Page 111 of His Noble Ruin

My stomach sickened at the mention of food, but I needed the strength. “Thank you.”

I stared at the low wooden ceiling. My heart pounded, every beat counting down to the biggest mistake of my life. The inevitable would come soon enough.

I was powerless to stop it.

ChapterThirty-Eight

After a long,feverish sleep, I climbed to my feet and went up on deck.

An orange glow lingered in the sky, but the sun was gone. It was evening again but a whole day later than the last time I’d seen the sky. The familiar outline of a lush forested island was silhouetted in the fading light.

Tramore. Right now it seemed darker than Ash Island.

Keane patted me on the shoulder. “You get back to your family.”

“She will.” Graham walked up behind him in his Enforcer clothes, carrying a large fabric bag and a water barrel. “I’ll make sure of it.” He sounded upbeat, but he didn’t look at me.

We said goodbye to the men and tossed the rope ladder down. Graham was still talking to Keane when I began climbing.

“Wait!” said Graham. “You shouldn’t be—”

I kept climbing, then let go of the rope and splashed into the water on my own. I swam for the shore, but every stroke of my left arm stretched the wound in my side and slowed me down.

Graham landed in the water behind me, his barrel splashing down beside him. Keane tossed down his bag and Graham caught it, placing it on top of the floating barrel to keep it dry. It didn’t take long for him to catch up to me.

“What are youdoing?” he asked.

I didn’t have the breath to answer. Just swimming took all my strength.

His voice was heavy with frustration. “You’re not even trying to be careful!”

My feet hit the soft sand and I stood up, wading to shore. Fresh blood soaked through my shirt.

“I’ll be fine.” My attempt to sound convincing was lost to the whimper in my voice. I took a step on the smooth sand, heading toward the trees.

Graham reached for my shoulder, stopping me. “You need a new bandage.”

“I didn’t bring one.”

“I know,” he said, “but I did.”

I covered my face and avoided his glare. “Thank you.”

I half-sat, half-collapsed on the ground. He knelt and opened the bag he brought.

I reached out a hand. “I can do it.”

“No, sorry. I don’t trust you.”

I glanced at his face, looking for the smile I expected to accompany his words, but his eyes were solemn in the dim light.

Graham gathered fallen sticks and started a fire using supplies he’d brought from the boat. I came as close as I could to the fire’s heat, wringing out my wet hair as I shivered.

He sat on the sand beside me, preparing the bandage. My heartbeat was quickening by the moment. I hadn’t yet looked at my wound. I gripped the hem of my shirt, afraid of what I’d see.

“It’s okay,” he said. “There’s nothing improper about showing skin when there’s a gaping wound involved.”

I forced my hands to relax, then lifted my shirt enough to reveal the bloody bandage.

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