Page 18 of Bought By the Revenant (Monsters’ Bride Market #1)

Chapter Sixteen

Riven

Her eyes close, and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore.

“Amity?” I shake her gently at first, then harder when she doesn’t respond. “Amity!”

She’s limp in my arms, her head rolling back against my shoulder.

Her skin has turned an awful blue color, and the makeshift bandage is completely soaked through.

I press my fingers to the side of her neck, searching for her pulse.

I find it after a terrifying moment of nothing, but it’s weak and uneven.

We have at least an hour and a half before we reach the mansion, and I don’t know if she’ll survive that long.

“Faster,” I tell Olaf, though he’s already pushing the horses harder than he should on these terrible roads.

With trembling fingers, I brush Amity’s cheek. “Wake up. You must stay awake.”

Her eyelids twitch but don’t open, and panic takes hold of me, because I know what happens when wounded people slip away into sleep they can’t wake from. I slap her cheek again, harder, even though it makes me sick to strike her.

“Please, Amity. Open your eyes.”

Her lashes finally part. Her blue eyes are cloudy and unfocused. She tries to speak but no sound comes out of her mouth, just a soft exhale that barely stirs the air.

“Don’t try to talk,” I say. “Just stay with me. Focus on my voice.”

She blinks once to show she understands. The carriage hits a deep rut in the road and jolts us both, making her face twist with pain. I shift my hold on her, trying to cushion her body with mine and absorb the worst of the impact, but I know every bump sends fresh agony through her.

“I’m going to tell you a story,” I say, because I need to keep her mind engaged and alert, need to give her something to focus on besides the pain. “Something I’ve never told anyone.”

Her eyes drift to my face, then away, as if even looking at me takes too much strength. I turn her face back toward mine, holding her chin to make sure she can see me.

“It happened many years ago, when I lived in Ethelburg.”

The words don’t want to come out because I’ve kept this story locked inside for so long, but if telling it will keep her alive until we reach home, I’ll tear open every old wound I have.

“I was respected there for my work with soul transference, but I was lonely. My tower was at the edge of the city. I had a laboratory on the top floor where I worked, and living quarters below. It wasn’t a place designed for a family – all stone, and stairs, and strange equipment – but I tried to make it comfortable. ”

It’s hard to remember those years of my life.

The small garden I planted on the balcony because I thought a wife might enjoy tending flowers, the cushions I bought for the hard stone benches in the sitting room, the collection of fiction books, because I thought a woman might not be interested in medicine and prefer to read fiction.

“I decided to send my blood to a Marriage Temple. I never expected to receive a response, but then a letter arrived.”

Amity’s fingers move against mine, the tiniest squeeze that might be her trying to comfort me. I squeeze back.

“The letter said they had found a match. A perfect match. I was overjoyed. Ecstatic. Everyone says the DNA test is always right, but sometimes it happens that when you submit a blood sample, they don’t have the matching one on record.

If you’re lucky, they get it in a few months, or years.

If you’re unlucky, like I always am, your soul mate never even submits her own blood to the Temple.

For the first time ever, I could say I was lucky.

I didn’t even have to wait long. I spent weeks preparing for my bride’s arrival.

I bought new furnishings, commissioned paintings, filled the pantry with delicacies from across Alia Terra. ”

The carriage lurches over another bump, and Amity’s eyes start to slide closed again. I shake her gently.

“Stay with me, Amity. Please.”

She forces her eyes open and gives me the smallest nod.

“The Temple arranged our meeting. I wore my finest clothes and tried to look...” I gesture at my face.

“… as presentable as possible. I waited in a room on one of the upper floors of the Temple, my heart pounding like it was about to burst through my chest. When she entered the room, she saw me, and…” My voice cracks, and I shake my head.

“The horror on her face. I’ll never forget it.

She backed away, screaming. I tried to speak, to reassure her, but that only frightened her more. ”

Amity’s eyes widen.

“She kept backing away toward the balcony. I didn’t realize the danger until it was too late. She was at the railing, and then… She fell. Or jumped. I don’t know which, but I’ve always believed she chose death rather than being with someone like me.”

“No,” Amity whispers. “Not... your fault.”

“The Temple officials said it was an accident,” I continue, “but I saw her face. The DNA test is never wrong, and when she realized that I was her perfect match, it destroyed something in her. I think she couldn’t bear the thought of what that might say about her.”

Amity’s lips move again, forming words I can’t make out. I lean closer, nearly pressing my ear to her lips.

“You... deserve... better,” she manages to say.

A lump forms in my throat, and I have to swallow several times before I can speak again.

“After that, I left Ethelburg. I couldn’t stay there with the memory of my falling bride haunting me.

I built my mansion far from the city and promised to never put another woman in such an awful situation.

Until you came along.” I stroke her hair back from her face.

“I never imagined someone would choose me willingly, but you did.”

“Smart... choice,” she whispers, and the tiniest smile touches her lips.

“Stay with me, Amity. We’re almost home.”

Her eyes close again but when I call her name, she manages to force them open.

For the rest of the journey, I talk about anything I can think of.

I tell her about the improvements I want to make to the house, about the books in my library she might enjoy, about the lake where we’ll have our bonfire wedding.

Each time she closes her eyes, it takes her longer to open them.

Then the carriage finally rolls into the drive, and I lift her in my arms, and Olaf jumps down from his perched seat and holds the door open.

Tomas and Nell run to us. They must’ve watched the windows since I left, worried sick about both me and Amity.

“Master?” Nell’s face goes white when she sees Amity’s condition.

“She’s been badly wounded. I need hot water, clean cloths, and my surgical kit. Tomas, bring everything to my workshop immediately.”

“Yes, Master.” They both rush away.

I carry Amity through the house, noticing how light she feels in my arms, how fragile her body seems. In my workshop, I sweep everything off the table and lay her down in the exact same spot where I first stitched her arm, when the garden fence fell over her.

We kissed here for the first time, and that led to more…

so much more… And I can’t think about it now, I have to focus.

“Amity. We’re home. You’re going to be all right.”

Her eyes stay closed. I check her pulse again and find it even weaker than before, a barely-there flutter under cold, damp skin.

Nell rushes in with a basin of steaming water and an armful of clean cloths. Tomas follows right behind her and goes straight to the cabinets, from where he pulls out my surgical kit and various jars and bottles.

“Cut away the bandage,” I tell Nell, who nods and begins working.

The soaked fabric falls away in pieces, revealing the deep gash on Amity’s inner arm.

The Elder’s knife cut deep into her flesh, slicing through layers of skin and muscle.

The wound gapes open, still seeping blood despite the pressure I’ve been applying.

She’s lucky to be alive at all. I start cleaning it with antiseptic solution.

Amity doesn’t move or make a sound, not even when I have to probe the deepest parts of the laceration to check for debris.

Her complete lack of response terrifies me more than her screaming would.

“She’s lost too much blood,” I say.

I have an idea, desperate and risky, but possibly her only chance at survival.

“I need to give her some of mine.”

Nell looks up at me. “Master?”

“My blood.” I start rolling up my sleeve. “I’m a universal donor. My body is made of many parts, many blood types. I’ve used it before in emergencies.”

That’s not entirely true, because I’ve never done this exact procedure before. In Ethelburg, I had better equipment than I have here. I’ll have to make do with a very rudimentary setup.

“Tomas, bring me the small brass box from the cabinet. The one with the red symbol.”

He hurries to retrieve it while I continue preparing. Inside the box, there are instruments I’ve collected over the years for various purposes: hollow needles of different sizes, glass tubes, rubber stoppers to create seals. The equipment is primitive, but it will work for what I need.

“Nell, prepare her other arm. Clean it with alcohol.”

They both work without questioning me, trusting me even though what I’m about to attempt seems impossible.

I select two of the largest needles, and a length of clear glass tubing, then sterilize everything with alcohol before passing the needles through the flame of a lamp to ensure they’re perfectly clean.

The method is crude but effective: direct transfusion from my vein to hers.

“Hold her arm steady,” I tell Nell.