My comment got a smile out of all three of them, which faded the second Kai held out the needle and thread.
Poised and ready to begin, I looked toward the door, wishing more than anything that Myron would walk through that door and save me from having to sew Tarrin’s flesh back together.
Knowing it was a pipe dream, I turned back and began.
It took the three of us a few tries to find our rhythm, but doing it this way took a fraction of the time it would have had I been doing it myself—or if we were all human. Even if we all knew how to stitch.
Cauterize. Thread. Pull. Tie. Cut. I kept repeating this mantra to myself every time I dug the thick needle into warm flesh, unable to let myself remember that it was Tarrin under my hands—no, all I could think was cauterize. Thread. Pull. Tie. Cut.
I’d been so focused that it took me a moment to realize there was not more flesh to mend.
Standing back, we examined our handiwork. Considering how large the wounds were, we’d done a decent job of it.
“Now what?” Artton asked.
The second I dropped the needle and thread, my body violently whipped to the side as I retched the remainder of my stomach’s contents into the basin.
Kai took it away immediately and handed it over to the guys.
Who grabbed it? I didn’t know.
“Take a seat, Nyleeria,” she soothed, rubbing a hand along my back in long, languid motions.
I wiped my mouth with the fabric at my elbow, avoiding the blood on my hands. “I’m okay,” I rasped.
“I’m sure you are. But have a seat anyway.”
Seated, she offered me a glass of water. As I went to take a sip, nausea roiled once more. I handed it back to her and swallowed.
I had to finish this. I couldn’t rest.
Pressing my palms against the wooden arms of the chair, I pushed myself up and grabbed the salve. Its putrid scent did little to calm my stomach. Holding my breath, I began applying it to Tarrin’s angry wounds. Artton reached over for some, and began mirroring me on the other side. Sidrick joined. Then Kai.
Once done, we placed clean bandages over the wounds until the only thing left was to wrap a final layer around his torso to keep everything in place while applying pressure.
Artton’s large hands hooked around Tarrin’s side before carefully rolling him to the side, exposing his back to me.
Fresh tears fell. “Oh Tarrin,” I breathed, placing a soft hand on his back I traced the midnight-black bruising across his entire back.
I felt Artton’s gaze.
Tears still falling, I worked with Sidrick to pull the bandages around my friend, the bruising disappearing under the fabric.
By the time we’d finished, Kai had cleaned the room around us, getting rid of any evidence of what we’d just done. Artton and Sidrick hovered at the door while I ran a clean cloth along Tarrin’s cracked lips, slowly dripping water into his mouth as I stroked his hair and prayed to anyone who would listen for him to live.
Chapter 23
Delicate Work
“Nyleeria,” an unfamiliar whisper reached into my sleep, softly pulling me back to reality.
I was drooped over the forearm that rested on Tarrin’s bed, my other hand clutching his. Groggy, I peeled myself up and blinked toward the voice, unable to believe my eyes.
“Nyleeria?” he asked.
Realization had me jumping out of my seat. He reacted in turn, but not before I reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“You came,” I rasped, eyes wide.
