Page 80 of The Bone Season

‘Warden,’ I said.

No reply.

I put the jerkin on a chair. Before I decided what to do, I had to check how bad it was.

He was on his back, wearing the remains of a dark shirt. The sheets covered him to the chest, already stuck to him with light. Intending to take a pulse, I reached for the side of his neck, just where it met his jaw.

Before I could, a gloved hand caught my wrist. I tensed as I locked eyes with Warden.

‘You.’ His voice was thick and raw. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I live here,’ I reminded him.

‘You usually spend more time in the Rookery.’

‘Not tonight.’ I held still. ‘Go on. Tell me this is all in my head.’

Warden released my wrist. I scooted out of reach, my heart thumping.

‘You’ve bled all over the place,’ I said. ‘What happened to you?’

‘Nothing of your concern.’ He did his level best to sit up, only to fall back into the pillows, grasping his side. ‘Though you may … stay to watch me suffer, if you wish. No doubt you will enjoy it.’

His throat was glazed with sweat. I wanted to give him a tart reply, but instead, I nodded to his shirt. ‘You need to get that off the wounds.’

‘I am aware.’

‘So do it,’ I said flatly. His grip on his side tightened. ‘Fine. I will.’

‘No.’

‘Look, I can’t stand you, Reph. But if you die, I don’t know what will happen to me, and my life has already been turned upside down,’ I said in an undertone. ‘Patch yourself up or let me do it.’

Warden returned my gaze with defiance, dark circles etched under his eyes.

‘If you don’t need me, you must think someone else is coming. Where are they?’ I pressed. ‘Are you sure they’ll get here in time?’

His eyes closed.

‘Fetch water and salt,’ he said, defeated. ‘Look in the display case.’

In the parlour, I found a salt cellar and a spoon, along with linen. I set them up on his nightstand. Next, I brought a bowl of steaming water.

‘You must wear gloves,’ Warden said, trying to sit up again. His movements were laboured. ‘It is … strictly forbidden for us to make direct physical contact.’

‘Your gloves are too big for me.’

‘Do as I say.’

Reluctantly, I did. As I picked up the gloves, I noticed something else in the drawer.

A letter opener.

The sight of its sharp tip gave me pause. Last time, I had decided that saving Warden was in my best interests. Now all that reason was leaving my head, chased away by the gleam of a weapon.

Warden was clearly too weak to stand. This might be the last time he was at my mercy. I had thrown away one good chance to get rid of him. No criminal worth her salt would miss two.

Suddenly the gloves were on, and the letter opener was in my grasp. All the anger I had stowed was surfacing with every breath. Nashira had destroyed my life. I could teach her how that felt. If she was going to execute me, I would take her consort first.

---