Leith struggled to get up but only had the strength to raise his head. He flopped back to the ground, gasping between clenched teeth. He was spent. Done.
Respen lifted a knife, gripping it by the blade in preparation to throw.
Renna faced Respen and shielded Leith, one hand braced on the other side of his body. “No. You will not harm him. You’ll have to kill me first.”
“No…” Leith’s hands pressed against her waist as if he was trying to move her out of the way. “Renna, don’t.”
She refused to budge. Leith had been willing to sacrifice himself for her. Shouldn’t she be just as willing to sacrifice herself for him?
Leith didn’t want her to do it. She could feel his desperation through his struggle behind her.
But for once in her life, Renna had the same courage as her mother. Her mother had turned around to face death at the hands of First Blade Vane. Renna could do nothing less facing Respen now.
She met Respen’s dark eyes. Would Respen kill her? A few days ago, Leith had believed Respen didn’t want to torture her. And she’d sensed something in him when they’d talked about Clarisse.
But would it be enough? Would it stay his hand?
“You couldn’t prevent Clarisse’s death.” Renna searched Respen’s hard face for the glimmer of softening that name normally caused. “Do you really want to be responsible for mine?”
Respen hesitated, the knife poised to throw.
A man in green and silver vaulted into the room, sword drawn. Renna had only time to capture an impression of a scarred face and blond hair before more men piled into the room behind him, some with swords drawn, others with arrows nocked.
The scar-faced man pointed his sword at Respen. “Drop your knife, Respen Felix. You are under arrest.”
Respen eyed the man and the bowmen standing behind him. As one, the bows creaked as the bowmen drew them back.
Turning his gaze to Renna, Respen gave her a slow nod, almost a bow.
He dropped the knife.
49
Renna sagged as the knife clattered on the floor. The war was over. The killing. The torture. The fighting. All over.
The scar-faced man twitched his hand, and four men rushed Respen. Two tied his hands behind his back while two others searched him for more weapons. Respen stood straight, not like a man defeated.
As soon as he was secure, Renna turned to Leith. He lay on the floor, gasping in short stabs. Both arms wrapped around his stomach. His eyes squeezed shut so tightly his whole face twisted. Blood soaked his trousers all the way to his left boot.
She cradled his head. “It’s all right now. Deep breaths.”
“Can’t.” Leith’s body shook. “Rib. Broke.”
She ran her fingers over his lips. Her fingers came away streaked with blood, though she couldn’t tell if the blood came from a punctured lung or his split lip. She leaned closer, but she didn’t hear a gurgle in Leith’s pained gasps. She felt along Leith’s chest until she located the sharp lump formed by the fractured rib. Leith cried out and knocked her hand away by reflex.
“Calm down. I didn’t yank two knives and an arrow out of you to have you die on me now. Deep breaths. I need you to fight the pain.” She gripped one of Leith’s hands and rested her other hand against his cheek. “Can you do that for me?”
For a moment, she wasn’t sure he’d heard her. Then he nodded. His chest shuddered as he tried to steady his breathing.
A commotion across the room yanked her head up. Several of the soldiers dragged Ranson to his feet. He was shouting and struggling to free himself. Blane lay on the floor, still and pale.
Renna eased Leith’s head back to the floor. “I’ll be back in a minute. Our friends need help.”
She clambered to her feet and dashed across the room. Ranson met her gaze. “Please help him.”
She knelt and pressed her fingers to Blane’s neck. Tears gathered in her throat. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. He’s dead.”
“No.” Ranson sagged in the soldiers’ grasp. Tears leaked down his face.
Had her and Leith’s words reached Blane? Had God given him hope before he’d died? She didn’t know. And that was the worst ache of all.
She swallowed back her tears and looked around. One of the other Blades sprawled lifeless. The other five had their hands bound, and soldiers herded them to the door.
A few feet away, a soldier bound Martyn’s hands behind his back. Martyn’s head hung. His shoulders sagged like he was one of the defeated Blades.
Jamie stood in front of the scar-faced man, saluting and pointing toward Ranson and Martyn. That must be the man in charge. A captain or something. Renna had better explain that Ranson and Martyn were on their side before they got locked in the dungeon. And she needed help to carry Leith to someplace where she could tend him.
She marched over to him. “Sir, what are you going to do with these two Blades?” She pointed at Ranson and Martyn. “They fought Respen. They’re on the side of the Resistance.”
“They’re still Blades.” The man’s voice rasped, as if he struggled to talk. “They’ll be locked in a cell until a proper inquiry can be held.”
Of all the…she huffed a breath. She didn’t have time to argue. Not with Leith as hurt as he was. “Please, at least lock them in a separate cell from the other five Blades. They’ll kill Martyn and Ranson if they are locked up together.”
“Very well. I’ll instruct my men.” The man studied her. His head cocked slightly, tipping the scar away from her and highlighting his angular cheeks and nose with candlelight. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with clear, blue eyes and straight, blond hair. His eyebrows scrunched. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
Should she? She peered closer at him. He didn’t look familiar.
“I’m your cousin Keevan.”
Keevan. She saw it then. The scraggle-legged boy who’d teased her at every chance, who’d made things so difficult for her and Brandi that her parents had stopped visiting Nalgar Castle. Once, she’d overheard her father muttering something about how Uncle Leon could rule a country, but he couldn’t rule his sons.
The silence had stretched too long. She managed a weak smile. “I’m glad you’re alive. Now, could you spare two of your men? Leith needs to be carried to somewhere I can tend him.”
Keevan waved to two soldiers. “Please stay with the lady and aid her as she requires.”
Spinning on his heels, Keevan pointed at the soldiers guarding Respen. “Bring him along. Time to stop this war.”
Oh, of course. The battle in this Tower was only a fraction of the fighting. The whole castle was crawling with Respen’s soldiers.
No matter. The rest of the battle was Keevan’s concern. Hers was Leith.
The two soldiers stared at her, still as mountains. Jamie rocked back and forth, waiting for her instructions. She drew her back straight. “You two, fetch one of the cots from the room down below.”
They both nodded, wheeled, and marched down the stairs.
Jamie bounced on his toes. “Are you going to tend him in the common room? I’ll go start the water boiling and laying out bandages and other supplies.”
“Yes, please do.”
Jamie pelted from the door. Hopefully he wouldn’t tumble into the soldiers on their way up with a cot.
Renna returned to Leith’s side. His breaths came steadier, though every muscle remained tense with pain. She touched his hand. “Hold on a little longer.”
His fingers curled around hers. She held his hand until the two soldiers returned with the straw tick from one of the cots. They lifted Leith onto the tick and carried him from the room. Renna trailed behind them as they navigated down the four flights of stairs.
In the common room, Jamie had lit every candle and lamp and clustered them around one of the tables. Renna directed the soldiers to set Leith on the table. Leith shuddered with the force of his gasps, but at least he was still breathing.
Jamie hur
ried from the kitchen nook and set a tray of supplies on the table next to Leith’s head. “What can I do?”
Renna reached for the small knife on the tray. “Clean the burns and spread the open ones with balm.”
She cut away the fabric around the knife wound. The knife had sliced the muscles of his upper thigh and nicked the bone, but it had missed the major blood vessels. He’d bled a lot, but he wouldn’t bleed to death. She bit her lip. He might have a limp for the rest of his life. How would Leith handle that?
No time to worry about that now. She uncorked the brandy and dumped it over his wound. Leith groaned.
The Tower door flew open, showing a patch of black castle wall and deep blue sky pinpricked by stars. Shadrach dashed inside, still carrying his bloodstained sword. Blood spattered the front of his trousers, boots, and shirt, and more blood dribbled from a tear on his left sleeve.
He skidded to a halt by the table. His sword clattered to the floor as he gripped the table’s edge. His square jaw tightened. “What did Respen do to him?”
Renna could only imagine how Leith looked to Shadrach. Thin. Beaten. Burned. “Torture.”
“He looks…dead.” Shadrach’s voice cracked.
“I’m also awake and can hear you.” Leith didn’t open his eyes, but his mouth quirked. The laudanum Renna had given him was working. “And if I was dead, it’d hurt less.”
Shadrach hung his head. “I never should’ve let you go.”
“Wasn’t your choice.” Leith eased one eye open. “I told you. You’d rescue us.”
Renna handed Shadrach a roll of bandages. “If you’re going to stand there, you’d better help.”
Together, she, Shadrach, and Jamie tended Leith’s wounds and bandaged his leg, burns, and broken rib. When they finished, Renna turned to Shadrach. “I can tend your arm now.”
He glanced down at the tear in his sleeve. “It’s just a scratch. There are others more wounded.”
As much as she wanted to stay at Leith’s side, others needed her more. Once she would’ve stayed in the Tower, waiting for someone else to step in first. But now, she was strong enough.
She pointed at the soldiers Keevan had assigned to her. “Stay with this man until I can locate a place to let him rest.”
The soldiers nodded and positioned themselves on either side of the table.
Jamie and Shadrach led the way from the Tower and across the wooden bridge. Both of them kept their weapons drawn. Renna gripped a saddlebag she’d stuffed with supplies from the Tower. Was the battle over? Or was it still raging somewhere in the castle?
As they entered the passageway and headed toward the cobblestone courtyard, cheering echoed around them. When they entered the courtyard, she spotted the Eirdon banner, a silver cross over a light green background, flying over the battlements against the dome of stars.
Rows of soldiers stood in the courtyard, staring at the king’s window. Renna craned her neck. Keevan stood framed in the window, a knife to Respen’s neck. That explained the cheering.
Still, the evidence of the battle remained in the courtyard. Bodies lay strewn over the cobbles. Blood pooled around them like the aftermath of a grotesque rain. Renna squeezed her fingers into fists. So many people needed help. Where did she even begin?
A soldier stepped over to Shadrach and saluted with two fingers pressed to his forehead. “Captain Alistair, we’ve set up a temporary infirmary in the Great Hall as you requested.”
“Gather the men and search for the wounded.” Shadrach returned the soldier’s salute. When Jamie took a step to follow, Shadrach rested a hand on his shoulder. “Stay with Renna. She’ll need the extra pair of hands.”
“Shad!”
A body with a head of blond hair slammed into Shadrach. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
Must be Jolene. Renna glanced away. Should she head to the Great Hall now or should she wait?
Shadrach stepped back and turned Jolene around. “Look who I found.”
“Renna!” Jolene crushed Renna’s ribs with her hug. “You’re safe. When that Blade arrived with only Brandi and told us you’d been left behind, I was so worried for you.”
“I’m fine, thanks to Leith.” Renna held up the saddlebag. “I was on my way to help the wounded.”
Shadrach squeezed Jolene’s hand. “I need to report to General Stewart.”
“Go on. I’ll help Renna.” Jolene swatted his arm and turned back to Renna. “Let’s go.”
They hurried to the door of the Great Hall. Renna halted in the doorway. Wounded men lay in rows. Some lay on blankets, others had simply been set on the ground as they were. The castle healer knelt by a man, trying to tend to a gaping wound in the man’s stomach while also shouting out orders to the other men and women who had volunteered to help. Renna spotted most of Nalgar Castle’s kitchen staff and a few of the other maids in the light cast from the torches and lamps.
Where should she start? The wounded needed help, yet someone needed to organize this mess.
Jolene placed her hands on her hips, scanned the room, and gave a nod. “I’ll fetch my mother. She’ll get this straightened out.”
While Jolene dashed off, Renna found the castle healer and explained. The healer gave a relieved look and pointed toward the near end of the Hall. “The worst of the wounded are on that side, the least on the other end. What supplies I have are on that table over there.”
Nodding, Renna gathered a stack of supplies and handed most of them to Jamie to carry. If only she had her medical kit. But she’d manage. Heading to the far end of the Hall, she started on the first patient in a long row lined across the hall. She fell into a rhythm, cleaning, stitching, bandaging.
Lady Lorraine swept into the hall and barked orders. Some of the tension in Renna’s shoulders relaxed. With Lady Lorraine in charge, these poor men would finally get some water and some blankets to lie on.
As they approached their next patient, Jamie made a strangling noise in the back of his throat, dropped his armload, and crashed to his knees. “No, no, no.”
Renna knelt. A layer of blood coated the patient’s face. Based on the skinny body and short height, the boy couldn’t be older than thirteen. He’d taken a sword to the skull, resulting in a deep gash that had peeled the skin away from the bone. Must’ve been a glancing blow, and the boy’s leather helmet must’ve slowed some of the force. From what she could see, it hadn’t cracked the skull. A good sign, but she couldn’t tell what sort of damage the blow had done to the boy’s brain.
Easing off the helmet, she brushed a lock of red-blond hair away from the boy’s face. And shrieked.
It was Brandi. Her hair had been chopped short and blood covered half her face, but Renna knew her sister’s face better than she knew her own.
She turned to Jamie, her voice and hands shaking. “What’s Brandi doing here?”
“She refused to be left behind. She sneaked along with the army and didn’t tell anyone until three days after we’d left. By then, it was too late to send her back, and she threatened to sneak away by herself if I tried.” He hung his head, a tear leaking out of the corner of his eye. “I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve stopped her. I…”
Renna laid a hand on his arm. “We don’t have time for this now.” She’d get mad at Jamie later. Right now she had to save Brandi’s life. “Get me fresh water.”
Jamie hurried to do her bidding while she studied the wound once again. “Please be all right, Brandi.” She stroked the hair away from Brandi’s temple. She’d have to cut away most of it along one side of Brandi’s head. Pulling a knife from her supplies, she sliced away the short strands of Brandi’s hair.
When the wound was free of hair, she poured the last of the brandy over it before cleaning it with the water Jamie brought her. Threading her needle, she steeled herself and pushed the first stitch through Brandi’s scalp.
She never imagined this, never in her wildest nightmares. Whatever possessed Brandi to dress as a boy and join
the army? Brandi must’ve been determined—desperate—to go to such lengths.
Each stitch became a prayer for healing, each tug of the thread another petition at the Lord’s feet. Renna’s hands grew steadier the longer she prayed. Aunt Mara told her once that she always prayed while she worked. It steadied her hands and placed the burden of healing where it belonged.
After she tugged the last stitch through and tied it off, she spread salve over the wound and wrapped a bandage around it. With the blood cleaned from her face, Brandi appeared pale and drawn. Renna traced Brandi’s cheek and turned to Jamie. “Don’t leave her side.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Jamie sat cross-legged on the floor with a look that said only a tornado could move him away from that spot.
Her heart aching, Renna moved on to the next patient. The wounded men also had mothers, sisters, wives, daughters, and families waiting for them to return. She couldn’t neglect them to stay by Brandi’s side any more than she could to remain by Leith.
But as soon as the last of the wounded was tended, she’d plop herself by their sides and nothing would drag her away.
50
As Leith drifted awake, he became aware of the sharp pain in his leg, the ache of his ribs, and the throb of his burns. He forced his eyes open.
He lay on a cot in an opulent room. Rugs covered the floor while wood paneling and thick drapes covered the walls. A set of chairs clustered around a fireplace a few feet away, but a tall screen prevented him from seeing the rest of the room.
The sound of footsteps and fabric rustled on the other side of the screen. Should he call out? Why was his cot screened off from the rest of the room?
The rustling drew closer until a slim figure in a blue dress bustled around the edge of the screen. The candlelight glinted off her blond hair.
“Renna.” Her name rolled off his tongue, rasping through his dry throat.
She looked up and smiled, though her eyes remained shadowed. “You’re awake! I didn’t think you’d sleep too much longer, but it’s a relief that at least one of you woke up…” She trailed off, her smile dying as she glanced at the screen as if she could see what lay on the other side. She slipped into one of the chairs and drew it closer to the head of his cot. “How do you feel?”
Defy (The Blades of Acktar Book 3) Page 28
