Page 63 of The Knucker King

It overwhelmed her how grateful she was to experience this with him, no matter the tragic circumstances it took to get them to this point. To have him catch her as she fell, to sleep in his arms, to feel more of his tongue on her skin, to have her heart flutter as he coaxed her over, and to have his hand on her knee.

“I just wished this had happened under different stars,” she whispered, “so that you did not have to suffer so.”

Avice fiddled through the items in the medical satchel beside her, within reach ever since Trewoofe had slept in her bed. She pulled out a small vial of willow bark and tipped it into the last of her broth. It would help ease her aching, cramping muscles, and dull the throb of the bruise on her belly. She grimaced at the bitter taste as she drank, the concoction immediately numbing the tenderness she felt all over. She placed the bowl on the floor and turned to fluff the furs she would rest her head on.

When Avice lowered herself, Trewoofe’s arms wrapped around her, drawing her to his chest. She smiled dreamily, eyelids dropping in the cosy warmth.

“Goodnight, boys. Thank you for everything today,” she murmured.

The sound of Ashling’s chime and Bramble’s thudding tail sent her off to sleep.

24

Chapter 24

Avice

Adull thump the following morning tugged Avice from her deep sleep. She cracked open an eye and closed it again. She nuzzled into Trewoofe’s bandaged arms, determined to rest after the last few exhausting days.

Another thump.

Avice groaned, and turned into Trewoofe’s chest, pressing her cheek to the soft linen. She squeezed her eyes as she heard Bramble rise and pad over to the door, claws clicking on the rammed earth floor.

Avice.

“No, Bramble,” she murmured. “God’s blood let me rest.”

Another thud which – now that she was not half asleep – was clearly a knock, had her trying to bury her head into the blankets.

Avice, it is—

“Midwife Avice?” John called from outside the door. “There has been an accident, one of the fishermen… Are you there?”

Guilt pricked at her. She had planned on staying on the pallet, snuggled up against Trewoofe for as long as she could that morning. Clearly, the day was conspiring against her.

She stuck her head out. “Coming!”

Avice heaved herself up, muscles screaming from the day before, and shuffled over to her coffer to pull on a robe. She opened the door a crack and squinted up at John’s face in the midmorning light.

“What is it?” she snapped.

John jerked at her tone. “Bad-tempered today, are you not?”

She studied him for a moment. He was wrapped against the chill, but there was a blaring bloodstain on the front of his beige cloak.

Avice inched the door open a little more, face pinched with worry. “What happened?”

“A Morgowr attacked Benjamin Courier,” he replied, pointing to the stain. “It damn near took his arm off.”

She blinked as her mind caught up. “Wait, a Morgowr?”

Avice had not heard of the oceanic Dragons attacking people before. Nor had Aunt Agnes ever mentioned it. She had never even seen one.

She rubbed her temple. “Give me a moment. I need to get dressed, gather my things, and relieve myself.”

John nodded. “I will be waiting right—”

Avice closed the door in his face, too tired to care about the rudeness.