Page 78 of The Last Hunt

Chapter 20

After

Aethon

“We need to get him to a doctor!”

The voice sounds thick and wavery, like Aethon is hearing it underwater.

“He needs a surgeon! Do you have anyone here? We’re members of the Guild of Two Roses - they’ll pay well for the medical attention you give him, I promise.”

The words don’t quite make sense. He can hear them, but pain is making him unable to comprehend anything. Aethon has never experienced pain like this. Even when he was burning up in the corona of that star - it wasn’t like this. That was building heat, all consuming, cooking him, making his skin tender and raw. This is deep, radiating pain. Aethon feels like he’s being fractured from the inside out. His back is pure misery. He opens his mouth to try to release some of the pain through something - a yell, a scream - anything, but no sound comes out. There’s brightness behind his eyes, and he opens his eyelids a millimeter. It's the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“Stop trying to die!”

The voice breaks through his pain. He’d know it anywhere. Sharp and so, so angry. That voice haunts his dreams in the best way. Maeve. He can barely see her face, but he can tell it’s flushed with exertion, and she has blood along her jaw and cheek. Is she hurt? Aethon hopes she’s not hurt.

“You asshole,” she snarls at him. “You will not die on this fucking starbase, Aethon Trell!”

If he could speak, he’d reassure her. He doesn’t want to die. What had he done? That’s right. He had shoved Daik into that escape pod. Tried to contain the blast of his bomb. And if Maeve is still breathing, he succeeded. Fiery pain lances through him as someone else kneels beside him, jostling his body. Well, he had mostly succeeded.

“A surgeon is coming,” someone says.

“Tell them to hurry!” Maeve snaps.

“They’re -” The words trail off and Aethon’s eyes close. He can’t keep track of the rest of the conversation. The pain is too much. Everything fades away to smothering blackness.

The next time Aethon wakes, he’s on a ship. He blinks a few times, trying to focus on the dark metal ceiling above him. He’s sore, but not unbearably so. He tries to shift, but a sudden pain in his mid-back makes him pause. He carefully pushes himself up and back against soft pillows.

“Captain Trell!” CAL’s voice is a welcome sound. “You’re awake!”

Aethon nods, but the movement hurts, and he raises a blessedly uninjured arm to rub at the back of his neck.

“I’m awake,” he says, his voice hoarse.

He runs a hand lightly along the skin at the back of his neck and it feels odd. There’s a bump close to his shoulders and his fingers trace along it, feeling the raised tenderness of it. Is it a scar?

“Aethon!”

He looks up to see Maeve standing in the doorway. Aethon realizes he’s on the Archer. And in Maeve’s bed. The engines hum comfortingly, and the lights are low. She strides up to him and picks up a glass of water from the bedside table and hands it to him. He suddenly realizes how thirsty he is and tips the glass to his lips, gulping down the cool water.

“They said you might not wake up for a day,” Maeve mutters. “I swear, those doctors know nothing.” She carefully sits down on the bed next to his hip, facing him.

She’s wearing dark pants and a thin, gray t-shirt. Her hair is gathered into a loose bun behind her head, and a few wine red strands frame her face. Aethon reaches up and catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She pauses, mid-reach for the empty glass. Her face is pale, making her freckles stand out, and there are dark circles under her eyes.

“Daik is dead,” Maeve says bluntly.

Everything comes rushing back to Aethon. The crowds of people on Scimitar Starbase, the bomb strapped to Daik’s chest, the Lightway, the guards. Aethon remembers shoving Maeve as far from Daik as he could before he lunged for the smuggler. He knew he had to contain the bomb, and the escape pod was the only thing he could think of. The only thing that might work.

“Did anyone -” he starts.

“No one else died,” Maeve says. She pulls his hand down from her chin and threads their fingers together. “You saved everyone in the food court. Everyone on those three floors. Including me.”

Relief is sharp within him. “Good.”

“If either of us had hunted him alone, we’d be dead,” Maeve says, her tone dark. “And a lot of other people would be dead too. I never could have done it alone.” She murmurs the last sentence, almost as if she’s just talking to herself.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” Aethon says, brushing his thumb over her hand. His emotions are raw and tangled, but the fact that Maeve is sitting here next to him is a miracle.

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