Page 29 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
Sterling shifted her gaze to where he was looking, finding a few drops of crimson lingering on the wooden surface. She lifted her tunic to find her flesh was split open, the wound deeper than she’d thought.
“Get up,” he commanded, his eyes hardening.
Sterling wouldn’t beg for help—not from him. With what remaining strength she had, she shoved herself upward. Her knees buckled and she collapsed back on the floor. Before she could attempt it again, Winter’s strong arms lifted her, pressing her against his firm chest.
“Put me down,wolf,” Sterling growled pitifully.
Winter arched a brow at her. “Would you rather crawl up the stairs?”
Sterling remained silent, believing she would be dead before she made it to the top.
He ascended the steps, her head falling against his chest, her breaths growing more ragged. Winter’s engaging scent of clovers and embers caressed her senses, pushing away her nausea.
A young female guard stationed outside Winter’s room opened the door for them.
“Have a servant draw her a bath and fetch a cup of green tea, fruit, and jerky,” the prince said.
The female nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Winter dragged out the desk chair with his boot and set Sterling on the soft cushion. Her dizziness subsided now that she was seated, but the pain continued to throb.
The prince went into the bathing chamber and came out with antiseptic, cloth, and thread. He knelt in front of her while opening the antiseptic. “Lift your tunic.”
Sterling blinked as he unwound the thread and tore a piece off with his teeth. “You’re not getting a healer?” she asked, peering down at his long fingers.
“Does it look like I am? Now lift your tunic unless you prefer to bleed to death.”
“Bastard,” she grunted, but drew up the fabric, her skin the shade of bone.
“Ah, finally, you speak your mind.” Winter smirked as he dabbed her wound with antiseptic, pulling a hiss from her lips. He ran the thread through the needle and pinched her skin. Perhaps it was because she was on the brink of dying, but she didn’t mind his touch. Yetonlyfor the time being.
As the needle went in and out of her flesh, she bit into her lower lip and dug her fingers into the arms of the chair to distract herself from the sharp aches.
A gray-haired servant placed a steaming teacup and a plate of jerky and raspberries on the desk beside her before filling the bath in the other room. Sterling drank the green tea down, the earthy flavor feeding a small amount of energy back into her.
“I’m surprised you know how to do this. Being a royal and all,” she said, setting the empty cup back on the desk and reaching for a raspberry.
Winter’s lazy gaze slid up to hers, continuing his meticulous motions. “My mother wasn’t born royalty. She taught me how to take care of my own wounds.”
“Not a high lady either?”
“No.”
Perhaps that was one of the reasons the queen had always been kind to the human villages, recalling what it was like to be without wealth. If her grandmother hadn’t murdered her, she wondered whether the villages would’ve flourished more now with the queen’s aid.
If Winter took after his mother even a little, then maybe down,deepdown, there was a small piece of him that could care. “Since you aren’t going to free my brother yet, can I at least see him? Please.” With a second game approaching, she might not survive much longer, and she at least wanted to give Cyan a goodbye.
The prince tied off the thread and studied Sterling for a long moment. “Your brother isn’t like you, is he?”
“You mean he isn’t a murderer like me?” Sterling shook her head. “No, not at all. He wouldn’t even harm an ant if you asked him to crush it.” She cursed herself for giving that last tidbit to her enemy, for knowing that it was a slice of information that he could use against Cyan if he wished.
“So he never killed any of the animals you sold at your meat shop?”
“No. All me.” She thought about the days she’d attempted to teach Cyan, how they would argue until she gave in and told him he could focus on growing plants in their garden.
Winter placed a bandage over her stomach wound, then inspected her arm. “The fabric caught most of the blade here.” He dabbed the area with the antiseptic, the small cut barely stinging. “Win the next game and I’ll allow you a moment with your brother before freeing him. Perhaps, if you behave, I’ll even give him the paper he asked for.”
The prince would give her brother paper? Sterling furrowed her brow, wondering why the prince would offer her this… But she would behave for her brother, for him to have the comfort of his paper.
