Chapter. 42
I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. My body longs for the couch’s warm fabric the moment I stand. Morning sunlight peeks through the windows, scattered by the curtains and making the white ashes in the fireplace sparkle. Rahlan is absent. He must’ve already woken up.
My dry mouth urges me to get a drink. I hesitate before touching the golden knob on the bedroom door. A strong chemical smell assaults my nostrils the moment I press it open. Rahlan’s mixing potions on a desk with his back to me.
I step around him to grab the waterskin, careful not to disturb him before retreating out of the room.
“Sit,” he says.
I stop at the door’s threshold. His gaze hasn’t moved off his work.
I take a seat on the bed, watching him as he pours two clear liquids into a gray mixture. He cuts a strip of linen off a large shirt belonging to the previous resident. Small bubbles form around the strip as it’s submerged into the solution.
He kneels by my legs. It’s odd not having to look up at him.
He begins peeling back the bandage around my arm, taking great care not to pull off any healing scabs around the wound.
A familiar smoky aroma fills the air as he lifts the new bandage out of the gray mixture. I stare at the long cut on my arm. This is my first time seeing it. It’s not gaping open, but rather a thin red line, and it feels deeper than its surface level appearance.
I wince as he begins wrapping the soaked bandage around my forearm.
“Too tight,” I gasp.
He grabs my wrist to keep me still. “’Tis necessary.”
I grit my teeth and try to resist the instinct to pull away. He’s a soldier. He’s probably done this a thousand times before, whereas I’ve never dealt with anything worse than a minor gash. I should trust his judgement.
He finishes the tight wrapping, ending it with a knot. His eyes travel carefully up and down my arm, inspecting the skin beside the bandage. He’s meticulous with his work.
After a few minutes, he seems satisfied enough to move on to the bandage around my chest. My gaze follows his hand as he picks at the knot that holds it all together.
I wrap my arms around my stomach. When this bandage comes off, I’ll be topless in front of him. I know that he has to change it, and it would be stupid to risk attracting a disease over a little embarrassment, but I can’t help but feel vulnerable under his eyes with the power he has over me. If he wanted to humiliate me, in front of the soldiers or just himself, I wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him.
The bandage loosens, and my arms shoot up to cover myself. He tugs the old material out, revealing the cut on my sternum. I keep my arms crossed tight over my chest, shielding myself from his eyes.
Bubbles form in the gray potion as he dips a cloth into the liquid. He leans closer with the damp material in hand, his eyes boring into my chest.
“It looks good,” he says.
What?
I wince as he dabs the cloth over the cut. Oh.
He folds over a small piece of linen and presses it against the wound, then he threads another strip under and over my arms.
The bandage gets snagged on my elbow, slipping out of his hand. His lips form a thin line. I’m allowing no more than a tiny gap between my chest and arm for the linen to slot in place.
The bandage catches on my arm again, making him growl. “You realize that I’ve already dressed this wound once?”
“Don’t remind me.”
He slides the final piece of the bandage in place and terminates it with a knot. I let my arms fall away, glad to be covered again.
He takes a seat beside me, the bed sinking under his weight. His hands work to unwrap the bandage around my head.
He adjusts my posture to inspect the wound. I hope it doesn’t look too bad. The terrible headache from before is gone, so it must be at least a little better. Despite him being partially responsible for these injuries, I’m grateful that he’s here to look after them.
His hands slip under my legs and lift me onto his lap. The stubble on his chin brushes against my neck, warning me that he’s about to take his drink.
I run my fingers over my hair that was covered by the linen. “Aren’t you going to put another bandage on?”
“No need,” he says. His teeth poke into me, and he begins syphoning.
This is the first time he’s drank from me since the battle. I was hoping that it would be a permanent change, but I suppose he was just giving my body time to heal. At least this affirms my belief that I am indeed getting better.
He pinches the cut closed, holding me for a minute.
His hands latch onto my hips and push me to stand. The room spins for a second from rising so quickly, but he keeps his hold on me until I’m steady.
He packs up his potions and steps out the door. “Be at the table for breakfast in one hour,” he says, leaving me alone in the room.
I grab the waterskin, collect some ash from the fireplace and head out the front door, careful to avoid the puddle of dried blood.
The bright morning sun warms my skin. The keep is situated on top of a small grassy hill, surrounded by the castle walls. The dirt footpath beneath my feet leads down the hill and splits into two. The one side connects to the stables against the wall where Mitten sleeps, and the other side attaches to the large wooden front gate, which is currently shut.
There’s a platform over the gate and a tower beside it. A soldier is leaning against the tower’s post – Keld, the scarred vampire with black hair. He’s watching me.
I find a dry patch of grass and make myself comfortable, trying to ignore his menacing gaze. I’m pretty sure I’m allowed anywhere inside the walls anyway. If he tries to chase after me, I can just slip back inside the keep.
I brush my teeth with the water and ash, making up for the days I skipped when I was recovering from my headache.
My fingers scrunch up into a fist, flexing the muscles under the fresh bandage. Rahlan may be compassionate right now, but what would he do if he learned that Ivan’s still alive? What would he do to me?
It’s not safe for me here. The question is not if I will go, but where? Now that Jacob’s gone, I have no family or friends, no one who’d welcome me.
I pick a long stalk from the grass and begin weaving it into a circle. That’s not completely true. Ivan is my blood, regardless of how long it’s been since I last saw him. But if he was easy to find, then Rahlan would have cut him down already. He was far better equipped to find Ivan then than I am now.
No. Rahlan may have had resources, but I have a connection to Ivan he never had. My brother was a Huntsman, a Huntsman who visited my uncle often.
I rack my mind trying to remember if he’d ever told me about Ivan’s home.
Nothing jumps out. He never described the paths he took or landmarks he followed, and now that I think about it, he was even reluctant to point out his routes on his map. The emergency plan to reunite in Fekby village was the first time he even showed me a path on his map, and that was the last day I saw him.
I sigh and press my hands over my eyes.
Fekby village, of the Kingdom of Faria. He was insistent that I memorize the route, like he was worried that our home would be lost, and we’d need to reunite somewhere else. On the night we fled, I remember being overjoyed that Neil and his companions were also heading to Fekby. It seemed like a windfall at the time, that I wouldn’t have to travel alone. But Rahlan wouldn’t let them escape. He took their eyes, his ritual of revenge inflicted on every Huntsmen he kills.
Four Huntsmen all planning to meet in Fekby? It couldn’t have been down to chance, that they all happened to pick the same random village. It’s a Huntsmen sanctuary. That’s where I’ll find Ivan, or where I’ll find someone who’ll know his location.
But first I need to escape. In both my previous attempts, I had to make a desperate dash from Rahlan who was never more than a few yards away. There was no other option. I was tethered to him and every step north was a step deeper into danger. Now, I can scope out my environment and plan my route.
The large wooden doors are immediately out of the picture. They’re sealed shut most of the time, needing two men to lift the large beam holding them closed. Plus there always seems to be a guard hovering around that area, watching the road leading to the gate. They’d spot me immediately.
I walk the perimeter around the castle keep, staying a good distance away from the walls so I can retreat inside if one of the vampires try to confront me. Five guard towers link the tall walls in an uneven pentagon. Each wall is in direct line of sight of two or three towers, and I can’t see any way to get over them that doesn’t involve going through one of the towers. Escape won’t be easy.
The front door opens behind me.
“Breakfast awaits,” Rahlan says.