Amaris drew a candle closer, examining the skin of his back. Red welts covered his back, but even more were bloody gashes. She reached to touch one, to see how deep it was. Theodoric jerked and yelped.
“He needs a sedative!” Esaias shouted, gritting his teeth as he fought to hold Theodoric down.
Amaris dropped the candle, extinguishing it. Theodoric latched onto her wrist, his skin cold and clammy. His eyes met hers, again filled with swirling darkness.
She leaned closer without thinking. “Theodoric,” she whispered.
His erratic breathing began to slow, but his knuckles didn’t let up from their grip around her arm.
Her fingers twitched at her side, but she held her other hand back from reaching for him. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a breath before saying, “You’re safe.”
His fingers loosened their hold, and she opened her eyes. The storms settled, and bits of golden specks filled his irises. “Amaris,” he breathed. He winced and clenched down instinctively as his back muscles spasmed. He let go of her and dropped his hand to the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Amaris said.
“That was the worst lashing I’ve ever seen my father give,” Alan whispered, his face blank.
Gerard was Alan’s dad.That explains so much.
“What in the realm did you do?” Alan asked.
“He tried to stop Bennet,” Amaris uttered.
She hustled toward her worktable. She’d never seen a flogging injury before, but she knew his wounds needed cleaning, probably stitching, but that was off the table. She threw open the mystique journal but gripped the edge of the worktable. She paused. Her heart shouldn’t race like this.
Inhale. Exhale.
She hated the feeling settling over her. The panic. Theodoric was just another patient. She couldn’t allow herself to get worked up, but for fuck’s sake, it was all because of her. He was lying there with some of the worst trauma she’d ever seen, and it was all her fault.
Her hands shook as she read through the pages and foundfloggingscribbled at the top. A groan from Theodoric had her skimming faster, settling on pain management on the next page. It said to take dried leaves of cudweed and brew them into a tea and steep for desired effect.
“Alan, make yourself useful and boil some water.” He didn’t protest.
Amaris went to her shelves, reading each label.Fade chicory, uppaway, izaseed…cudweed!She thought she’d arranged them alphabetically. It appeared someone had been messing with her herbs. The jar of cudweed held small basil-like leaves. She set them in a cup, ladling the now boiled water to allow the tea to steep.
The old mystique often strayed from page to page with his thoughts. Amaris thumbed through the next few pages to find something she could use to treat the wounds. Theodoric let out another moan, sending Amaris pinching the corner of the page and sucking in a breath. She closed her eyes, holding the air in her lungs.He’s just another patient.
Dragging her finger down the page. She found what she needed. She searched the shelves and found a large begregane leaf wrapped in a cloth.Produces cooling, numbing, and inflammation fighting effect for wounds, burns, and sores.
Amaris pulled the knife from her boot, thankful she hadn’t tossed it across the cell. She cut away the edges to reveal a light pink paste.Theodoric hurled into the bucket. Her hands trembled against the hilt, but she squeezed it tighter and plowed through.
“Where did you get a knife?” Alan asked, his eyes flashing to the dark blade in her hand.
“It was my parents’.” Her response was short, and she didn’t bother sparing him a glance or elaborating further. She strained the leaves and sat on the floor beside Theodoric. Her fingers gripped his chin, raising his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and snot dripped from his nose. He tried to pull away, but her grip tightened. “Drink this.” She pressed the cup to his lips.
He smelled the wafting odor, his nose cringing as he raised a brow. “Cudweed?” he gasped.
“It’ll help with the pain.” Amaris tilted the cup to his parted lips. “Small sips to avoid further upsetting your stomach.”
“You won’t have to worry about him throwing it up. The brew you made is strong. He won’t have time,” Esaias chimed in.
Theodoric’s shaky hands held hers as they grasped the cup. A muscle contracted in his back, and he winced. His cry made Amaris’s attempts at steady breaths falter. He grasped the edge of the cot, his knuckles leaching of color. Instantly, Amaris reached for his shoulder. A wrinkly burn scar slithered from his shoulder down to his heart. She pulled back as his eyes tracked her movement.
She cleared her throat and lifted the cup once more to his lips. He took a sip, and with each swallow he grimaced in pain. It tore at Amaris, each audible gasp. When he’d finished the tea, his head slumped back to the cot.
“Thank you.” The next thing she knew, his body went limp.
Amaris stared in awe at the empty cup and Theodoric. She couldn’t allow herself to stop and think about him or the effects of the cudweed. All she needed to do was bandage his back.
