Page 26 of Tik-Tok

“She needs a healer,” he barked. His insides twisted and tightened. Panic clawed at his chest in a frantic bid to escape. “Now!”

Drusile darted back inside and her shouts seemed far away. He didn’t know what the hell to do. Should he wait for a healer? Should he race through the streets until he found one? There wasn’t time.

No time!

With each passing second, North grew paler and paler. He refused to look at her chest. Couldn’t bear to see it. To watch the life seep out of her, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. If he turned her to stone to stop the bleeding, it could make the wound worse. Perhaps he should risk it…

“North,” he demanded. “North, please.”

“Out here,” Drusile called, racing toward him with Respen beside her. He didn’t know how she’d found him so quickly—didn’t care.

“Move!” An elderly woodland fae shoved between them with a large black, leather bag. Long pale scars and deep pockmarks marred his brown flesh, shimmering green wings hung limp on his back, and there was a large depression on the side of his bald head. “Lay her on the table.”

Respen knocked the bowls of soup out of the way for him, but Tik-Tok simply held North closer. “Captain,” his crewmate urged.

“I want another healer,” he growled. If the woodland fae hadn’t been able to heal himself, how could the male hope to heal North? No. He needed someone better.The best.

“There’s no time for this,” the fae snapped. “Put her down and step away, or let her die.”

The next moment felt like ten as he ran through his options. But there were none. North was dying, her breaths slowing, so he set her on the table. He brushed her silver hair away from her face and didn’t budge from his spot. His knees hit the cobblestone beside the table so he was at her level.

“Don’t you dare die,” he whispered. “I don’t give you permission to leave.”

The woodland fae ripped the fabric of North’s dress to expose the wound and chanted words in another language. His eyes were pressed shut, thin lips barely moving, veins protruding on his forehead. A strong odor—one of death and decay—filled the air, followed by the intense tang of herbs.

But Tik-Tok still didn’t look. He didn’t listen to Respen begging him to move away so the healer could work. Didn’t pay any heed to Drusile’s shocked sobs. Instead, he gripped North’s freezing hand and continued to whisper that she wasn’t allowed to die. Not after he’d waited so many years to find her.

By the time the healer was finished, the moon was rising and a crowd had gathered. The old fae stumbled away from North, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck. “I’m unsure if it will be enough,” he wheezed.

“It had better be,” Tik-Tok growled.

Respen leaned into the healer’s side, pressing a few gold coins into his palm. “Thank you.”

“She will need to stay hydrated,” he said while Tik-Tok remained kneeling at North’s side. He dug through his bag and handed Respen a vial of brown liquid. “If she develops a fever, give her this. The magic I used was strong, but it will still be another day before she’s safe from death’s clutches. Take her somewhere warm and dry. No traveling via magic.”

“Respen,” Tik-Tok said in a hoarse voice. “Secure us a room at the Willow Inn.”

“Aye, Captain.” He hesitated a moment before stepping closer. “What shall I tell the crew?”

Tik-Tok stood, his knees aching from the hard cobblestones. “The truth. Rizmaela betrayed me, paid with her life, and I will return to the ship once North has healed. You’re my new first mate.” He lifted a tired gaze to Respen. The elf should’ve been his first mate from the start, especially since he knew the reason Tik-Tok wanted the portal open so badly. But he’d insisted he wasn’t ready before. They both knew he was now. “Keep them calm and don’t let any of them run off. While I stay with North, you need to find out if Rizmaela was working alone or if there are more traitors on board.”

Respen took a deep breath and nodded. “Leave everything to me.” Then he was gone.

Tik-Tok carefully eased an arm beneath North’s knees and shoulders. She moaned at being jostled as he lifted her, and he offered a gentleshh.Finally, with North tucked securely against him, he made his way toward the only decent inn in town.

Respen secured the largest room at the Willow Inn before returning to the ship. Tik-Tok knew Respen could handle the crew. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have promoted him. If anyone from his ship started a fight in a tavern or fell overboard after overindulging, that was on them.

North, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything to Rizmaela. So why? What caused his first mate to shove a dagger in her chest? And would someone else on the ship try to finish the job? Tik-Tok’s mind kept circling back to that thought. Respen would find out—but what if…? Tik-Tok had led a mutiny against Captain Salt. Was this a cruel twist of fate? To have his crew turn on him? But whynowwhen he was so close to opening the portal?

Tik-Tok tucked the wool blanket around North again despite the fact she hadn’t moved since he’d put her down. She would need a clean dress before they left—one that hadn’t been torn open, nearly exposing her breasts. A square, white bandage dipped in healing herbs covered the wound, but once it was removed, her chest would be fully on display.

One day.

The healer said the danger would pass by then. For such a wound, it sounded too good to be true. But North’s breathing was now steady and she no longer bled. He’d been too hasty judging the healer by his appearance.

Setting the vial on the small table beside the bed, Tik-Tok eased down to the floor with a grunt. He rested against the bedframe, his head leaning back on the edge of the mattress. The ache in his knees had spread through his body, throbbing most painfully where his golden arm met his shoulder.

He plucked off his blood-stained gloves and tossed them into a corner. His metal fingers clicked against his palm as he made a fist. The pain of losing his arm had left him incapacitated for weeks. In fact, he’d almost died of infection—something the sea witch never bothered to mention being a concern. Only after a skilled healer removed the remaining few inches of his arm, taking it right up to the shoulder, had he healed enough to commission the enchanted arm.

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