Page 17 of Wicked Prince of Shadows (Wicked Princes #2)

CHAPTER NINE

Asharp scream tore out of my mouth before I even realized what was happening. Horrifying pain ripped through my thigh as sparks flew across my vision. My hands shot out, scrabbling at the marble edge. What in the hells was that?!

The large bud from the plant below was biting into my thigh, its long grey-black stem straining to reach me. The plant! It tugged me forward and bit down harder.

Osric grabbed my arm, tugging on me. “Sabine!”

My stomach lurched. I kicked out with my free leg, heel scraping against stone.

Hot blood poured down the inside of my leg and onto the floor and the back wall, dark against the ashen marble.

Vaguely I knew I couldn’t twist or else the teeth would tear more, but I couldn’t hold still.

I had to get it off. I punched at the bud as the pain seared up and down my consciousness.

A dark line lashed out in front of me and against the grey stem. The bud’s head loosened, the teeth still embedded in my flesh but no longer gripping as tight. Black ichor splattered the stone, hissing faintly, and a foul rotting scent filled the air.

My vision tunneled at the edges, tears rolling hot and unwanted down my cheeks as my nostrils burned at the scent.

A large hand grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back. I vaguely realized I was against the Hollow King’s chest as he held me fast, then leaned forward. “Steady,” he said against my ear. “Breathe deeply. Don’t move.” He then reached down in front of me. “This will hurt, I’m afraid.”

“You say that a lot.” I gritted my teeth as tears streamed down my cheeks, my breath snagging in my throat.

“Unfortunately you do things that make it true more often than not.” He gripped both sides of the bud and dug his fingers in. The bud's jaw released with a wet, sickening schlup. “All of these arrow buds should have been removed. Hold still.”

I gasped as fresh pain bloomed across my thigh and up my torso, the pressure gone but the wound now throbbing mercilessly. Blood welled from the punctures, soaking into the grey fabric of my dress.

I leaned forward, clamping my hands on my leg. An almost perfect ring of teeth marks encircled my inner thigh.

Bleeding hemlock! I wanted to punch a wall but that would just make the pain worse!

The Hollow King lifted the bud as black ichor splattered on the stone. Rising, he shoved the dripping thing into Osric’s arms. “Take it to the chef,” he snapped. “Save the teeth. We’re out of arrows. Some good can come of this.”

Osric’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but the Hollow King glared at him. “I said go.”

Osric blanched, then clutched the monstrous bud to his chest. “Should I get the doctor?”

The Hollow King softened slightly, then he shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I can manage this. But hurry to get that to the chef or else it can’t be used.”

The boy bolted, black boots slapping against the stone as he vanished up the staircase.

I struggled to stand, cursing whoever decided to make this entire tiered garden without railings of any kind.

“Can you not stay still for one minute?” The Hollow King demanded.

I bit back a reply, another wave of pain shooting through me.

Before I could fall, he slid his arm around me, and I found myself collapsing against his chest, my head swimming.

He guided me back away from the edge with surprising ease, then carrying me over to the staircase and lowering me onto a step as if I weighed nothing.

I sucked in a shuddering breath and forced my eyes open.

His face hovered above mine as he took my pulse—hard, angular, with large stitches at his mouth and up along his cheeks.

Yet somehow he didn’t look quite so severe even if his eyebrows were quite stern and dark above those burning, judgmental eyes.

“So…everything here is a predator, huh?”

He removed his hand from my neck before he sank down onto the lower step.

“Nature is vicious, cruel, and merciless.” He then reached inside his embroidered tailored robe and removed a jar of salve similar to the kind the doctor used on me.

He unscrewed the lid and set it on the stair beside him.

“You haven’t been poisoned so that’s something.

Now…if you can…hold still. Brace yourself and keep your leg straight or else it will scar. ”

“You just have that on your person at all times?” I raised an eyebrow at him, not sure whether to tease or commend him. “Or is just because of how badly it went the other night that you assumed I’d need it?”

He smiled slightly at that as he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

His forearms were well-muscled but heavily scarred with numerous stitches working up and down their length in uneven patterns.

“Wounds in this place have a habit of worsening swiftly, so it’s wise to carry remedies whenever possible.

Arrow buds at this stage can’t bite deeper than 3/4 of an inch.

Painful, yes, but manageable. The salve will help with that.

That chitter hound bit through muscle and flesh straight to your bone.

Salve can’t get deep enough unless one has the necessary skills and magic to push it deeper.

We’re fortunate that the good doctor is still as strong as he is given all he has endured. ”

“And also that your shadows can get all the way to bone apparently.” I shivered, remembering the pain and the intensity. I was only here in this place because of him, but he had saved my life. The thundering agony of the bite marks in my thigh intensified.

He scoffed, but the sound wasn’t particularly unkind.

“Shadows are quite flexible. It isn’t technically healing magic, but I have worked to adapt it to such in our time here.

Most importantly, it blocks off the blood vessels to prevent complete blood loss.

You won’t require stitches, but you must be careful.

Your good fortune may not last much longer.

Now lean back, not forward and try to relax the muscles. Deep breaths, Thabine.”

A weak laugh escaped my lips. “It’s Sabine. Not Thabine. I couldn’t talk through the blood in my mouth.” I leaned back on my elbows, breath shallow, the edges of my vision still hazy. My thigh pulsed like a heartbeat gone rogue. I hated this place so much.

The Hollow King hesitated, then dipped his head forward.

“My apologies then, Sabine.” He eased up the blood-soaked edge of my dress, his hands surprisingly gentle despite his claws as he bared the wound and folded the gown so that it rested higher on my thighs.

Blood slicked my skin, glistening in the watery light.

I bit my lip and tried not to flinch, even as heat crept up my neck. It was stupid to be embarrassed—he’d already seen far more of me last night with the spider-hound—but somehow this felt much more intimate.

His fingers brushed near the wound. I hissed through my teeth and tensed.

“I haven’t even applied it yet,” he said, the chastising arrogance in his tone setting me on edge even more.

“Your hands are like ice,” I gritted back.

He grunted in response. “Yes, well, this part will sting a lot. Breathe through it. Do not kick me.”

The salve touched my skin like fire. I clenched my jaw, tried to stay quiet, but a strangled cry tore from my throat anyway. My whole leg trembled as the balm burned like liquid fire laced with salt and lemon juice.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “It’s working.”

“Says you,” I gasped, gripping the edge of the step so hard I thought my knuckles might crack. I closed my eyes briefly, exhaling through the pain.

“Yes, says me. I know what I’m looking for.” His gaze remained fixed on my thigh.

Damn it. I’d never felt so raw and so exposed, my whole body aching and throbbing.

He applied another layer of salve, his touch firm and unyielding.

“Arrow buds don’t usually grow that fast. What did you do to it?

” He clicked his tongue. “I don’t know why I even ask.

You excel at causing trouble. I’ll have the guards move the planters with the arrow buds up onto the palace walls to help with the defense. ”

“I’m doing what you told me to do and trying to fix this garden.

” I bit back, fighting the urge to kick him where he crouched.

“You didn’t mention that the plants might try to eat me.

” As I focused on him, I noticed the numerous scars and stitches over what was visible on his body once more.

What had happened to him to lead to such scarring or a need for so many stitches?

I thrust that question aside. But he must have caught something in my gaze because he tilted his head. “What?”

“I just…these salves and medicines you seem to have are so strong. But everyone here has…stitches and scars. Why?”

He shrugged, and his expression softened.

“This place isn’t for anyone who is alive.

Everyone is drained in this place at different rates, no matter who they are.

Magic is in the blood as is life and vitality.

Over time, even with magic, powerful healing no longer works as well.

Sometimes the vessels heal, but the flesh does not want to come together.

The stitches ensure that it does and that the healing finishes.

It is as if our bodies become tired. And some wounds never heal. ”

A knot formed in my stomach. “Will healing come after the curse lifts?”

“Perhaps. But there is no way to know for certain. Legend says it might. It may simply be that we are free to depart and the portal will allow more than a few through.”

“Don’t you control it?” I asked, unable to keep the sharpness from my voice. “You knew all along that I wasn’t going to be able to get through the portal, but you didn’t tell me.”