Page 82 of Hollow Court

“Trust me,” I said. “It helps.”

Without a word, he moved his hands long enough for me to apply the mixture. I wondered if perhaps I had imagined just how bad the wound was before. While there was still a deep gouge and an alarming amount of blood, it didn’t seem to be quite as severe as I had thought it was.

Small mercies.

We worked together applying the mixture, and eventually, the blood slowed enough for us to bandage her up.

Gallagher’s hands were in constant motion, flitting from one wound to the next as I applied medicine and he wrapped her in bandages.

When her eyes fluttered open, we let out a collective sigh of relief. Her fair skin was sallow, and she was lethargic, but she was awake.

And more importantly, alive.

He called for Ewan to transport her to a more comfortable location while we moved on to the next patient.

After that, we fell into a steady rhythm, bandaging, cleaning, medicating, and healing one patient after the next as Davin and the other healer did the same on the opposite end of the room.

Hours passed, or days? I wasn’t sure which.

Everything was a blur of cutting more cloth for bandages, grinding down the herbs I’d found in the garden outside to make more medicine, and doing whatever else Maisey, her father, and Gallagher needed to help the villagers.

When Davin wasn’t helping with the injured, he was reassuring the villagers, checking in with the soldiers, and sending updates to his parents, who had stayed at the castle to take care of the courtiers.

The man never stopped.

By the time it was said and done, fifteen people had come to us injured from the explosions. Three had died before they could be brought here, and we lost two more after they arrived.

It was a miracle that there weren’t more, or, more accurately, a mark of Gallagher’s extreme skill. He had managed not to lose a single person once he started treating them, discovering and evaluating injuries faster than I would have thought possible.

Things were finally coming to a lull when the chime of the bell above the door rang.

In walked a tall, lean man with sandy blond hair, large brown eyes, and pale, aristocratic features currently carved into a show of concern.

I would have known from Gallagher’s dark expression that the newcomer wasn’t welcome, even before he muttered irritably under his breath.

“Fancy seeing you here, Laird Tavish.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Davin

Tavish surveyed the room,his eyes lingering on Galina for long enough to make me clench my jaw.

Even after hours of rushing around the crowded infirmary and tending to the wounded, she was striking. The single strand of hair that fell from her braids only framed her delicate features, and her cheeks were flushed with exertion.

She was gorgeous, in an obvious way. So, of course, people looked at her, but there was something more sinister than simple ogling in his gaze. A speculative gleam I didn’t like.

“Cousin,” I called, forcibly pulling his attention from her. “Is there something we can do for you?”

“I believe that’s my line. I rushed from Dewmire as soon as I heard,” he said loudly enough for every villager in the room to hear.

The hell he had rushed anywhere.

I took in the pristine cut of his jacket and pants, pressed to perfection. His countenance was calm and lackluster, and not a single thinning hair on his head was out of place.

Not to mention, Dewmire Keep was several hours’ ride away. He wasn’t remotely disheveled or out of breath in the way that someone who had been frantically riding a horse would be.

“I wasn’t aware you had any particular skill with healing,” I said amicably, setting aside a tray of blood-soaked bandages.