Page 48 of Spindle of Sin

With a glance back at the town to ensure their safety, Rush launched himself into the sky once more. The town held enough forces to handle any stragglers he may have missed. He wasn’t going to wait around in this condition to see if he had—not when his body would force the shift back when the pain became too much to bear, effectively stranding him there until he healed enough for travel.

Each pump of his wings tugged at the arrowhead lodged in his shoulder, intensifying the torment. A pained screech tore from his throat as he disappeared into the clouds.

Rush stumbled into the palace kitchens through the back door. Clothing had been left for him in the garden clearing, but he’d only managed to pull on the trousers given the arrow still protruding from his shoulder. He’d waved off the night guards who had flocked to help him and ordered them to fetch a healer instead. That no one was allowed in the kitchens until he was stitched up. And not to create an uproar.

But while he waited, swaying, he needed a damn drink. A huge fucking slab of meat too. His body trembled with the pain radiating through him. It pulsed outward from where the arrowhead scraped against his shoulder blade. However, the axe wound was just as much a problem. If it weren’t for his dragon form, the blow would’ve been much worse, but his scales buffered the impact. Still, a gaping wound on his left forearm exposed muscle.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

Half collapsing onto the counter where Aura had been baking with Marion time to time, he inched toward the jug of water. The liquid sloshed everywhere as he attempted to pour it into one of the cups sitting beside it. He clenched his jaw and let the jug tumble from his hand. As he gulped down the water, a few trails of it slid down his chin.

“Rush?” Aura’s voice filled the darkened kitchen. “Is that you?”

His head whipped up to find her silhouetted in the doorway, a lantern glowing in her hand. The quick movement sent sharp sparks down his spine and he winced. “You’re awake.”

“It appears so.” She stepped into the room and used the lantern to light one of the torches on the wall.

“As you can see, I’m back,” he growled. Not wanting her to see him in need of a healer, he added, “Now leave.”

“And in a fine mood,” she mumbled. “But I believe I will stay.”

He gripped the countertop to steady himself. She couldn’t see him weak—he was the damn King of Sin. Ruthless. Fearsome. Though, for whatever reason, she didn’t seem to be afraid of him.

“What are you doing down here so late?” he snapped.

Instead of answering, she lit another torch on the wall, then set the lantern on the tabletop. Her gaze lifted to him and her eyes widened. “Stars above! Is that anarrow?”

“Is it that obvious?” Rush said sarcastically.

“What happened?” She darted around the counter, her hands lightly touching him.

“Out of the way,” a gravelly voice demanded. The old woman hurried into the kitchen and set a healer’s bag on the counter. Rush’s knees gave out at the sight of her, the blood loss finally hitting him, and he lowered himself to the floor. Her brown eyes scanned Rush’s body. “Let’s take care of the arm first.”

“What can I do to help?” Aura asked.

“Nothing.” The healer nudged her out of the way to kneel at the king’s side. He hissed as she prodded at the wound on his arm, then doused it with a liquid that fizzed on contact.

“I’ve pulled out thorns from my sisters’ bare feet,” Aura insisted. “I can help.”

Rush arched a brow. “Are you saying a thorn is the same as an arrow, kitten? Because, I must say, I disagree.”

“I want to help,” she insisted.

The healer set a needle to his skin and pressed it through. The thread tugged at his flesh while she stitched and he squeezed his eyes shut as the room spun.

“If you want to help,” the healer said, “get a roll of bandages.”

Rush forced his eyes open in time to see Aura dig into the leather bag. What the fuck was she doing? He paid the healerveryhandsomely to take care of injuries—the woman didn’t need help. It was only Rush that required tending at the moment, not a large group of soldiers. And he sure as fuck didn’t want Aura to see him like this.

Still, he said nothing to stop her. The concern in her eyes was … different. As if she might care. As if his health mattered for more than political reasons. A king’s health affected the entire court, but Rush was still a man. And he … wanted to matter to someone.

“There.” The healer tied off the stitches in his arm with a final, almost harsh, tug. “Wrap the wound, girl. We need to keep it from becoming infected.”

Aura knelt beside Rush and offered a nervous smile. “Are you doing all right? You’re pale.”

“That’s the blood loss,” he mumbled.

“Hold steady now,” the healer ordered. Then, in one sharp movement, she ripped the arrow from his shoulder.

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