Midnight and Silvered Glass by Emily Michel

Author:Emily Michel [Michel, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DragonSmith Publishing LLC

Chapter Nineteen

Betony’s heart beat like a frightened bird’s, and she snatched her hand back, grateful for this interruption. Her training kicked in and she jumped up to see to her patient. Whatever foolish thing she’d been about to do would have to wait, thank Idoya.

The blood streaming from Signe’s head and shoulder was pink instead of red, the rain and waves mixing with it until it barely resembled blood.

“Here, put her on the bunk.”

Her bare feet splashed in the water, the cold sending a shiver through her. Dorin scrambled away, wedging himself in a corner. The tiny cabin was nearly impossible to move in with five people standing when it was made for two at most. The sailors deposited Signe on the bunk.

“Are there more injured?” Betony kneeled in the icy water to examine the woman.

“Nothing too bad, but she took a boom to the head and was unconscious. She almost got washed overboard. Captain told us to stow her somewhere safe. We gotta go.”

They didn’t wait for any response and tromped out as quickly as they’d tromped in.

Dorin slammed the door shut behind them. “What can I do to help?”

Betony used her blanket to dry the wounds as best she could. They were not as deep as she’d feared, and now that Signe was out of the rain, the bleeding slowed.

“Pass me the mending supplies and light the lamp.”

Dorin tossed her the roll of thread and needles, and she almost missed it in the dimness. She tucked it under her arm as the scrape of a flint and steel lighter had her gritting her teeth against the mind-flaying sound. He let out a grunt of triumph, and light soon filled the tiny room. Betony poked and prodded Signe’s wounds. A couple of stitches on the forehead should close the wound, and the one on her shoulder was long but shallow. A simple bandage would do. Things could have been so much worse. Now they had to hope she regained consciousness. She pulled out a slightly curved needle and found the thinnest thread she could.

“Do you have some liquor in here?” she asked.

He grunted and rummaged around in a trunk, then passed her a bottle of golden liquid. She poured a little over the wound on Signe’s forehead.

“Hold the lantern close,” she ordered.

The light moved closer, and his presence loomed over her shoulder, comforting and supportive. She shook away the feeling—it was beyond ridiculous to feel anything of the sort about her captor—and quickly took care of the stitches.

Just in time, too. Signe’s eyes fluttered open as Betony snipped the thread.

“What? Where?” The woman’s head twisted side to side. She touched her forehead, but Betony pulled it away.

“You need to keep your hands off—I’ll apply some salve once the storm’s over. I need to clean and bandage the wound on your shoulder. Hold still, please.”

Signe nodded, and before Bet could ask, Dorin gave her some toweling.

“Thank you,” Betony said, both surprised and impressed.

He muttered something in return, but she couldn’t make it out over the howl of the wind and Signe’s harsh breathing.

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