Liam could hardly believe they had finally reached the capital. He was so worn down and beaten, he was beginning to believe he could die on the spot. His face throbbed from where the man in the crowd had hit him, but it was a welcome distraction from the pain everywhere else. Godfrey had been sent ahead to alert the guards of their presence. No doubt, he would have stopped the man much sooner than the rest of them had. Liam doubted they would have if he wasn’t expected. Several sentries and Godfrey were waiting in the courtyard for them.
“We bring the traitor,” Oliphant announced to the guards.
Liam fell forward when Telcrum and Windsor let go of his arms, his face connecting with the hard stone. He let out a groan, happy to no longer be forced to stand. He laid his cheek back on the cobblestones, relishing in the coldness they held. It helped ease the pain. He wished he had not survived the journey as his adrenaline wore off and his whole body throbbed in excruciating pain. He could feel each heartbeat in every part of his body. He groaned again and tried to move, but it was too painful.
“What the hell happened to him?” Godfrey knelt next to Liam.
“Your…care of the traitor will be duly noted,” one of the sentries said. “You may return to the barracks and await your orders there.”
The soldiers bowed to the sentry and left Liam in their care.
“Pick the traitor up and take him to his cell,” the sentry commanded his men. “And send for a healer immediately.”
Liam felt himself raised to his feet, and he groaned in protest. He was taken down to the dungeons. Liam wearily looked around the prison. The palace dungeons had reportedly been well-kept and clean, and while they did not smell of human waste as he expected them to, they were not nearly as orderly as advertised.
The dungeon guards guided him until he saw no more prisoners in the cells. He had been placed in a more secluded area of the dungeon to keep him from interacting with his fellow prisoners and inciting a rebellion. Liam looked around his cell and found a cot for him to sleep on and blankets to keep him warm. For the crime he was accused of, Liam was amazed he was given any such amenities.
The dungeon’s smell of wet dirt invaded his senses every time he breathed. It was almost suffocating to be assaulted at every turn with the overwhelming dankness of it. The guards placed him on his cot. Liam let out a groan as his back burned under the weight of him. It was barely longer than he was. He dreaded the time that he would have to spend in the tiny space, but at least it was his alone. On the way to his permanent residence, Liam had seen many of the cells shared with up to four men at a time.
“Sweet Lord.”
Liam barely turned his head to see the red robes the palace healers wore. He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. “Leave me alone.”
“I cannot. My vows wouldn’t allow it, and neither would the king’s justice,” the healer said.
Liam tried to ignore the healer but let out a sharp cry when the healer lifted his shirt. It was in tatters, but the strips were stuck to his skin. “Just leave it, Healer.”
“Woolsey,” he said. “Healer Woolsey.” He cut away what he could of the shirt.
That name was familiar—he was the healer Liam had helped with an amputation. That felt like a lifetime ago now, in an old life that didn’t belong to him anymore. Liam let out a sigh when cold cloths rested on his back.
“I’m going to have to debrid it, and it’s not going to be pleasant. You’ve pus and dirt all over your back.”
Liam sighed again. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”
“No.”
Sighing again, Liam said, “Go on, then. There’s a wound on the front too.”
Woolsey rolled him onto his side and removed his shirt from the front as well. He tugged on the fabric gently, but it didn’t move from the wound.
Liam saw the struggle on Woolsey’s face before he ripped it off. He let out a shout, clenching his teeth. “You could have given me warning.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s only so long you can be on your side before your back will begin to hurt, and this will be faster. He wiped the wound quickly with several cloths before putting a salve and a bandage on. Woosley gently lowered Liam back onto his stomach. “You’re lucky that one was hardly pussy.”
“It bled quite a lot on the trip.”
“The flow of blood likely kept out the dirt.”
How lucky for Liam.
“What happened to you?” Woolsey asked.
Liam tensed and gritted his teeth as the healer began wiping his back clean. “I was—” he gasped when a tender spot was lanced “—beaten for not keeping up with the horses.”
“You were on foot?” Healer Woolsey demanded. “Has anyone checked your feet yet?”
“You’re the first to see me, so no.”
Liam felt his remaining boot tugged off and heard retching come from the healer. He could smell the foul stench as well and couldn’t blame Woolsey for his reaction.
Woolsey stepped around to the bars of the cell and barked at the guard, “Get me hot water, more bandages, and the case of salves on my workbench.”
“I can’t leave you alone with the traitor,” the guard said.
“What do you think will happen?” Woolsey demanded. “If he tries to stand, he’ll likely faint, or I could simply hit him in the back to stop him.”
Liam snorted. Was that what he was reduced to? An invalid who would faint if he was hit in the back or stood? The healer might as well put them both out of their misery and give him too much milk of the poppy, lulling him into a sleep from which he would never wake. Or just give him some in general. “Will you not give me something for the pain?”
“I’m afraid we aren’t allowed to give the prisoners any milk of the poppy for pain,” Healer Woolsey said. “If you’re lucky, you’ll lose consciousness before we get too far into the process.”
If only. If Liam hadn’t fainted during his beatings, he doubted he would during the cleaning of his wounds. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I’m going to give your back a break and work on removing the dead skin from your feet. You don’t want it to become gangrenous,” Woolsey said. “I’m surprised they aren’t already. This is going to be several layers deep, and you won’t be able to stand until they’ve healed enough.”
“How am I to relieve myself if I can’t stand?” Liam asked. He doubted after the debriding of his back and feet he’d even want to try to stand.
“A servant of mine will be sent in throughout the night to check on you and help with your needs, and I’ll be here during the day to change your bandages and reapply any salves and poultices you may need,” Woolsey told him. “You’ll be sick of all the help you’ll get by the time you’ve healed, honestly.”
Liam tried not to cry out when Healer Woolsey scraped the skin from his feet, but he was unsuccessful on many occasions. The guard returned with a servant in tow and opened the cell. Liam wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or worried about his condition when the guard didn’t even bother closing the cell door. He let out a relieved sigh when a cool, creamy substance was rubbed on his feet before they were tightly bound.
“Now, back to your back, unless you need a break,” Woolsey said.
“No, just keep going. I want to be done.”
“You’re lucky to be alive, you know,” Healer Woolsey said, “an infection like this, left untreated, will kill you.”
“I know.”
When Woosley finished cleaning his back, he thickly applied a cold substance and said, “I will have to come daily to cleanse the wounds and reapply the poultice. Several times a day, actually. I don’t want you to get a blood infection.”
Liam remained silent, turning his face away from the healer.
“You’ll also need to have daily draughts to help restore you to your full strength.”
“What would be the point?” Liam asked acerbically, turning his head to look at the healer directly for the first time. “I’m going to be put to death as soon as I have a trial.”
“You are currently in my care, and I say that it’s important,” Healer Woolsey told Liam firmly. “I want to see you healthy.”
“Just let me die, Healer. Don’t waste your time.”
“I said no. You are my patient, traitor or not, and I will not disgrace myself by letting you die out of convenience,” Healer Woolsey snapped. “Now be quiet, and take your treatment.”
Liam sighed and turned away from the man.
Liam was sitting against the craggy wall of his cell, his eyes closed, when Healer Woolsey came to his lodgings.
“I see you’re feeling better today,” he said happily. “At least, well enough to be sitting up.”
“Your poultices and draughts are working, Healer Woolsey,” Liam informed him. “Despite my wishing that they wouldn’t.”
“I should hope so,” he boasted, “herbal remedies are my speciality.”
Liam let a hint of a smile show on his face. “What do you have in store for me today, Healer?”
“The same as always,” Woolsey answered, handing Liam his draught.
Liam grimaced as he smelled the familiar potion, choking it down. He sputtered, putting the back of his hand to his mouth. The draught always made him feel like retching after he shot down the liquid, even after a month of drinking the same tonics day in and day out.
“Go ahead and lie on your stomach,” the healer instructed.
Liam complied, pulling off his shirt before he rested facedown on his cot. He felt Woolsey peel the now dried paste off his back. He let out a hiss when Woolsey peeled away bits of the healing skin.
“It seems you’ll have minimal scarring.”
“How wonderful that my chances of staying attractive are high,” Liam quipped. “How will I ever fight off all the women?”
Healer Woolsey chuckled, laying down the fresh paste. “Same as before, wait to put on your shirt until it dries.”
“Understood.”
“Tomorrow will be my last visit,” Healer Woolsey informed Liam. “You are doing well enough that you don’t need me anymore.”
“Thank you, Woolsey, for everything.” Liam earnestly thanked him. Despite all his protests, Liam truly did appreciate all of the healer’s efforts.
Healer Woolsey nodded to him before he left.