She burst out, running through the flames and out into the night just as I collapsed.
The blackness took me.
11
“Gothel.”
My whispered name broke through my consciousness. I heard his voice, rich and silken, a low baritone that felt comfortable and familiar.
I wanted to open my eyes. Behind my eyelids, I saw splotches of yellow and red, but making my body respond to my command wasn’t working, so I relented, and went back to the place where I had been—the darkness where I couldn’t feel the pain.
“Gothel, wake up, please.”
The voice came again. This time, I managed to open my eyes. An oilskin tarp was the first thing I saw. It fluttered back and forth, revealing a flap that opened to a landscape of white sand dunes and a faded pink sky. I breathed deeply, hoping to make myself wake up. Dry, desert air filled my lungs.
Someone squeezed my hand. I turned to find Raj sitting beside me.
“Gothel,” he breathed.
I reached for him when pain lanced through my middle, so I held still.
“Where am I?” I barely recognized my hoarse voice.
“She needs water,” another voice said beside me, and I turned to see Drekken opposite me. He held a flask to my lips. I hesitated before drinking.
“Is it water?”
“Of course,” he said with mock indignation. “What else would it be?”
I was too thirsty to argue, so I drank from his flask. Thankfully, cool water coated my parched throat.
“We all thought you were dead, lass,” another voice said. The dwarf walked toward me. His shoulders were hunched, and his mouth was stuck in its usual frown, yet I saw a hint of relief, perhaps a look of compassion, in his eyes.
“What happened? Where are we?”
“Raj killed the guardsman,” Drekken said. “After that, we found the horses and escaped into the desert.”
“Killed him?” I asked Raj.
“No,” Raj corrected. “I injured him, but he escaped. We’re not sure if he’s dead.”
“With the wounds Raj gave him, he must’ve bled out,” Drekken said.
“We should still be wary,” Raj said. “There are other guardsmen out there. They’ll be looking for Gothel, too. We’re not safe, even now that we’ve entered the desert.”
“How far are we from Al-Maar?”
“A day, at most. Assuming we’re able to travel without being attacked or slowed down. Since you saved the horses, we should make good time,” Raj said.
“The horses are okay?”
“Yes, they’re fine. We found them on the edge of the desert.”
I sighed, looking at the canvas overhead as I did my best to ignore the throbbing pain in my midsection, wondering how it was I’d managed to survive the guardsman’s attack.
“Raj was about to tend your wound. We’ll wait outside,” Drekken said. “There’s an oasis nearby, and we need to collect more water if we wish to make it across the desert today.”
Drekken and the dwarf left the tent, leaving me alone with Raj. I rubbed my forehead, feeling a dull headache throbbing through my temples. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Raj tending my wounds, but I hardly had the strength to argue.
He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. It wasn’t the carefree look I’d become so accustomed to.
“Gothel, please allow me to apologize. I should not have hesitated to follow you into the stable. After you left to save the horses, the guardsman attacked me, just enough to incapacitate me so he could enter the stable behind you, I thought…” he swallowed. “I thought he would kill you. He almost did.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know the guardsman was following us.”
“True, but I should have known he was the one who set the fire. I should’ve realized he was trying to ambush us. He could have killed you.”
He looked away from me, swallowing hard, as if trying to control his emotions. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. The guardsman injured me. Not you.”
He only nodded, and I wished I could’ve said something to ease his regret, but what? I didn’t blame him for my injury. How could he have known the guardsman would ambush us? Neither of us had known.
“Will you allow me to tend your wound?” he asked. “I know it won’t make things right, but I feel I need to do something to help you.”
What other choice did I have? “Very well,” I said.
He nodded, removing a rolled linen from his pack and a vial of ointment. Rosewood, perhaps?
“You carry rosewood oil with you?” I asked.
“Yes. All the king’s soldiers keep it with them for injuries on the battlefield.” His fingers hovered above my waistline. “Are you ready for this?”
Despite being stabbed through the gut, the butterflies returned. I’d hoped being sliced open would have gotten rid of the annoying feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, but no such luck.
“I’m ready.”
He gently lifted the fabric of my riding gown, which I noted had already been cut open. Bandages lay across my abdomen, just below my ribcage. They were soaked through with dark blood.
Raj lifted them away one at a time. The iron-rich scent of my own blood filled the air. I wanted to gag, but held still as he removed the last bandage, revealing a cut that perfectly severed through my flesh in a straight line. Jagged black thread crisscrossed the wound, sealing it shut.
“You stitched it?” I asked.
“Yes, as you can see, I’m not as proficient as you.”
“It looks fine.”
“I guess so. The good news is that you didn’t injure any vital organs, and the bleeding has stopped, but I fear that if we don’t keep the wound clean, taint could set in.”
He picked up a bowl filled with water. After wetting a cloth, he lightly dabbed the wound.
I balled my fists against the pain. Though he worked gently, fire burned through my skin, as if I’d been stabbed all over again.
Sweat beaded on my brow, and my agitated stomach twisted, threatening to heave up the little bit of water I’d managed to drink.
After cleaning away the dried blood, Raj picked up the vial of rosewood
