Page 124 of Captive

You’re not a child.

My eyes water as I swallow, fighting the urge to vomit, but it doesn’t work. Hector’s brow rises as I hurry into the washroom and throw up in a basin.

“Sol,” he calls out to me. “Are you unwell?”

“I’m all right.”

I think.

Hopefully.

I grab a rag and wipe my mouth, then I clean and rinse away the horrible taste. As I lower the rag to the basin, I stare into the looking glass and grit my teeth. I have taken care of hundreds of wounds, but this time is different. It’s Hector I’m caring for.

I nod at my reflection and return to Hector, kneeling at his feet. “Who did this to you?”

“It was an accident during training.”

Carefully, I clean the wound with the herbs, wincing as I imagine Hector’s pain. “You’re supposed to use wooden swords for training.”

“We do.” He leans his head back against the sofa. “Well, most of the time.”

As I prepare a needle and thread to stitch his arm, I consider who might have injured Hector.

“Was it Cenric?” I ask as I recall watching them spar.

A smile tugs at the edges of Hector’s mouth. “What is your issue with Cenric?”

I shrug. “I have no issue with him.”

Liar.

Cenric is the epitome of danger and secrets. They burn in his eyes like a flame.

From the nearby table, I grab a jar of wine and hand it to Hector. He takes a long drink and lowers the jar to his thighs.

“Yes, you do,” he says, drawing my attention back to him.

“Did he do it?”

“Yes.” Hector drinks more wine before settling the jar on the table next to him. “Stitch me before I fall asleep.”

“Fine.” I stab the needle into his skin and exhale slowly as another wave of nausea hits me.

You will not throw up again.

I exhale again, fighting the urge until it fades. Thankfully, it doesn’t return as I stitch Hector’s wound. He doesn’t flinch, nor does he make a sound as I continue weaving the thread in and out.

“Tell me you at least landed a blow of your own?” I ask after I place twenty stitches in Hector’s arm.

“Why?” Hector asks, his tone prodding at my frustration with his cousin. “Are you keen on stitching Cenric too?”

I straighten. “Do I need to?”

Hector shakes his head. “Everly will attend to him.”

“You two trained so hard you injured each other?” How foolish and dangerous.

Hector grins, and I resist the urge to reprimand him. He probably wouldn’t appreciate my lecture.

---