Page 2 of Of Blood and Banes
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Is there a reason why you conveniently forgot to mention that guy Darian is the prince of Arterias?”
“...no?”
“...I’m not sure I believe you. Maybe I’ll ask you again at the end.”
CHAPTER 1
A LOSS OF BLOOD AND TITLES
Little did I know living was scarier than dying. After my first brush with death in Arterias, I realized living was hard—full of pain, heartache, and uncertainty. But death? Death is final. Quiet. Dark.
And in an odd way…peaceful.
“You were out for several days after the battle in Arterias. You lost so much blood, I’m surprised you’ve managed to survive,” Marge chides and smacks the top of my hand with the head of her staff. Though it’s gentle enough to bar a warning, the top of my hand still stings from the contact.
She hisses, “Woman, are you not listening? You need to take it easy. Give your body the rest it needs to recover.”
Glaring at her, I hesitantly retract my hand from the door handle. The memory of the sword hidden within the wooden staff is a ringing reminder of all the things I don’t know about Marge. While some innate part of me trusts her, I’m hesitant to listen. I need to see Daeja. I need answers as to how long we’ll be held as so-called prisoners. Or…hostages? Are they one and the same?
I grumble, “And smacking me with your staff is supposed to help my body recover?”
“If you weren’t such a stubborn thing, I wouldn’t have to resort to such violence.” She presses the length of her staff against my chest and forces me away from the door.
I laugh. “Are you really herding me right now?”
“If that’s what it’ll take for you to listen to me.”
She sweeps me back away from the door and to one of the beds lining the room in neat rows. The same bed I’d woken up in, with several blood-flecked rags layering the mattress. I’d angered the wound in my ribs yesterday when I found out Darian’s true heritage and passed out shortly after. Even now, my side aches with every move and breath. As if a shard of glass is wedged between my ribs, and with every unmeasured breath, it burrows deeper.
“Now sit down,” Marge commands.
When I finally sit on the bed, she removes her staff from my chest. Her nimble hands pull the loose, cream-colored shirt tucked into my pants free, and her fingertips graze the thick bandages wound around my torso. Probably wasn’t the best idea, putting me in a light-colored shirt. Small flecks of blood bloom like roses on the material.
She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “See? You’ve ruptured it. It’s bleeding again.”
She turns away from me and hobbles over to a wooden set of cabinets tucked up against a stone wall. Her staff clicks on the wide stone tiles as she returns with a handful of materials.
She slowly peels off the bandages, sticky with my blood, then presses a fresh cloth to my wound. Crimson immediately bleeds onto the material. I level my breathing, straining to focus on anything but the pain throbbing in my ribs.
Five things I see: sunlight leaks through several sets of windows barred in iron grates, washing the stone walls around us in warmth. Almost twenty beds fill the room from wall to wall, with the wooden cabinets Marge retrieved materials from earlierspanning one side of the room. Wooden beams arch overhead, accentuating the soft curve of the ceiling.
Four things I feel: I grip the bed sheets in my fist and bite down into my cheek. A throbbing pain pulses harder in between my ribs?—
“This is going to hurt,” Marge murmurs with a twinge of sympathy.
A sharp object tugs at my skin, the sensation mixing with my pain. I avert my gaze, looking everywhere but where she stitches my wound closed. But I can’t ignore the pain. Nor the sensation of her needle piercing me, then threading the stitch through my skin as if I’m nothing more than a torn blanket.
Near desperate for a distraction and through gritted teeth, I ask, “Marge, what happened that night back in Arterias? After I passed out?”
“Well, after you fainted word got out the rebels captured Darian. They started to close in on us, but your dragon kept them back. That rebel woman you set free is apparently the lead of this southern town, and she called a halt on their advances. They took whoever was still alive after the battle as prisoners.”
“You said I was out for…several days?”
“Yes. Many of us thought you were dead. Or were going to be. But the Gods have greater plans for you. The rebels let Cole carry you the whole way here, and your dragon followed like his shadow.”
My heart flutters at Cole’s name. Gods, the fear he must have felt while holding me in his arms, bleeding and unconscious. I look down at my hands, and his mother’s ring still wraps around my finger. Like a distant promise.
