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He bent to the task, starting around the edges, setting the cloth to the bloody fur over the hard muscle of her abdomen.

An hour later the wound was clean and the bucket full of reddish water.

“It’s getting a bit dim for stitching.” Arpix felt as if he was making excuses. He’d never sewn up such a large wound and the prospect daunted him. “Better to wait for dark and do it with the firepot close by.”

He stood, stretching the ache out of his back. Evar, who had passed by the mine entrance to check on Clovis a few times during his scouting, was standing about thirty yards off. He beckoned Arpix over. Wearily, Arpix went to him.

“You should be careful.”

It wasn’t the greeting Arpix had been expecting. “I should?”

“With Clovis.”

“I... I’m doing the best I can. I’m not a doctor. I got all this from books. This place... everything’s dirty, I’ve got no equipment... if she gets sick it won’t be because I didn’t try.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Arpix frowned. “I don’t understand then...”

Evar snorted. “My sister is... She’s had a hard life. Her family was taken from her, violently, at a young age, and she never forgets it. It makes it difficult for her to trust others. And. Well. Let’s just say, these things have ended poorly in the past.”

Arpix looked back at the hollow and the small group gathered there, then back at Evar. He felt as if he’d started a book on page two hundred in the middle of a complex plot twist that stood on a long story to which he was not privy. “Honestly, Evar.” He struggled for the right words in canith and growled them through an increasingly sore throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

It was Evar’s turn to frown. “She likes you. You know that?”

“Me?” Arpix took a step back in surprise.

Evar rolled his eyes. “You didn’t notice her sniffing you?”

“Sniffing?”

Evar shook his head. “Or the fact you’ve had your hands all over her and still own the same number of fingers?”

“I’m saving her life!” Arpix protested. “If the wound’s not cleaned, she’ll die!”

“And you’re the only one who can clean a wound, are you?” Evar showed his teeth in amusement.

“Oh,” Arpix said.

“Oh, indeed.”

Arpix felt his face colouring. All of him was suddenly too hot despite the reaching shadows and the wind’s chill.

“And you?” Evar asked. “What do you think of my sister?”

“W-well...” Arpix stuttered, his throat dry. This was territory he’d never trodden. Rarely even thought about. “I mean... she’s magnificent, of course. But...” He couldn’t really think of a “but.” He waved his hands about a bit, hoping some explanation might drop into them. Perhaps Wentworth would appear out of nowhere again and drag him off, saving him from his current mortification.

“Just be careful.” Evar turned and walked off. “And don’t hurt her, because Livira will be cross with me if I have to beat you.”

—

The sun had slipped low to the horizon by the time that everyone was gathered in the hollow before the mine opening. The shadow of the forgotten queen stretched across them, and the sky became a bruise.

Evar finally returned from his scouting to report that the skeer had retreated to three camps that were evenly spaced around the plateau.

“Perhaps they think the cratalacs have us trapped underground,” Meelan said.

“They’ll want to see them leave before they’ll believe we’re dead,” Jella speculated.