Amaris scrambled toward him and gripped his shoulder to keep him steady. “She’s alive!” Her hair was soaked, her makeup long gone, but she didn’t need it. Her eyes were bright against the lightning. Her lips plump and a vibrant shade of pink.
Theo’s heart hammered, but he allowed her words to wash over him.
“Sephardi’s alive,” she repeated. “It’s over.”
Chapter 45
Amaris
Theodoric closed thekitchen doors behind them, and Amaris tossed Gris’s bow into the corner. After they’d struggled to get off the boat, they’d been forced to swim to shore. Amaris had sunk into the sand, her arms tired and her legs exhausted, but Theo had been weary. His skin was pale, and blood poured from his shoulder. Her own wound had slowed to a trickle. She’d managed a tourniquet around her thigh. The water had been a dreaded sting as the salt seeped into her cuts, but the sand had been no better when they’d made land.
With the dagger still embedded in the back of her thigh, she forced back the pain and limped through the kitchen. The room was in complete disarray, with people scattered on tables and lying on the floor covered in blood. Even more people ran around, while Ms. Borstad attempted to direct them in any way she could. Theodoric leaned into Amaris, exhaustion finding him.
“Hold on a little longer,” she whispered, bracing a shoulder under him.
He didn’t reply, but judging by his panting breaths, she knew he couldn’t make it further. They staggered through the swarm of people.The ones they’d passed quieted and stilled as they moved through the kitchen. Ms. Borstad directed Amaris through the servants’ door into the main hall. What she saw was far worse than in the kitchen. Many more were on makeshift cots or even the bare floor. A few soldiers saw her struggling to bear Theodoric’s weight and assisted in carrying him to an open cot.
“Go help the others,” he said. “I just need to rest.”
“You can be so stubborn,” Amaris said, pressing against his chest as he tried to sit up. “Sit your ass down.”
They were their first words uttered since they’d stepped off the ship. Their trek up the beach had been brutal and neither of them had words for what hell they’d just gone through.
A servant came over with one of the baskets and set it at her feet. She shifted her gaze and spotted Pricilla working without tiring. She searched the hall for Onika but didn’t see her dark curls among the throng.
She scavenged the basket for ude stalk to mix with the yuxiway leaves as Pricilla instructed what seemed so long ago, but there was only the small jar of crushed-up leaves. The servant came back and placed a fresh basin of water and a cloth beside Theodoric. Amaris wrung it out and pressed gently against the first wound. He groaned.
“This is going to be really uncomfortable,” she warned him.
“I think it’ll be worse than uncomfortable,” he added, huffing through pursed lips.
“Alright, it’s going to hurt a lot,” she admitted, slightly laughing. Her shoulders began to relax. Her nerves were shot. No number of deep breaths could fully ease her jitters.
“Do you enjoy torturing me?” He tried to laugh with her, but he winced and grabbed at the wound in his shoulder.
“No, I just don’t ever tell my patients it’s going to hurt a lot. It doesn’t usually elicit a calming effect.”
“I would presume not,” he said, “but I can take whatever you throw at me.”
“You might want to reconsider that.” She grinned, biting the edge of her lip.
She moved through each of his wounds, cleaning as best she could. She started with his shoulder, wiping along the edges and cleaning out dirt and sand. He breathed through each stroke, watching as her hands moved along his skin. She assessed the severity of his severed flesh. It didn’t appear deep enough to have penetrated the muscle, but it still bled like a bitch. She pressed her fingers against the cut, reaching for a roll of linen to wrap a pressure bandage over it.
The rest of his wounds were easier. She helped him roll to his side so she could clean the opened cuts on his back. Thankfully, there were only a few. The rain had washed away most of the blood, and a few had already begun to dry and clot.
She ripped a bigger hole in his pants to clean a cut to his thigh and get access to his knee to properly bandage it. She didn’t know how he’d been able to even stand on that ship, let alone walk back with her. She ripped off his makeshift wrap. His knee had swollen to almost twice its size. She bound it in a new bandage, hoping it’d help to control some of the swelling while she propped his leg up.
She spat into the yuxiway leaves and began rubbing the paste into his wounds. He winced as her fingers pressed to the cut in his thigh. She gave him a look. His eyelids fluttered, and he nodded for her to continue. A warmth spread through her. She coughed, attempting to rid her body of the flush creeping up her neck before it could show on her cheeks.
She finished binding each cut, and he watched her through it all. His eyes never once strayed from her fingers. She finally stood, but he seized her hand. She swallowed her gasp before it had a chance to penetrate her lips.
“Amaris,” he whispered, eyeing her leg.
Her eyes followed his and spotted the belt pulled taut around her thigh. “It’s hardly a scratch,” she said, trying to pull her leg from where his hands grasped around the knife. For how clammy his skin was, his handswere incredibly warm against the outside of her pants.
She’d apparently shoved the pain so far down she’d forgotten all about it. She let out a small laugh.How could I forget there’s a knife in my leg?
“You callmestubborn,” he said, his brows furrowing. “You have a dagger in your thigh.”
