Amund gets a fresh cloth and dips it in the water.
“Okay, I’m going to irrigate the wound,” Amund says, still calm and collected. I try to take the cloth from him, but he pulls back. “Let me help you, Edith.”
The tender way he says my name sends my stomach somersaulting. I study his face, savoring every detail. He looks sincere, but his jaw is tight with tension, and his brow is creased like he’s beating himself up for the attack, even though he’s the one who saved me.
I nod. “Okay.”
Amund leans closer, wiping the cloth over my face and wringing it into the basin on the nightstand until the water turns pink, then red. Amund works meticulously, his concentration and determination unwavering as he cleans my skin. His every touch seems more delicate than the last, and I can’t explain his tenderness.
“Are you also a healer?” I ask, but my voice comes out strained.
Amund’s attention lifts to meet my eyes, and he offers a sliver of a smile. “Far from it. I’m not as skilled as my mother, but she tended to my wounds plenty of times in the past. As a hunter, I’m no stranger to injury. We need to know the basics of first aid.”
I can’t help but notice how sad Amund sounds when he mentions his mom. His eyes swim with sorrow, but he quickly turns his attentionback to the task at hand as he wrings the cloth out over the washbasin.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
The words are nowhere near enough.
“Don’t,” Amund says, his voice trembling as he resumes wiping my skin. Despite his size and strength, he’s surprisingly kindhearted. “It’s because of me you were attacked. I never should have left you alone. I thoughtyouwere the danger, so it never occurred to me you could beindanger. And now…”
His voice trails off, and he lowers his gaze, shame spreading across his features.
“If you hadn’t returned when you did, I would be dead.”
His entire body is still tight with tension. “I should have been there to protect you.”
The irony of his statement isn’t lost on me. He’s been busy hunting me this whole time, convinced I was the killer. At first, I was afraid he might be right—that I was more like my dad than I wanted to admit.
Now we both know I’m not.
“I don’t need anyone to protect me,” I tell myself, but the words sound hollow, even to me. That’s the whole reason I came here. I wanted to learn how to protectmyselfand those I care about. Even if I’m the one they need protection from.
“Everyone does, sometimes.” Amund wipes my tears. “There’s no shame in that.”
As I look at him, I can’t help but think,Who protects you?Somehow, judging by his hardness and the way he normally carries himself, it seems like no one ever has.
“There,” Amund says, tossing the cloth into the washbasin. The entire bucket has turned red. He finds a small tin of ointment and dips his finger in. “This might hurt, but it will help you heal.”
He dabs the thick paste onto my wound, and I’m grateful for it. I’m afraid to see how bad it is. Amund tends to me carefully, taking histime applying the ointment. As he works, I can’t help but become aware of his fingers brushing my tender lips.
My cheeks suddenly feel very, very warm.
His face is close to mine, but he seems entirely focused on his task.
I study his eyes while he works. His irises always looked brown, but this close, I can see they’re actually more of a hazel. They’re multifaceted, with flecks of green that remind me of sea glass with all its sharp edges worn soft by sand.
“Edith?” A familiar voice snaps me back to reality.
Both Amund and I turn to see Nils standing in the infirmary entrance, his curly hair disheveled, wearing a wide-eyed expression of shock. He rushes over to us.
“Nils?” I exhale.
Amund tenses, but Nils is focused on me. “Are you okay?”
“Isaac attacked me.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Nils says, a note of panic in his voice. “After dinner, I was heading to the dining hall to see if I could catch you, but then I overheard students saying someone got hurt. I rushed right over here, fearing the worst…”
