Page 11 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers
He staggers into the back room as a cold gust comes through the cracks in the front door.
Pity is a strange thing. It both weighs heavy and lingers in the air.
I feel it in Keeva’s eyes the longer they watch me, so I turn to put my back to her.
The stove casts off peat smoke that fills the shack with a familiar sweet earth scent. I scrub my hands with a bar of soap with little yellow flowers pressed into it and wash the smoke and muck off in the bucket we keep by the door.
There’s a steaming pot of mushroom broth over the small hearth—I scoop out a mug of it for Finn, making sure to ladle out the best bits with extra lentils and barley for any strength I can give her. She takes it gratefully, bringing the salty broth to her lips and sipping slowly before rising on unsteady feet to use the privy out back.
Keeva settles onto a low stool by the fire, her eyes on the door until Finn comes back through. She helps her over to the bed, ignoring Finn’s protests. Only when my sister slumps onto the covers does Keeva bring her tight, dark gaze to Finn’s side.
“Show me.”
For a long moment, I think Finn’s going to refuse her again and I’ll have to rip the tunic up over her ribs. I might be hurt, and I might even be angry with my sister for not trusting me. But none of that matters in the big scheme of things. Nothing matters compared to her being okay.
Her beingalive.
Finally, Finn reaches for the hem with trembling fingers and draws it up.
The air slams out of my lungs.
“Finn.”My voice cracks.
The cut down my sister’s side is short and shallow, a thin streak of red the length of my finger. It’s the tendrils of black crawling from it, and the vicious yellow edges of the wound, that make me forget how to breathe.
But the wound isn’t bleeding. It isn’t even weeping anymore. The cut is new but not fresh—it must be several hours old, if not almost a day.
Keeva bows her head, pressing a soft kiss to my sister’s fingers. “You’re a damn fool, Finn Fallon. How many times do I have to tell you to keep your nose in the ledgers and out of their fights?”
No—out ofthefights. I misheard her.
Finn winces. “At least once more before it takes, I think.”
She groans as Keeva tests a finger along the skin around thewound, murmuring something too soft for me to make out. Finn nods tightly.
“I have a tincture for infection, but without knowing what was on the blade, we can’t try an antidote without risking making it worse. Some poisons react… badly to antidotes that aren’t their own.” Keeva reaches into the little sack around her soft hips and pulls out a glass vial of amber liquid. She unstoppers it, lets the droplets fall over the wound.
Finn hisses, her words unrecognizable.
We stay there, watching over my sister until her breathing deepens and her eyes start to twitch behind her lids in sleep.
Keeva finally shifts her gaze to me, and fear sharpens between us.
“She just needs to rest.” I try to sound certain. “Today was… a lot.”
Keeva laughs shortly. “You know how she loves any excuse to play big sister. You don’t always give her much of a chance.”
I bite back the bitterness, but it comes out anyway. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“No,” she admits. “But it doesn’t matter how old you get. You’ll still be her little sister. She’d do anything for you.”
“Except tell me whatever she’s hiding.”
Keeva’s dark eyes soften on me with a knowing look. “Finn loves you, Maeve. But some secrets take time to share.”
Of course that only makes me feel worse.
She stands, stretching her shoulders, glancing down once more at Finn on the bed. “Quite the time for a mad king.”
