Page 93 of The Splendor of Fire
All five men, plus Birdy, took an oar, rowing out of the enclave and toward the open sea. Finding the wind, Sea loosed the sail, running across the waves in the direction of Skye. They released their oars, all panting with effort.
Birdy shed the circlets, necklaces, bracelets, and rings into a bag of silver, wiping sweat from her brow. Lion felt a twinge of sadness as she pulled trews over the rippling muscles of her legs. He frowned deeply and winked at her, but she did not admonish him or call him toad or donkey as she sometimes did when he flirted with her.
Wrapping the plaid around her shoulders, she hugged herself and put her head between her legs, her blond curls whipping in the swift wind. Moonlight hit the side of her face, and he could see the sickness returning to her features. Donning his half-wet tunic from the bottom of the boat, he climbed over the benches and settled next to her, placing an arm around her.
Beithir sat across from them. “The two of you were incredible. The King will be impressed, especially with you, Birdy.” She raised a hand in thanks and then brought it back to her forehead. Lion rubbed her back. Another legend to add to the Bird’s mythic feats.
Beithir eyed her. “What’s the matter?”
Lion rubbed the back of her neck. “She’s sick again.”
Sea piped up from the stern. “If I stay along the shore, she doesnae ge’ afeared, bu’ as soon as we go into open water she gets the boak. Figured that oot when I sailed her home from Lochbuie last year. I don’t have a choice but to cross open water if we need to make it by dawn.”
Her hand left her forehead and went to her leg. It was then Lion noticed a stain trickling across the deck. He dropped to his knees and lifted her leg, rolling her trews up. Along her calf, a barbed slash pouredblood. The cut was much worse than he’d realized in the cave. “She’s hurt.”
Swaying forward and sideways, she collided with his ribs, nearly collapsing on the deck.
Beithir crouched beside him and examined the wound. “She needs stitching. Lay her facedown along the bench and elevate her legs.”
Settling her on her belly, Lion swept curls from her face, sitting beside the bench on the deck. Rock handed a dry box to Beithir. Thunder took a seat and elevated her legs across his lap, staunching the blood with her plaid.
Doing his best to distract her, Léo ran a finger over the slope of her nose and across her high cheekbones. “Your first battle wound. Aren’t you proud?”
Eyes desperate, face green, her shaking hands formed words beneath the bench.Sick. I’m sick.
Lion got a finger around a bucket and had it under her face just as she lost what little she had left in her stomach. Sweeping her soft, springy curls into his hands, he held them away from her face and rubbed her back until she finished, then tossed the contents of the bucket over the side. Placing it back beneath her face, he smoothed her hair across her head as Beithir poured fresh water over the wound and threaded the needle.
Fingers shaking, she talked to Lion.I’m scared. Don’t let me go in the water.
He chuckled.“You’re not going into the water. We’d have to sink. And Sea would never let anything happen to this boat. It’s new.”
A small smile brightened her pale face.Will it hurt?
“A bit, but Beithir’s good at stitching.” He showed her the shiny scar along his knuckles. “After Pontvallain.” He lifted his tunic and showed her the swipe along his ribs. “Chevauchée in Besançon.” He grinned and paid her a cheeky wink. “I’ve got another wound he stitched, but I can’t show you that one.”
Beithir pinched her flesh together. “Aye, that was the worst one for me. Arrow right in the bahookie.”
Thunder burst out laughing. “Och, man.”
Dangling over the bucket, she gripped his leg and wretched. Lionheld her hair back again and tried to keep the conversation moving and her distracted. “I wasn’t running away, before you say anything. It was during archery practice. Younggendarme, arrogant bas—” He remembered Birdy, and the Lord, and stopped himself. Thunder smirked as he continued. “Arrogant fellow messing about with a crossbow and dropped it. Rebounded off a wall and sank right into my…miche.”
As she finished retching, Beithir touched her leg. “Ready?”
Yes.
The needle went into her flesh and she tensed and bucked. Lion lowered his arm across her shoulders and kept her still. Tears trickled out of her eyes as Beithir worked small stitches along her flesh by lantern light.
Heart pinching, Lion eased his fingers along her neck and talked beside her ear. “You were incredible,mon petit oiselle.So strong and brave. We couldn’t have done this without you. You’re right. You can do this all on your own—but you pay me a great honor by allowing me to work with you, to protect you.”
Her shaking hands formed unsteady signs.I was wrong. I need you, Lion. Don’t leave me. Don’t let me fall.
“I needed you too. You protected me and saved my life.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.
Beithir nodded. “Aye, she moved faster than I did. Thank God she was there.” He tied off the stitches, clipped the string, and poured clean water over the wound, then waved air over it. When it dried, he opened a pot of honey and smoothed it over her stitches, then made a poultice of comfrey, binding it to her leg. “Don’t roll your trews down, let air get to it tomorrow. It will heal faster.”
Thank you, Beithir.
Rock and Thunder moved to the stern of the boat with Sea, and Lion pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. He leaned back against the side of the boat, his heart finding relief with her in his arms.
