Page 119 of The Ever King

Tait took the measured powder with care and handed it to me. We began a strange dance of adding herbs, stopping the blood, then pressing the remedies in the wound. Tait would hold the press against Erik’s skin while I fought not to retch as I stuck my fingers around the wound, lining it with herb after herb.

His blood never seemed to cease flowing, and I didn’t know how Erik was still breathing.

My body was flushed, strands of hair stuck to my forehead by the time a ghastly looking mound of herbs was packed into the gash. Like a stone bandage. But the blood had stopped, and the king’s skin had a bit more color to it.

I slumped onto the bed, one hand absently falling to Bloodsinger’s leg. “I think . . . I think we might’ve done it.”

Tait appeared to be as pale as his cousin. Mutely, he gathered the herbs and filed them back into the basket. “That should hold for now. Go. You look like you’ve been vomited out of a sickly whale. I’ll watch him.”

“No.” I stood, body trembling, but I took a protective stance in front of the king.

Tait’s lips curled enough I could see the jagged points of his canines. “No?”

“Those men came to kill the king and take me for my magic. I’m not leaving him since I am the only person in this room who I know does not want him, or myself, dead.”

“You think I’d betray my cousin?”

“Oh, I think many things of you.” Again, an unnerving desire to defend Erik Bloodsinger took hold. I didn’t understand it, but felt a great deal like a rabid pup about to lash out and bite should anyone come too close. “You’re the next bloodline who can take the throne, right?”

Tait looked ready to finish the job of the assassins. “You don’t understand how our world works, earth fae. You don’t understand anything about me.”

“Nor do you know anything about me.” I placed a hand on the bed, positioning my body between Tait and Erik’s sleeping form. “There is a debt to be repaid here. Bloodsinger saved my life. Where I am from, that means I owe him. That means, I’m not leaving him with anyone I don’t trust. And Idon’ttrust you.”

For what seemed a thousand heartbeats we glared at each other. I prayed he couldn’t see how desperate my body was to collapse, how much blood I was losing from the gashes on my legs.

At long last, Tait scoffed, a wicked kind of grin on his face. He lifted the basket of herbs and backed toward the door. “All right, you desire to protect him, so do I. I’ll guard the outer doors. No one comes into his chambers without me knowing.”

“No one touches him without going through me.”

Tait chuckled darkly. “And what a fearsome thing you are.”

He could mock me all he wanted. I knew I looked as though the Chasm had spat me out; I knew the only reason he was truly leaving was he’d done his trick of reading my heart. It didn’t matter, I slumped on the bed in relief when Tait left with a final word that I was to inform the king if he woke that the assassins would be taken to the prisons beneath the palace.

My head spun as though locked in a fog. I checked the bandage on Erik’s waist once. My fingertips brushed the top of a thick, puckered scar on his hipbone that trailed beneath his trousers.

While he slept, Erik was softer, almost peaceful. I brushed a bit of his dark hair off his brow.

“Don’t die, Serpent,” I whispered. “I’m not finished with you.”

CHAPTER41

The Serpent

Clumsy hands prodded at the wound in my side, drawing vomit to my throat from the pain, and I wanted nothing more than to cut them off.

A looming form hovered over me in the dark, and loud, nasally breaths blew against my face.

“Murdock,” I said, voice rough. “Touch me again, and you lose your fingers.”

The boneweaver smelled of sweet ale, but his eyes were clear when he glared at me. “Your flesh is packed with more linens than your bedding, Sire.”

No wonder it felt as though my ribs were made of stone. Still, I swatted him away. “That stuffing kept me breathing, no thanks to you.”

Murdock’s bulbous cheeks flushed in a deep rouge. His hair was shorn to his scalp, and his head seemed too small for the plumpness of his body. If the bastard hadn’t built up an immunity to my blood, I’d send him to the far seas to heal spiked silver fish for the rest of his days.

“Next time, do try to avoid getting stabbed on the first true revel in turns.”

“An excuse you made up in your own head.” I propped myself onto one elbow, wincing at the tug of skin beneath the bandages. “You are boneweaver to the king, there are no excuses.”