Page 50 of Mirror of Malice
Shadow coughed out a snort, but Penn shot her a glare, and she sobered her expression.
He stepped forward, fists curled. “If I’m so horrible, then why didn’t you run with Shadow? Why did you step in to save me?”
I swallowed at how close he now stood to me, at the hard planes of his face, the burning in his eyes. That passion. So much passion.
“I wasn’t saving you,” I gritted out. “I was trying to block the stairway path so you couldn’t kidnap me yet again and take me back to Mosswood Forest.” I spread my arms out. “Welcome to Gilraeth. I’m sure you’re going to love meeting my betrothed.”
Penn’s eyes flashed with warning. “We’re not meeting your betrothed. We are getting out of here, Lilypad. One way or another.”
“No. I didn’t come this far just for you to haul me back to your forest.”
“You’re—” He stopped suddenly, letting out a groan. For once he didn’t have a comeback. Then I saw his hand over his side, the dark stain on his shirt, the red slipping through his fingers.
“Boss!” Shadow jumped to her feet and ran to him, and I stumbled back, staring at the blood seeping from the wound in his side. Shadow lowered him to the ground and looked back at me. “Get my rucksack. Now, Princess!”
I ran to it, fumbling with it as I handed it to Shadow. She shook her head, pressing her hand to Penn’s wound. His face was pale, his eyes fluttering closed.
“Stay with us, Boss,” Shadow said. “Mother fucking earth, that dragon must’ve sliced him open with one of its talons.” She nodded toward the bag. “Get out the bandages and the salve.”
I nodded, digging through it. “He didn’t say anything.” My voice shook.
“Does that really surprise you?”
“No,” I said quietly, handing her the materials. “It doesn’t.”
“Okay.” Shadow looked at me. “You need to press your hand down on his wound to staunch the flow of blood. I’m going to rip off his tunic and apply the salve, then get him bandaged. Hopefully the wound isn’t too deep.”
Penn lay unconscious now, and I knelt beside him, pressing my hands down just like Shadow instructed. He still looked so formidable, even when suffering from a deadly injury. His chest rose with shallow breaths, and sweat dotted his forehead.
Shadow lifted his satchel over his head and set it on the ground, then ripped his tunic, exposing his muscled chest and abs, covered in scars.
“What are those from?” I breathed out.
“That’s his story to tell,” Shadow said, applying a thick, clear salve to the edges of his wound. She grabbed the bandage and unrolled it.
“I’m going to need your help with this part. We need to roll him over and get the bandage around his waist.”
I nodded. “Whatever you need.”
I grunted as I pushed Penn’s body, rolling him to his side while Shadow worked the bandage around him. His body was so hard and firm, no soft edges anywhere.
“Okay,” Shadow said, and I gently lowered Penn to his back.
“Now what?” I asked, eyeing him.
“We need to watch his wound, get water to make sure he’s drinking. Other than that, we wait. Can you stay with him while I go scout out the area?”
I nodded, not taking my eyes off him. When I finally did look up, Shadow was already gone. I scooted closer to Penn. The sun rose higher in the sky, but up here we had no shelter from its harsh rays. It was still early, and though we were at a higher elevation, it would only get hotter as the day progressed. We needed to make some sort of shelter.
His satchel lay by his head, the mirror most likely inside. I could snatch it and steal away. Now was my chance.
Penn took shallow breaths, and blood seeped through the bandage. I couldn’t leave him. Fuck. I couldn’t, and I didn’t know why. I just knew it wouldn’t be right.
A long scar ran from his chest down to his navel, raised and jagged, like a lightning bolt. Other smaller scars cut across his ribs, his abs, his pecs. Light blond hair covered his chest, and I wanted to reach out and touch it, run my fingers across it.
Instead, my fingers found their way to that long scar running the length of his torso. They danced over it lightly, and I wondered what could have caused such an injury.
“The trees,” he whispered, and I snatched my hand back, cheeks burning. “When I was a boy. They almost killed me.”
