Page 24 of The Orc's Thief
“Oh!” I slap his chest, heat rising to my cheeks. “Don’t start, or I’ll knock you out again and leave you for the rats.”
He shudders dramatically. “Not the rats. Anything but that.”
I roll my eyes, then reach for the salve. “Quiet, now. Let’s see if this thing is as good as you claim.”
I scoop out a generous dollop and smear it over his wound. I’m gentle, not wanting to hurt him more. He winces but doesn’tcomplain. I try not to think about the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers or how good he smells.
Feeling uncomfortably hot, I move on to his stab wound. The gash isn’t deep, but I can barely see it through the tear in his leather pants. His thigh is thick and muscled, just as powerful as the rest of him.
“You might need stitches.” I pry open the leather and dab the blood away with the handkerchief, then spread on the ointment. “Did they nick anything important? I can’t tell.”
“No, it’s fine,” the warrior answers.
His voice is rougher than before, and I glance up to find him watching me intently. The close scrutiny is unnerving.
“All done,” I murmur and shift back. “How does that feel?”
His throat bobs. “Better. It’s working. Can you feel it on your fingers?”
I glance down at my right hand. He’s right, damn it. My skin no longer itches or stings, and a soothing numbness is spreading out like cooling water running through my veins.
“Oh, fine.”
I sit back across from him and scoop more salve from the pot, then spread a thin layer over my raw, reddened skin. The first touch stings, especially on my palm, where most of the blisters have popped from holding on to the rope. I’d been too focused on fleeing and subduing the stranger to feel the full force of the pain. But now, it rolls over me in waves, sharp jolts shooting up my arm.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound. Still, I keep going, working the ointment in with careful strokes, avoiding the tender flaps of skin curling at the edges of the blisters.
I’ll need to see a healer before I leave the city. I’d go tonight if I thought any of them would help without questions. But I’llwait. Just before the gates open, I’ll slip out and find someone to fix me up. I can’t risk an infection.
“I’m sorry you’re hurt,” the orc murmurs. “You shouldn’t be doing jobs like that alone.”
I jerk my head up, glaring. “And who do you suppose would help me?”
He shrugs, unbothered by the venom in my voice. “A partner. A friend. You don’t have a crew?” His gaze slides over me. “When you robbed me, I thought you might belong to the Ravens, but judging by your target tonight, I don’t think that’s the case.”
“I don’t belong to anyone.”
I spread the salve down to my wrist, stopping where my sleeve begins. The edge is frayed and blackened, the fabric dotted with tiny holes. My jacket is ruined. I hadn’t even noticed earlier, too busy running for my life. It’s another thing Damen’s taken from me, though he doesn’t even know it.
The thought of his heavy coin purse and the necklace soothes something inside me. But the anger still simmers. None of this—my ruined jacket, the wrecked property, the pain—would have happened if he’d simply told me the truth about Lindie. Instead, he buried it, and now we’re both suffering for it.
“I’ve been working with the city watch,” the stranger begins. “I’m not employed by the duke, but my king has allowed me to remain here in Ultrup.”
I tilt my head, trying to read between the lines. “And you have reason to believe the Ravens are involved in kidnapping?”
He grimaces. “Hard to tell. They’ve been sending trading caravans out of the city, that much we’ve established. But whether they’re doing so legitimately, we don’t know.”
My spine stiffens. “They’re trading outside the city? Where?”
“The caravans leave through the Eastern Gate. The rest is unclear.” He lifts a shoulder, frustration tightening his jaw. “They’re good at covering their tracks. And when my colleaguestried tracing the carriages and carts, they were set upon by mercenaries hired to protect the caravans.”
I let the words settle, the weight of them sinking deeper as my thoughts spiral. Then I glance up again. “Are the mercenaries guarding provisions—or prisoners?”
“That’s the question,” he agrees. “Now, I’ve told you my part. Want to tell me what you stole tonight?”
I chew the inside of my cheek, debating what to tell him. He’s given me a lot to think about, and more, he’s given me a lead. If Damen sent Lindie out of the city as part of a larger caravan, I might finally have a way to find her.
And this stranger could help me.
