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THE TEACHER LOOKS AT Everleigh, while Della leads the others away, closing the door behind her. Ceryn sits quietly on the bench, watching Archer for signs of life.
“You can stay if you are able to help. If your mind is calm enough. If not, go.”
Everleigh shakes her head. “I’ll help.”
“I think he’s done too much. It’s my fault. He was still recovering but he’s been fighting as though there’s nothing wrong with him. I need to open the wound, drain whatever’s in there making him ill. See if that helps.”
“What shall I do?”
“Put this jug of water on the fire, wait till it heats up. I need to clean this knife before cutting him open.” He dips a finger in the jug and tastes it. “Wait, this isn’t water, it’s...look we need water. Check the other jugs.”
Everleigh finds one with water and does as the teacher told her.
She holds Archer’s hand while the teacher gathers different lotions and potions from around Ginata’s work room. He’s muttering to himself but neither Everleigh or Ceryn interrupt him, just watch Archer and occasionally look at each other before looking away when too many tears fill their eyes.
The teacher dips the knife in the boiling water and then brings it to Archer’s side. He tucks material into Archer’s trousers and lays more on the floor under his wound. “This won’t be pretty,” he says, but neither girl looks away.
He tears into Archer’s flesh, opening the already painful looking wound, slicing through his skin with the knife.
The smell is disgusting, like the putrefying flesh of animals in the butchery. Green ooze, blood and yellow pus spill out, soaking the material. “Get more material, Everleigh. Push it under him.”
Everleigh nods and refuses to wince or flinch at the smell or the feel of the festering fluids on her skin.
The teacher’s frowning in concentration, pushing against Archer’s skin, draining as much fluid out as he can. “I don’t want to stitch him up again until all of this muck is out of his body.”
Everleigh keeps piling more strips of cloth under Archer, soaking everything up.
Eventually the teacher sits back, feels Archer’s forehead, touches his hand to his chest, nods.
“Will he live?”
“I think so. I need to stitch him up, give him some tonics. He won’t wake up tonight. He may in the morning. Help me get fluid in him.”
He chooses two bottles off Ginata’s shelf and opens them. “Lift his head, and gently pour these into his mouth. Get as much in as you can. I’ll fix Ceryn and then I’ll stitch him up.”
Everleigh does as she’s told, cradling Archer’s head, whispering to him. “Be fine, be fine, be fine.” She says it over and over and over and looks up when she realises that Ceryn is saying the same words at the same time.
Ceryn keeps her eyes on Archer as the teacher stitches her up. She refuses to cry out despite the sting of the needle. Once he’s done, she takes a place on the floor next to Everleigh, holding her free hand, the three of them linked in a circle.
“He may not recover. I have done my best, he’s a fighter and he’s survived worse than this. There is hope.”
Hope. It’s something Everleigh understands, something she can cling on to. When she was told that she would live she had hope; it’s a precious, special thing. She has hope that Archer will live.
She squeezes Ceryn’s hand and keeps her other hand on Archer’s chest, feeling the beat of life through his skin. Eventually they both drop uncomfortably to the floor and sleep.
The teacher informs the others of the situation and eventually they all sleep too. Della and Addyson share Ginata’s bed. The teacher takes one of the sofas and Will and Finn choose a chair each.
***
GINATA OPENS HER EYES and waits, to get accustomed to the gloom of the kitchen. Cook is snoring in the chair and the fire is crackling merrily away. She feels sick to her stomach but knows the steps she has to take.
Rescue Wolf, take provisions to Millard, leave this corner of the Realm.
She sits up, feeling the stiffness in her bones from laying on the floor for so long. She did a good job of pretending to faint and she almost wants to laugh at the person she’s become. Duplicitous, self-serving, dishonest, all the things she’s always despised in others.
It’s the hardest thing in the world to hate yourself. The internal battles are leaving her exhausted.
She slips out of the kitchen leaving the delicious warmth for the chilly pre-dawn bite of the courtyard. There’s no one to witness her, but she still moves quietly and carefully, her head down, hood up. She takes an axe from the stable and heads to the tower.
She knocks gently. “Wolf. It’s Ginata.”
There’s silence for a few beats then a gruff whisper. “You here to let me out?”
“Of course. I’ve got an axe. What do I do?”
“Aim for the side of the lock closest to the door frame but underneath. If you can hit it enough, and loosen the door I’ll be able to push out from my side.”
She knows she must be quick, because it will be loud. She braces her feet, swings the axe and hits the door, splintering the wood and making a louder thud than she’d thought.
Fear spurring her on, she hits the door three, four, five times in quick succession. “Move!” Wolf shouts.
She moves out of the way as he takes a run at the door. It shifts a fair bit and he does it again.
In three runs he has moved the door enough to make a gap wide enough for him to climb through. He grins at her. “Where is he? What’s next?”
“He’s at my cottage. I need to go to his rooms, get clean clothes, weapons.”
“Brilliant. You know I might have underestimated you.”
High praise indeed, she smiles and follows him over to the castle door. This is the scariest bit. She cannot back out of helping Wolf now, or he’d have questions she doesn’t want to answer, but if anyone sees her with him, then she will have no plausible excuse.
They don’t hang around, they run quickly to Millard’s rooms. She finds clothes and shoes, a cloak, while Wolf gets weapons from the chest at the end of his bed.
“I need to go to my room, just quickly.”
“You can’t. We don’t have time.”
“But there are things I need. If I’m going to stay with you.”
“You can get them all when Millard’s back on the throne.”
“But-”
“No buts. Let’s go.”