Page 44 of Wolf's Bane
“I expected better of you, Bartram. Gallivanting about on the solstice. Serves you right, but there’s nothing to be done. You’re here for the night,” Godwin said, Miles already forgotten as his gaze settled on Alek. Her father’s expression was inscrutable with the patch covering one eye. “Get patched up and go search for our wandering guests. Luis and I will track the beast. It’s moving slowly and will head to its den.” With that, Godwin pivoted on his heel and left before anyone could question his orders.
Luis looked from her to Miles, bent over with his elbows resting on his knees, and back to her. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Poison. A sedative, I think, but it is wearing off,” she said, glossing over the bite. Luis did not need the added distraction of worrying about Miles.
“You’ll stay with him?”
“Until you return. Go,” she said, giving Luis a light push. He glanced at Miles once more, then departed.
Solenne smoothed back her hair, discovering that most, if not all, had fallen out of the bun. Her hand trembled, and she laughed. Now that the crisis had passed, her body succumbed to terror. Her heart pounded in her chest and her throat tightened, like she would never breathe again.
“Solenne, are you well?” Alek asked, taking her hand. The warm, solid feel of him grounded her.
“I’ve never seen one, a beast, before. Well, there’s Tristan in the library, but alive, I mean. Never alive. I fear I’m babbling,” she said, seemingly unable to stop herself. The beast had touched her and shared her air. “It licked me.”
Alek’s grip tightened on her hand, and a throaty rumble filled the room. A growl, she realized, the thought distant from herself, like an observation from afar.
“You did well,” he said. His chest heaved, as if the words pained him. “If he had hurt you…but a serving tray? What were you thinking?”
“Silver,” she said, irritated at his faint praise wrapped in concern. “For all good it did.”
She twisted her arm, breaking his grip to switch holds. Lifting his hand to the light, she turned it palm up.
“No,” he said, pulling back.
Solenne refused to let go, her fingernails digging in. He made no sound of distress, not that she expected her blunt nails to go against the rough skin of his hands. Thick dark hair poked out from the edge of his cuffs. Violet blood stained the fabric, but that was not what she wanted to examine.
The crescent scar laid pale and almost silver across the palm of his hand. Lightly, she traced the curving shape.
“I remember this,” she said. Her own matching scar itched on the heel of her palm.
“We climbed to the top of the old mill to scavenge the solar panels,” he replied.
Amalie sent up the two children, as they were lighter and, therefore, it was safer to be on the rotted roof. Except it wasn’t, and the roof gave way. Solenne nearly fell, slicing her hand on a rusted nail as she gripped the edge of the hole. Alek pulled her back, also cutting his hand.
“I think Mama was more upset about the damaged solar panels than us nearly falling through the roof,” Solenne said before she could think better of it. She glanced at the door and the smashed window, as if Godwin would hear her make a disparaging comment about her mother.
It’s not that he never spoke about Mama. It was that grief had morphed Amalie into an irreproachable figure, incapable of flaws.
He broke her hold, picking up the heavy silver hammer and resting it on the injury-free shoulder. “I should find Chambers and this other fellow.”
“Your wound—”
“It’ll heal. It always does. He needs to rest. Stay with him. Lock the door,” he said, already gone.
With a sigh, Solenne turned her attention back to Miles, who carefully examined the armor he crafted. “Were you bitten again?” she asked.
“No. The material performed admirably, but you can already see signs of wear and tear. Most distressing.” He held up a section to illustrate his point, but she could see no difference.
Travers boarded up the window to discourage other “unexpected arrivals,” as he put it.
She examined Miles’ arm. A vivid bruise was already blooming on the arm the beast had clamped its jaws around. Solenne applied a thick layer of salve to help reduce swelling and promote healing, then found a serviceable bed for Miles. She poured a cup of tea down his throat to help with pain, despite his protests.
“You’ll hurt worse in the morning if you don’t,” she warned.
“I’ll hurt in the morning, regardless. It tastes foul.”
“That’s how you know it’s medicine,” she said, even as she added a spoonful of honey to the cup.
