Rowan claps Ashford on the back. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try not to cry when she cleans that wound.”
Ashford huffs a soft laugh, but winces instantly from the motion.
When Rowan and the guard leave, silencesurrounds us once more.
“Can you try to lie down on the table?” I ask, moving closer.
“Yes, I think so,” Ashford says and gets up slowly. I hold his elbow while walking him over to the table. I have placed a stack of linens on one end for his head to rest on. It takes a moment, but once Ashford lies on the table, I begin placing candles near his head.
“The water is boiling. I am going to wait for it to cool down, and then I will clean your wound. I only have sewing needles and yarn, but I can assure you, I am good with the needle.”
He nods slightly. “Can you get me a drink?” he asks.
I get up and rummage through the pantry, returning with a bottle of what smells like cheap wine. I fill two cups and bring them over. He sits up slightly, propping up his weight on his elbow.
He clinks his glass against mine.
“A surgeon drinking before they sew their patient up is not a good sign,” he says and I can’t help but laugh.
“In this case, it is only beneficial to you; it’s going to calm my nerves.”
He drains his cup in one quick motion and sets it down.
I hold out my hand and watch his face as he realizes what else I got from the pantry.
“Gingerbread, hmm?” he almost purrs, the sound sending shivers down my spine.
“Someone told me it helps with the shock,” I say, smiling.
He takes the gingerbread, pops it in his mouth, and lies back down.
“I am ready to be sewn together like a masterful quilt,” he says and closes his eyes.
The bleeding hasstopped, but the wound is deep. I dab the still-warm towel against his temple and remove as much blood as possible.
My hands shake as I thread the yarn into the needle and pull my chair closer to the table.
“Where is your favorite place to go?” I ask as I begin to lead the needle through Ashford’s skin.
He seems surprised by my question, but responds nevertheless. “There is a cave not far from where I grew up, leading into the ocean. The water there glows at night in the summer, as if thousands of lightning bugs are living right underneath its surface. It’s where I return to in my mind when life gets…heavy,” he says, trying to keep his voice even, although I must be causing him a great deal of pain.
“Ah, you saw through my cheap trick of distraction,” I say as I place the last of the stitches.
“I did, but I appreciate it all the same. How do I look, Your Majesty, will there be a scar to scandalize the ladies?”
I huff. “I hardly think you need a scar to get their attention.”
It comes out before I can stop myself, and for a second, I hope he didn’t hear me, but as I turn around to look at him, he is already sitting up with a lop-sided grin on his face.
“And why is that?” he says teasingly.
“Rumor has it you always get what you want, you’re the Broker after all.” I try to sound casual.
He nods and leans back on his hands. “People say many things about me. Most of them contradictory. It saves me the trouble of maintaining a reputation.”
“You are avoiding the question.”
“I am deciding whether I trust the person asking it.”
