My chest still aches where his blade found home. But all I want right now is to see her. "Maybe later."
"If he won't take it, I will," Hrolf mutters from his cell. "I can't get any sleep with all of you around."
Eyepatch's mouth twitches.
I look at Hrolf. Words fail me. How do I express gratitude for something like this? He saved her life. Bled for someone he should hate. Gave her a chance she wouldn't have otherwise.
"Anything," I murmur, the promise settling into my bones as it leaves my mouth. "Whatever you want, whenever you want it. Just ask and it's yours."
"Get out of here, vampire," Hrolf mutters, not lifting his gaze from the floor. "Let an old man sleep."
But I see the way his hand trembles slightly where it rests on his knee. He's conserving strength after giving so much blood.
"I'll take care of him," Eyepatch says quietly. "Go. She's waiting."
He unlocks my cell fully and steps aside. As I pass, he catches my arm briefly.
"I misjudged you," he says so quietly only I can hear. "I'm sorry."
Eyepatch releases my arm. "There's a room prepared in the healing house. Second floor, third door on the left. Clean clothes, hot water. She doesn't need to see you like this."
He's right. I look like I've crawled out of a grave.
"We're even, elf."
The walk to the room feels surreal. My legs are unsteady but they hold. People are moving about, trying to restore some normalcy after the battle and the wave. They give me a wide berth when they see me. Whispers follow in my wake.
Let them hate me and say whatever they want. As long as she's alive.
The room Eyepatch prepared is small but clean. A basin of hot water steams on a table. Clean clothes are laid out on the bed. Simple but well-made.
I strip off the ruined clothes and drop them in a heap. My fae beasts can easily remove the dirt but it feels good to wash it away physically. The water is almost too hot when I plunge my hands in but I welcome the burn. I scrub at my skin, working through the blood and grime until the water runs dark and the smell of Hel stops clinging to me.
I catch sight of myself in the small mirror above the basin.
I look like death.
I take extra care with my appearance despite the urgency pulling at me. The clean clothes fit well enough. I run wet handsthrough my hair, trying to tame it into something presentable. It's a losing battle but I try anyway.
I can't delay any longer.
Rhianelle is so close now.
The bitter scent of medicine hits me as I enter. Willow bark for pain and sweet honeyweed for infection. Wards shimmer faintly at the threshold. Inside, the suffering is organized into neat rows. Beds filled with wounded from the battle and from Tayum's Wrath. Healers move between them checking bandages, murmuring comfort. One of them glances up as I pass but says nothing.
Third door on the left.
I stop outside, hand raised to knock.
"Come in, Svenn." Her voice, thin and weak but unmistakably hers.
My hand trembles as I push the door open.
The room is small and bright. Morning sunlight streams through a window overlooking the gardens. The tools of healing are arranged neatly on a side table.
Rhianelle is in the bed against the far wall.
My heart breaks all over again.
