Hidden Hero (Ancient Court #3) (The Hidden Saga Book 9) by Amy Patrick

Author:Amy Patrick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amy Patrick

15

Wes

My leg. It throbbed, and at the same time, it felt frozen, immobilized. Though the pain was no longer agonizing, it ached from my knee down to my ankle.

Hypothermia must be setting in. Or shock. Blessed shock, it would make my death out on this cold, hard ground bearable.

But when I flexed my hands at my side, my fingers didn’t encounter cold earth or even wet ground cover but something cushiony and warm. Slowly my eyelids opened.

I was in my own room. A fire burned in the hearth, and there was a glass of water and two pain relief tablets on the table beside my bed.

Someone had found me after all. They’d somehow managed to get me home, up the stairs, and into bed.

I ventured a glance down at my maimed leg, which was outside the covers, propped on several folded blankets. Whoever he was, my rescuer had also set the break. The shin was back in proper alignment, firmly splinted, and looked like a human limb again, though the skin was black and blue.

Who could have done this? And what germs were they carrying?

This could be really bad. I’d been exposed to who-knew-what pathogens. But then I supposed it was better than being left to die in a field. I really wouldn’t have stood a chance out there alone.

Perhaps the visiting physician happened to be on the island off-schedule. But then… no. No one had been able to travel to and from the mainland all week because of the bizarrely persistent storm. And the splint was made from a fireplace shovel—not exactly medical-grade equipment.

I sniffed the air, detecting the distinct aroma of sizzling bacon and toasted bread. My rescuer and erstwhile paramedic was apparently cooking.

The only thing I could come up with was that Mum and Nanna had found a way around the ferry situation. As far as I knew, the transposition spell could not be used to teleport oneself—only someone or something else. But who knew what sort of solution they’d cooked up? I knew Mum had tired of being stranded in Mallaig days ago.

And then I thought of Alessia. Was she still on the island? And what was I going to tell Mum and Nanna about her? No doubt they’d checked the apartment above the stable immediately upon their arrival.

As soon as they realized I’d regained consciousness, they’d both pepper me with questions about my injuries, how their prisoner could have escaped, and where she might have gone.

The door to my room opened, and I slammed my eyelids closed again, feigning sleep. I wasn’t ready to give any answers. My lungs demanded extra air and my hearing turned super-sonic as someone moved about the room—I could detect the rustling of clothing and light footsteps on the wooden floor.

Light footsteps. Perhaps Olly had come along after all. Slitting my eyes for a peek, all I could see against the backlighting of the fireplace was a female figure. And then I smelled the food. And the soap. My soap.

Alessia.

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