Page 15 of Tethered In Blood

Breathe.

Work.

Save him.

His face drew my attention again as I tied off the last stitch. He was lethal—sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline. His skin, tanned from time spent beneath the sun, contrasted with the stark pallor of the poison. His lips, set in a firm, grim line, twitched as if he battled between pain and defiance.

His thick, wild black hair spiraled at the tips, tousled as if he had spent days in battle without rest. A single cut trailed along his temple, dark against his skin. His features were not only handsome but also dangerous and untamed. However, the faint point of his ears startled me.

Who was he?

Warm, thick blood smeared my hands while I worked and stained my fingers with the burden of how close he was to death. I maintained pressure on the wound, feeling the sluggish pulse of his life beneath my palms. His body’s labored movements struggled against the poison that was tearing through him.

My eyes returned to his attire. The cut of his tunic and the reinforced bracers were not standard knight’s armor, unlike the men who passed through the infirmary in their polished, ceremonial breastplates and plumed helms. His gear facilitated movement and blended into the shadows rather than catching the light. It was purposeful and covert.

Calder’s hurried steps caught my attention. She returned with a rinsing pot and a small bowl of antidote. The acrid smell of herbs and crushed roots filled the room. She knelt beside him, working quickly as she rinsed the wound with steady hands. The bitter concoction darkened the torn flesh as she pressed the antidote onto it, and its thick paste absorbed into his skin.

She raised his head to pour the remaining liquid between his lips. “Drink,” she commanded.

His throat strained as he swallowed the liquid. His body jerked, and a loud, shuddering cough wracked through him, a strangled sound caught between a groan and a gasp. His fingers twitched, and his muscles tensed as his body resisted. He stilled again. The only sound left was his breathing. Though ragged and uneven, his breaths grew steadier with each passing moment. The antidote was working.

I settled back, willing my thoughts to settle. But my gaze betrayed me, drawn back to the movement of his chest. Beneath the streaks of blood and grime, the defined lines of muscle became undeniable. His body was built for combat and endurance. My fingers had felt his strength and the burning of his fevered skin beneath my touch, but the curve of his abdomen, with taut skin stretched over powerful muscle, had become visible.

Gods.

My cheeks flushed with heat.

“Damn,” Calder muttered.

I flinched and glanced up at her; my pulse spiked as if she had caught me, but Calder didn’t look my way. She wiped her hands on her apron. Her frown deepened as she studied him. “Sinclaire is always getting hurt, but this isn’t like him.”

Sinclaire.

I savored the name’s unfamiliarity before finding my voice. “Sinclaire?”

Calder stiffened. Her frown smoothed, and her tone shifted into something too even.

“Sir Oberon Sinclaire,” she clarified briskly. “A knight of the castle. The one who brought you here upon your arrival.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Reckless, that one. He constantly puts himself in danger. It must have been another skirmish near the border.”

The words sounded overly polished and rehearsed. My gaze returned to him as the name clung to the man before me: Oberon Sinclaire. A knight. Yet, he was different not only because of the armor that didn’t conform to the standard, but also because of how Calder spoke about him.

Mystery lingered below his surface, concealed beneath scars and silence.

7

Oberon

MYEYESCRACKEDopenwith a groan. The infirmary was dark and quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves outside the arched windows and the distant echo of footsteps in the castle halls. The silence settled deep into the bones of a place untouched by the chaos of the waking world. The air was fragrant with dried herbs and a subtle medicinal tang.

I tilted my head back to glance out the window above me, where the stars blazed in the sky. I still had time to report to the prince before the sun rose over the horizon.

Grimacing, I sat up, flexed my hands, and rolled my shoulders to test the tension in the muscles beneath the bandages. It wasn’t terrible. I had survived worse. However, the tight wrappings were a damn nuisance. I tugged at them, unwinding the linen and tossing it aside.

The wound was healing, though more slowly than I would have preferred. I didn’t need to be coddled like a novice recruit. The office door creaked open when I was halfway through pulling my shirt over my head.

Calder paused in the doorway with her arms crossed. Her eyes scanned me with the exasperation I had grown accustomed to from her. “I knew you would do that,” she sighed, shaking her head.

Ignoring the sting of movement, I finished fastening the ties at my wrists. “Then you should have saved yourself the effort of wasting bandages.”

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