Page 85 of Obsidian Throne
Karina, the youngest of the village women, busied herself with bringing the men water, and I instructed the others on how to clean a wound to prevent infection. One of the healers even took to teaching them.
It was well past midnight when I dragged myself back to my and Evander’s tent after seeing the women were comfortable in theirs.
He looked up from the parchment he was examining, taking in my blood-spattered gown.
“We need to get you an apron, Lemmikki,” he said.
I huffed out a low, humorless chuckle, stripping off my dress and going to a barrel of water in the corner of our tent. Using the clean cloths set to the side, I scrubbed at my hands, my face, my chest, everywhere my dress hadn’t been covering.
At least it was warm in here, a small fire burning in the middle of the tent with the smoke escaping through a hole in the top. There were far too many wounded for the healer’s tent, so I had spent most of my day in the elements trying to keep the men warm as well as alive.
Still, the water itself was freezing, doing nothing to thaw my frozen skin.
“What you did today...” Evander began.
I turned slowly, wondering if he was about to chastise me.
“The healers say you reduced the casualties by more than half.” Pride shone from his gaze, and a small, exhausted smile crept onto my lips.
“Some of the men were dying from ridiculous, preventable things.” I shook my head. “There just weren’t enough hands, and I knew there were no able-bodied youngmento be spared, so it was the next logical choice. The only option, really.”
“How did you convince the women to come?” he asked curiously as I dried myself off with a fresh cloth.
“Oh, I just told them we had the finest knitting needles in all of Socair, and a big strong husband at the end, to boot.” I gave him a tired smirk. “And they gleefully came skipping after me.”
He let out a low chuckle, putting his arms around me and pulling me down onto the pallet next to him.Warm.He was so warm.
“Did you tell them the only thing you knew how to do with those knitting needles was stab someone?” he asked casually.
“That felt like unnecessary information to share.” I stifled a yawn before adding more seriously, “I need to organize everyone into shifts.”
“That would be wise,” he agreed, kissing me on the forehead. “But it can wait until tomorrow. You look exhausted, Lemmikki. For now, rest.”
I nestled further into him, putting my icy toes on his warm calves, which he valiantly did not complain about.
“Only if you rest, too,” I countered, knowing he was likely to stay up half the night going over and over strategies in his head.
It was an empty threat, though, because I was asleep before my head even fell against his chest.
* * *
The days continued to pass in a haze of blood and injuries and death.
I had seen men die before, in battle and otherwise, but nothing on this scale. Every day, we pushed the line a little further back, but every day, it came at significant cost.
More women arrived to help as word spread, and I wanted to feel happy about that, but I mostly just felt exhausted from the constant slew of injuries that necessitated their presence.
When I wasn’t with the wounded men, I was in the war tent, listening to reports with Evander. He rode back and forth to the battlefront, alternating between seeing things for himself and getting the information secondhand.
Everything was going as planned, he said, but wars took time.
And death.
So much death.
I couldn’t imagine how my Aunt Isla had done this day after day while she was pregnant with twins. The never-ending smell of infection and blood made my head swim and my stomach churn, even when I was decidedlynotwith child.
It was well into the early hours of the morning when the head healer, Aapo, forced me to leave and get some rest. A bone-deep exhaustion gnawed at me, each step weighed down with lead as I dragged myself into our tent.