Damn.“I’m certain that are no deep cuts that could be life-threatening,” I say, reflecting on the fact that there were no visible pools of blood on her clothing or on mine where I held her close.
Father pauses but then nods. “Okay, then. I’ll clean the head wound now. Keep her close to your body for warmth.”
My father leans back on his heels and reaches for the bucket and the basket of cloths. He dips the tip of a cloth into the water before he lightly wipes her forehead, studying the wound as he works.
“Her skin is split, but the cut is shallow,” he finally announces, dropping the bloodied cloth into a second, empty bucket. “As for other wounds, you need to check to be sure, and then you need to get her completely warm.”
He’s matter-of-fact as he continues. “Thoren will stay up in the turret. I’ll go outside and keep watch. If she has any other injuries that need cleaning, call me. If there are no other wounds, then your body heat is most important to her survival.Undress her, get your shirt and heavy pants off, and wrap yourself up in furs with her.”
Undress her?My forehead creases. “I don’t have her permission. What if she wakes up? She’ll be frightened.”
I don’t want her to regain consciousness, only to find herself bound in furs with me and to think I might have hurt her.
Thoren’s voice suddenly calls down from the turret at the near end of the loft, proving that he could hear our conversation. “To seeyourugly face up close?”
He pops his head through the opening at the top of the ladder, grinning at me from within the shadows. “If I were a woman who woke up next to you, I’d stab first and ask questions later. Just make sure there are no blades handy and you’ll be fine.”
I grimace. “Yes, thank you, little brother.”
“Happy to help,” Thoren calls before his head disappears again.
Father speaks quietly. “If she wakes up, give her space. Tell her what happened and how she got here.”
He rises to his feet. “She won’t live to see the end of the day unless she’s warm. Your body is a heat source that will keep her alive. She doesn’t have time for you to wrestle with your honor, Son.”
The cold grips her. The deathly sleep will kill her. She can’t fight it on her own.
I have to fight it for her.
Chapter 8
Igive my father a nod.
He heads to the door as he speaks. “At all times, control your thoughts. The decisions you make will determine whether or not she lives.”
Reaching for his sword and its scabbard, he pulls both onto his back. “Call me when you’re ready. I’ll come back and boil cloths for her feet and hands for extra warmth.”
As soon as the door closes behind him, I extricate the woman from my coat and lay her carefully down on the large fur.
Even though I wrap part of it around her, I’m aware of the way her body cools now that she’s apart from me. It’s like she can’t retain any heat at all—like she’s frozen all the way to her heart and mind.
I only know what my father told me about Blacksmith magic. They don’t have the deep light that our people have learned to harness. Their magic is the oldest of the old—creation magic that they access through their hammers and bands of metal they wear on their bodies. When they have contact with their power, it makes them far stronger and faster than humans.
But there isn’t any visible metal on her.
No hammer and no bands around her arms. No jewelry of any kind.
Quickly, I remove my bow and quiver from my back and set my hunting knives safely down at the end of the hearth.
Then I start checking her over, examining her head and neck first, relieved that I didn’t miss any injuries there.
Keeping the fur partway over her, I roll her onto her side and reach for the clasps at the back of her dress, acting fast to peel it off her back and arms, touching her only when and where I need to.
I freeze as her back becomes fully visible.
Her skin is as pale as snow and as smooth as the sharpest blade, but it’s covered in welts.
Ten brutal cuts crisscross her skin, stretching from her shoulders to her hips. As I slide the material down, I discover more welts across the backs of her legs.
