Page 25

Evelina

Keir and Brielle helped Daimon off Zephyr and dragged him into the healer’s cabin.

“Put him on the table,” Evelina instructed. She called for Gloriana, her heart racing. Gloriana emerged from the back hallway, her eyes wide.

“We encountered rebels while riding,” Keir grunted. He hissed, clutching his leg as they laid Daimon down. His pants were stained with fresh blood.

“Lie down over here so I can check your wound.” Gloriana pointed to a cot across the room. Keir opened his mouth to protest and Gloriana shook her head firmly, adding, “ Now. ”

Evelina hurried by the hearth, where a bucket of fresh snow from the mountainside had melted into clean water. She washed her hands, careful to be thorough but quick. Then she hurried to Daimon and checked his breathing, finding it shallow but steady.

Evelina pushed his shirt open, swearing when she saw how deep the wound was. It started in the center of his chest and stretched up to his right shoulder; the ferrum arrow cut a deep slice in the skin, exposing muscles beneath.

She quickly dressed the wound with clean cloth. Then she raked her fingers down his arms, feeling for any other deep wounds with her fingertips. When she got to his hip, she paused. A tattoo peeked out from his trousers; the hilt of a sword diagonally placed in line with his hip bone. Next, she had Brielle help her roll him to his side to check his back. All of the cuts were surface-level, his skin already knitting itself back together. They laid him back down, his eyes still closed and body limp.

“I need to clean the chest wound,” she muttered.

Brielle, clearly anxious for her commander, asked, “How can I help?”

Evelina turned on her heel, grabbed a pair of scissors off the shelf, and returned to his side. She sliced the fabric of his shirt, starting at the bottom hem and working her way up. “Heat a bowl of water for me over the kettle and grab a sterile cloth off the third shelf, far right side.”

Brielle immediately disappeared to do as instructed. Evelina applied pressure to the cloth covering his chest, waiting for the blood to stop. She had to replace it with bandages three more times.

By the time Brielle returned, the bleeding had finally slowed. She set a bowl of boiling water beside Evelina and handed her more sterile cloth. Evelina nodded her thanks and scooped a spoonful of crushed elonia leaf into the bowl. Once it was dissolved, she dipped the cloth in.

“I need you to stand across from me and hold him still while I clean the wound.” She looked up at Brielle and nodded to the side of the cot she wanted her on. “He’s going to wake up when I put this on him. Keep him as still as you can.”

Brielle and Evelina switched sides. Brielle braced her hands on his good shoulder, while Evelina took a deep breath and pressed the cloth over as much of the wound as it would cover. Daimon immediately jerked against her touch, screaming in agony. Brielle pushed against his chest and grabbed the arm closest to her.

“Shh, I know.” Evelina didn’t bother telling him to stay still; she knew it was no use. She had pleaded with enough soldiers at the refugee camps to know it wouldn’t do any good.

He was still thrashing as she pressed the cloth against him, his eyes squeezed shut. Her hands worked quickly, letting the cut soak up the warm elonia water. Once she counted to sixty in her head, she took it off, and his body finally relaxed.

“You good, Evelina?” Gloriana called from where she was tending to Keir’s injury.

“All good,” she called back. She reached over Daimon and grabbed a small tin, unscrewing the lid. Now that the wound was clean, she could put a numbing salve on it to ease the pain. She scooped a generous heap onto her hands and smeared it across his chest until the gash was covered.

Daimon had fallen unconscious, his breathing even. Evelina nodded to Brielle and blew out a deep breath.

“He may be out for a day or two. The wound is deep and he’ll likely need several blood-replenishing brews,” Evelina said. “There’s nothing more we can do for him right now, but he needs to stay here until he’s healed.”

Keir walked up to them, a small limp in his step. “We should brief the others and take a group for an extra patrol around the area,” he said to Brielle.

Brielle looked at Evelina, her eyes flashing, likely remembering what Evelina did with the arrow during the fight.

“There’s much to debrief on.” She cast a final glance at Daimon and nodded her head. “Call on us if he worsens.”

“Of course,” Evelina promised. Once Keir and Brielle left, she bandaged the wound while Gloriana cleaned.

“We’ll need to get him to drink the replenishing brew as soon as he wakes,” Gloriana said from across the room. “But he needs rest for now.”

Evelina hummed her agreement and pulled a chair up beside Daimon’s cot. Gloriana bustled over and examined the wound. She focused her light on the deepest parts of the cut. Even with the strength of her light being able to heal most wounds, it barely made a difference with this one.

“It’s too deep, but I’ll try again in a few hours.” She frowned, her brows knitting together as she tried one last time. When the wound didn’t heal, she added, “I can wait with him. You should get some sleep after the day you’ve had.”

Evelina shook her head. “I want to stay. He’s my patient.”

She couldn’t sleep if she wanted to. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, her mind racing with thoughts of how the arrow had stopped before it touched her, her ears still ringing with Daimon’s screams.

Gloriana moved about the cabin, checking in on Evelina every few hours. Evelina kept a bowl of room-temperature water at her side, dipping a cloth in and pressing it to Daimon’s face often. He was sweating, but his body was shivering. She laid the back of her hand against his forehead, finding it warm to the touch. It wouldn’t be good if he caught a fever with a wound like this.

She grabbed a cooling mixture and poured it into a bowl of clean water, then stayed by his side throughout the night, wiping his head and neck until his skin was no longer burning with heat. Her eyes began to grow heavy, her head bobbing as she fought against sleep now that the adrenaline was wearing off. It wasn’t often she prayed to Eurydice anymore, but the moon goddess had answered her prayers. Daimon had made it back to the cabin alive.

“Thank you for saving him,” she whispered.

It wasn’t until then that she realized she didn’t want to lose him again.

Daimon was in and out for the next few days, slowly waking more and more each day. He wasn’t lucid enough to make any sense, but he was slowly getting there. At first, he only woke long enough to drink the blood-replenishing tea Evelina or Gloriana brewed. They took turns watching over him, and the other Riders visited him often.

Evelina met the rest of the crew during their visits—Aster, the only Undine of the group and soulbonded to Willow; Elias, one of the quietest Aegis she had ever met; and Ranick, another Aegis who was usually only around when Elias was.

She found herself struggling to leave Daimon’s side. She just needed him to heal so she could go back to focusing on bonding with the Alpha Fleet and working with Gloriana.

She climbed out of bed that morning stiff and still tired. Gloriana had taken the night shift with Daimon and Evelina was to take the day. She heard voices echo down the hallway as she slipped into leather pants and a linen shirt.

“No, don’t get up!” Gloriana nearly shouted, followed by the sound of a chair scraping across floorboards. “You may feel better, but you need to take it slow.”

A frustrated grunt answered her.

Evelina peered around the end of the hall into the main room, finding Daimon propped up on several cushions and holding a steaming cup of tea. She sniffed the air, finding the minty scent of the replenishing brew.

“You’re awake,” Evelina said softly.

Daimon lifted his gaze to her, his eyes red with the heaviness of sleep. “This one won’t let me get up yet.” He jutted his chin out at Gloriana, who smiled.

She got up from her chair, stretching her back out. “He’s all yours. I’m riding with Elias today.”

Daimon’s eyes dropped down to his tea as if it were the most interesting thing in the world as Gloriana left them alone. Evelina walked over and fiddled with jars on the wall, not knowing what to say now that Daimon was fully lucid and awake.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from hardly speaking the last few days. “Gloriana told me what you did when they brought me back to the cabin.”

She swallowed thickly, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart pounding. Even in the state he was in, she was still frustrated with him from their last conversation in the forest. But when she turned to face him and took his appearance in, it slowly dissolved.

His hair was messy, sticking in all directions. He hadn’t worn a shirt in days, but it was different with him awake, with him staring at her the way he was. His eyes were open—vulnerable.

She took in the rigid lines of his abdomen, the bandage that covered his wound. She cleared her throat and walked over to the side of the table. “I need to check the wound—likely clean it, too.”

He nodded his head and brought the cup to his mouth, taking a deep swig of the tea. She took the cup from him so he could lie down.

“How badly does it hurt on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst?” She lifted the bandage and he hissed.

“Around a three,” he said through a clenched jaw. She raised a brow. He sighed. “Maybe a five and a half.”

She shook her head and huffed a short laugh. “You have to be honest with your healer.” She pulled the bandage off and examined it, finding it healing nicely but in need of a debridement.

“I’ll try my best to be,” he whispered. His voice was so much deeper now. He had grown in more ways than one, his body toned and taller, his eyes harder and face unreadable.

She busied herself with heating water and prepping a bowl with crushed elonia. “This will sting, but not as badly as a few days ago.” She dipped a clean cloth into the bowl.

He tilted his head, confused .

She gently pressed the cloth to his shoulder, starting at the top of the wound. “You probably don’t remember. I did it when you first got here, and every twelve hours since,” she explained. “You lost a lot of blood. It’s natural for your mind to shut off when your body goes through trauma.”

He hissed through his teeth and gripped the edge of the table as she dabbed the cloth against the wound. It was mostly healed now; just a faint pink cut was left of the once-gaping wound.

Once she was satisfied the wound was clean, she busied herself with brewing a cup of rhodiola for him. She could feel his eyes on her, the heat of his stare prickling the back of her neck.

When she turned back toward him, he inhaled deeply, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.

“To calm any lingering nerves,” she explained, carefully handing the cup to him.

His fingers brushed against hers as he took it, and she could’ve sworn his cheeks burned red for a moment when they touched.

Something flickered in his eyes—a look of appreciation and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“You’re as brilliant of a healer as I knew you’d be,” he said quietly.

She felt a crack in her heart, the tiniest sliver chipping away at the wall she had built around it.

The corners of her mouth twitched up. “And you’re as stubborn of a soldier as I thought you’d be.”