Page 85 of The Enemy's Daughter

“What are you doing?” Liam asks.

“Where’s your medicine bag?” I demand of Dr. Henshaw, even though he can’t answer me. He must have clamps in there. Only I don’t get a chance to search for it because Percy roughly picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. “No,” I shout, kicking and pushing as he carries me out of the room.

Then it hits me that even if I had every medical instrument needed to save Tristan’s life, they wouldn’t let me use them. They want him to die.

It leaves me only one choice.

“Liam, make him stop,” I shout, begging him to listen.

Liam frowns. “Percy, wait.”

Begrudgingly, Percy sets me down, but his arm remains on my waist.

“In about five seconds you’re going to need to save my life,” I say, “and you won’t be able to do it without untying this man.” I point at Henshaw. “He’s a doctor.”

Tristan jumps in his chair, adding a physical objection to the ones he’s bombarding me with in my head. He’s still alive and conscious—is it possible Liam only cut the external jugular?

“Isadora,” Percy says, tugging me, “you can’t save him. Just... go for a walk. Let us handle it.” He speaks with the patronizingtone of nearly every clansman I know. Translation:Leave this for the men to deal with.

No. Not this time.

I close my eyes and fight the distractions pulling me in every direction. Worst of all is Tristan’s barrage of memories—his demands.

Don’t do it, Isadora. It’ll kill you.

Listen to me, I love you.

But louder than his attempts to say goodbye is his injury. It calls for me like a siren screaming in alarm.

Taking on his wound is exactly as I hoped. The connection is no longer a barely-fed creek we have to manipulate to do our bidding; it’s a waterfall under my control. I welcome it.

Come.

Red hot pain explodes across my throat as my skin splits open. The vein in my neck goes next. Liquid warmth spills down the front of my blouse and Percy’s arm.

Tristan stills, and shock ripples through him. Then I’m hit with a wave of his fear. He throws up a mental wall, blocking me from taking more, and although he succeeds, he’s too late.

I refuse to look at him as he screams at me through his gag, begging me to give some back. But I block him now. We can’t share this. There’s only one person in this room Henshaw will be allowed to help.

“What? What is happening?” Percy shouts.

My hands clutch my neck in an attempt to stanch the flow.

Liam’s panicked eyes rake down me in confusion. Then he rushes toward me as he removes his shirt.

Tristan’s chair rocks as he fights against his restraints.

Some blood enters my mouth from the overflow coming from my hands, and I gag, then spit. Panic threatens to overwhelm me as I gulp air. At least my airway is still intact.

With trembling hands, Liam presses his shirt against my neck. But it’s not going to be enough.

“What else? What do I need to do?” His voice is strangled.

“Un... tie him.”

Liam’s lips thin. Then he spins on Percy. “Do it!” It’s an order.

Dizziness hits, and when I attempt to sit, Liam catches me, lowering me to the floor. A flurry of noise fills the room. More shouts. A crash.

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