Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

8. Stitches

Chapter 8

Stitches

THALIA

A knock sent my heart racing as I shifted in bed, my hands reaching for the nearest item I could find.

“Thalia?”

Snatching the book from beside my bed, I held it tightly as Gwen’s frame appeared from around the door, a metal tray shaking gently in her hands. “Hungry?”

I lowered the book, my head shaking. “I don’t want anything from you people,” I said, my back curling against the headboard. It still stung from yesterday. A few stitches had most likely reopened.

Gwen took another step.

I raised the book slightly, my eyes watching every movement.

“A book?” She rolled her eyes. “Stop being stubborn and eat,” she muttered, setting the tray before me.

Cinnamon porridge and red berries sat in the middle with a cup of amber liquid at the top. Sniffing, I glanced between her and the tray, my fingers grabbing the cup gently before smelling it again, testing for any ailments that would render me useless.

“Eat girl. It would be useless to kill you after I spent so long tending to your wounds.” She pointed to the cup. “Drink it,” she said before walking over to the desk in the corner. She pulled out a small kit.

I reluctantly took a sip. It burned slightly, hints of sugar and orange lingering in my mouth.

Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, a sewing needle resting between her thumb and pointer finger. Thread and fresh linen rested on the green cotton dress she had chosen to wear today in heir of summer. “Drink the rest of the liquid. It’s a tonic to stave off infection, and increase the healing process. Now, turn around so I can sew your reopened wounds from yesterday.”

Frowning, I angled my back to her as she unwrapped the fabric, bits of red staining the white linen.

“Thalia?”

“What?” I ground out, my fingers running over the smooth edge of the tray.

A sigh left her lips. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.”

A hiss escaped my lips at the pinching sensation under my shoulder blade, the skin tight. “Why? Aren’t you in on this too?” I waved my hand around the room. “Aren’t you keeping me here prisoner under his orders?”

“Under his orders?” She laughed, the sound surprisingly light and hearty as her bony fingers dug into my shoulder. “He doesn’t get to tell me anything, nor does he get to act like he did yesterday throwing that on you.” Her thumb jerked to the window. “He will be busy working around the cabin and won’t bother you until you want to talk to him. You’re my guest, and as my guest, your job is to eat and rest. To build strength that horrid place stole from you.”

“But I?—”

“What you thought doesn’t matter,” she said as the pinching sensation traveled to the middle of my back. “As long as you are under my roof, he won’t bother you. Trust me.”

I winced as the needle punctured a sensitive welt, her hands holding me steady.

“I’m sure you aren’t open to it now, but this place is safe. I’ll listen if you ever wish to relinquish what happened in those dark catacombs,” Gwen said softly before tossing the red needle onto the table.

Unraveling a roll of linen, she wrapped it around the freshly stitched wounds.

A light hum left her lips. “Your injuries are healing better, but you must drink the tonics I give you to continue to stave off the infection.” She pointed to the amber liquid.

“Infection?” I asked, her words punching me in the gut as I took another sip of the tangy mixture.

The corners of her lips tugged in a frown as she angled her head to look at me. “I worked through the night to remove the infected flesh and reduce your fever. You’re lucky Ivan brought you straight here, because you wouldn’t have made it through another night,” she said as she finished wrapping the bandage with a tug.

“Why?” The question bubbled from my mouth. I wasn’t worth saving.

Gwen grabbed my hands as she patted them gently. “Old habits are hard to quit when you’ve been a medic for so long. Besides, a young woman like yourself has years of life left to offer, especially since so many were stolen by another.”

This woman, aged from experience and hardships, chose to save me.

“I see myself in you. You have fire shining in your eyes. Don’t ever lose that quality, that vibrancy for life and freedom.”

“How—”

Gwen chuckled softly. “You tend to notice these things once you grow old. I’ve had over seventy years to practice.”

I stared at her aged face, bits of wisdom and knowledge etched deep into the wrinkles and creases. She looked back at me, her eyes softening the same way my father’s did when I’d flung into his arms after my beloved cat had died.

I didn’t want to believe this stranger’s kindness. There were more broken pieces than she could fix, and if she knew the truth, she’d leave me too.

People tended to abandon cursed objects.

“I still don’t know you,” I finally said. “I’m… grateful for the tonics and stitches, but I’m still stuck here.”

“Why would you be stuck here?”

I stared out the four-panel window as I watched the breeze dance through the trees.

“That—” Gwen rubbed her temples. “I don’t care what impression he made yesterday, but you aren’t trapped. You are welcome to leave after you rest.”

My eyes floated to hers. “You really don’t know what’s going on. Do you?”

Gwen laughed, her eyes crinkling. “That boy hasn’t told me a singular plan in a decade. I never know what he thinks besides the tiny amounts of information he gives me.” Her thumb and pointer finger pressed against the bridge of her nose. “The only thing he told me revolved around rescuing someone who’d been trapped unfairly.”

“Trapped unfairly?”

Gwen shrugged as her shoulders slumped forward. “He said it was vital to Cethales you were saved… that you were born special. I have no clue what it means, but I’m sure if you ask him, he will tell you.”

Vital to Cethales? How was rescuing me vital to Cethales?

Gwen placed a hand on my knee. “Dwelling on things we don’t know will only lead to rabbit holes of fear.” She gave my knee a quick squeeze. “I’m sure he’ll tell you everything if you ask.”

She must be delusional if she thought he was going to tell me anything. Clearing my throat, I glanced at her face. Kindness shone back at me as I asked the question clinging to my heart— “Am I really safe here? The guards… won’t find me?”

It was such a stupid question, but I couldn’t help but ask. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Gwen shook her head, gray hair falling over her eyes. “Of course,” she answered, her hand patting my leg. “Focus on healing. I’m sorry if yesterdays’ impression was less than pleasant, but you are safe. The mist protects these woods from outsiders.”

She patted my leg once more before standing, her knees wobbling. “If you are up to it, you can come downstairs once you heal. I could use an extra hand in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine here.”

“Suit yourself, but if you get hungry, there’s plenty of food and drinks in the kitchen. I won’t withhold anything from you.”

“Thank you,” I answered truthfully.

Her eyes narrowed as she paused under the door frame. “Now drink the tonic and eat. I expect it gone by the next time I check on you.”

Without waiting for a reply, she slipped out, the wooden door closing.

An exhale left my lips as I sat the tray onto my lap.

Spooning the porridge, the sickly sweet texture melted on my tongue as I popped berry after berry into my mouth. I couldn’t help but mull over her words. It didn’t make sense. If Ivan knew my secret, how come he had not told Gwen? Did something prevent him from doing so, and what about him rescuing me made it vital to Cethales ?

Cethales was cursed because the original four kings struck down a Fae god, taking their casting as their own. In return, the Fae gods cursed Cethales, turning the land to sand and removing immortality from all Fae, even the majority with no casting. Why would I ever be of importance to a dying land—a land the Fae gods abandoned, taking all remaining casting with them?

Shaking my head, I tossed back the remaining tonic. A slight buzz lingered in my mouth as it coated me in a layer of warmth that seeped into my bones.

Scraping the last few morsels of porridge, I set the tray on the table. At least the food was pleasant here. Not even my father cooked dishes this tasty.

A smile crossed my lips as I remembered his last disaster: the chicken set ablaze over the roaring flames he’d crafted inside the house as he’d frantically tried to take out the charred meat from within. The flames scorched the ceiling and drapes as he flung it out the window into the basin we’d used for the pigs.

I remembered his laughter as mother walked inside, her stunning drapes a thing of ash in the basin. She’d hit father with a pair of oven mitts, her laughter eventually mixing in with his.

They had been content, if for a short time.

Those memories had quickly cracked and crumbled as mother and father drifted apart. Father spent most of his days traveling, leaving me alone with my mother and sister, Yeva.

Ruffling my hair, I flung the quilted sheets over my head, covering myself in darkness. A memory from my mother resurfaced as I tossed and turned beneath the heavy fabric?—

Daughter, light and dark have always intertwined themselves with Cethales. If one becomes separate from the other, the world will cleave in half.