Page 14

Cadence

The scent of blood hung thick in the air, sharp and cloying.

“I need a bowl of water and some cloth,” I called as I examined the man lying inert on Ryker’s bed.

“I’ll get it,” Riordan answered before he sprinted from the room.

“What was he hit with?”

Careful not to jostle the injury, I peeled the crimson-stained fabric from the man’s side.

“An arrow,” Ryker rumbled.

“He should be healing by now,” I muttered under my breath.

“Here,” Riordan panted, startling me for the second time that day.

“Thank you.”

I dipped the cloth into the clean water and set about clearing the blood away so that I could study the injury. An acrid odor hit my nostrils, and I leaned in closer to sniff the wound.

I turned to Ryker and Riordan. “I can smell iron,” I said, ignoring their twin expressions of disgust.

Riordan’s face paled, while Ryker’s expression darkened as he struggled to contain his mounting fury.

“Since he’s not healing as he should, I suspect a piece of shrapnel is still lodged in the wound. He’s unconscious now, but the moment I start poking around in his side, he’s going to wake up with one hell of an attitude. I need you both to hold him down while I work.”

The brothers rose in unison, with Ryker securing the man’s shoulders while Riordan held his legs.

“Do you have any brandy?”

I directed my question to Ryker, and he nodded toward a small cabinet I hadn’t noticed before. I rushed over, unlatched the lock, and rifled through it until I found what I needed.

Aged fifty years. What a waste.

Returning to the bed, I crouched beside the man, positioning myself so I had the best view of his side. My teeth wrapped around the cork, and I pulled it free before pouring a healthy dose of liquor over the wound. Unable to resist, I lifted the bottle to my lips and drank deeply.

When I lowered the brandy, both brothers were staring at me in disbelief. Their mouths hung open, and their eyes were wide with surprise.

I wondered if they realized just how similar they were. It didn’t seem like the opportune time to ask them, however.

“What?” I shrugged. “It’s aged fifty years.”

Riordan snorted, and a hint of amusement flashed across Ryker’s usually stony face.

“Ready?”

Both men nodded.

I took a deep breath to steady my pounding heart and pulled my magic around me. The man’s chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths, each one more strained than the last.

He didn’t have long.

When my fingers dipped inside the open wound, blood gushed from the site, and the man woke with a feral roar.

I could hear the brothers trying to soothe their friend, but it did nothing to quell his thrashing limbs. He bucked his hips off the bed as he tried to dislodge the arms holding him down. Riordan cursed when one of the man’s feet broke free and struck his lip.

“Come on, come on,” I murmured as I dug my fingers in deeper.

I let my magic guide me as I searched for the stray piece of iron that would be the death of this man if I couldn’t remove it.

My fingertips grazed something sharp, and the man roared in agony.

“How much longer?” Ryker gritted out as he continued to hold his friend down.

“I’m working on it.”

“Work faster.”

I glared at the Fae prince, and he glared right back. If the wounded man still struggling in their grasp didn’t require my attention, I’d have challenged him to do better.

Removing the iron was a delicate task as my fingers kept slipping off the metal from all the blood coating it. I swore under my breath when I failed to get a proper grip on the deadly tip for the third time.

The man on the bed ceased thrashing, and my gaze swung to him. His lips parted in a gasp, but no sound escaped. His eyes fluttered closed, and his breathing grew even shallower.

“No, no, no,” I muttered. It was then that I realized I didn’t know the man’s name. “What’s his name?”

“Malesh,” Ryker supplied.

“Malesh, I need you to stay with me, all right?” I said, working hard to keep the panic from my voice.

Malesh didn’t open his eyes, and Ryker cast a worried glance in my direction.

“Talk to him,” I instructed. “Try to rouse him.”

I doubled down on my efforts as I pressed my fingers against the iron tip. I slowly worked my way up the metal until I found a roughened groove.

Malesh jerked underneath me, and a pained groan sounded from his throat.

At least he was responding.

“You’ve got him?” I asked, and both men nodded in agreement.

I exhaled a shaky breath and apologized for what I had to do next, then I yanked on the tip, drawing on my magic for added strength.

The metal snagged on something, but I kept tugging until the resistance gave way.

Malesh, who had been writhing in agony, went still, losing consciousness as the pain overwhelmed him.

“He’s out again,” Riordan called, a note of hysteria infecting his tone.

“Ugh!”

The metal got caught again, and I cursed the gods for making things so difficult. A strand of hair fell onto my face, and I blew it out of my eyes as I worked. With one final pull, the iron tip came free, and I dumped it in the bloodied water bowl beside me.

“Put pressure on the wound,” I instructed, as I turned to grab the brandy.

Pouring a generous amount over the gash, I placed my palm against it and allowed my magic to flow through my fingers. The brandy would stave off any infection, but my magic would knit the skin back together and stem the bleeding.

Once I’d finished, I collapsed against the bedpost, exhausted, and rubbed my temples.

“You’ve got a little…” Riordan said, as he gestured toward my forehead.

Then I remembered my hands were coated in blood. And now, so was my face. I groaned and then reached for a piece of clean cloth to scrub it away.

Once I caught my breath, I leaned forward and placed my fingers against the pulse point of Malesh’s throat. It was weak, but steady. His chest rose and fell with effort, but his breathing had improved, and color had returned to his skin.

“He’s going to be all right,” I declared.

A collective sigh of relief filled the room.

I turned toward Ryker, truly taking him in for the first time since he had appeared. His hair was matted with blood, and the crimson substance was smeared all over his face and arms. There were several tears along the front of his tunic and a small gash on his forearm.

“What the hell happened to you?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Ryker smirked at me. “Worried about me, Cadence?”

I pressed my lips together and shrugged, refusing to give him the answer he wanted.

“Professional curiosity,” I said as I took another sip of the brandy.

Ryker’s large hand covered mine and tugged the amber liquid out of my grasp. He raised the bottle to his lips and drank greedily. And, gods help me, I couldn’t pull my eyes away as I watched his throat bob with each swallow.

When he set the brandy down, Ryker looked at me with a knowing grin. Heat scorched my cheeks, and I turned away from him, focusing my attention on Riordan.

“He needs rest and plenty of fluids to help him regain his strength. I’d also recommend having someone stay with him while he’s sleeping to monitor for any signs of complications.”

Riordan nodded. “Help me get him back to Melania, will you, Ryker?”

Ryker grunted and moved to grab Malesh’s upper body.

As the men left, I pressed a hand to my stomach, where tiny winged creatures fluttered wildly.

“Enemy, Cadence. He’s the enemy,” I reminded myself.

If only my traitorous body would accept it.