Mermaid Tear (The Fated #2)

25 | Chilling Embroidery

Treating Del was a trial in many ways.

The initial, and most important, issue being that Iliana had next to no experience treating combat wounds. The deep gashes of a sword were vastly different than rope burn or the accidental cut of a fillet knife. Figuring out what wound was the most important to treat became difficult when his entire body seemed coated in blood and stained bandages.

The solution she soon reached was to grab a cloth from the face basin and begin wiping away what blood she could without removing the old bandages. The action felt invasive and strange. There was something unfamiliar about touching another person willingly, let alone in such an intimate manner.

And with each wipe of the cloth, smoothing over starved muscle and scarred skin, her heart hurt. That was the second trial.

He deserved none of this.

Her mind couldn't shake free the memory of his soft voice as he comforted her through hours of the dark. Del was a good man, and she wouldn't wish this place on her enemies.

Iliana stepped back to rinse off the cloth, before returning it to his frame. Her hand slipped up to his neck, smoothing over crusted blood that likely came from a bandage that ran tautly from his shoulder, down his torso, and back up his back. It was the first wound she unraveled. She cringed as the bandage caught where it had dried, which was a worryingly few places.

The reason was quickly obvious. A deep gash cut into his upper shoulder. It bit down to the collarbone, but somehow avoided going any further and chancing a vital artery. The wound was deep, and as Iliana reached for the salve her hands faltered.

Would something like that close on its own? She had vague memories of accidents on the Airlea, and of Saul griping as Artemios drew a needle through numbed skin. Deep wounds needed to be closed. What qualified as deep, Iliana had no idea. She was willing to hedge a bet, however, that if it hadn't scabbed over after this much time, it qualified for a needle and thread. Otherwise he could lose too much blood, or get sick. The realization was followed by an unsettling thought.

By all appearances, this was a bedroom intended for a noble lady. Could there be embroidery needles? It wasn't as if she could kill a demon with a needle and thread, and many noble ladies passed time with such a hobby.

The idea of drawing thread through Del's skin rolled Iliana's stomach, but if it was what saved him, she would have to get over herself. With that in mind, she dropped the cloth and moved to step away from the bed. Del's hand caught her wrist, and she froze, eyes dropping to his.

They were half-lidded, and clearly exhausted, but they were open.

"You're leaving?"

His light, yet questioning voice relieved some of the weight suffocating her chest. "I wanted to check something. I'm not leaving, just crossing the room."

His eyes studied her slowly, before his hand released her wrist. Del seemed to sink into the bed as he dropped his arm back at his side. "Oh."

She might've waited to explain, but wasting time seemed ill advised. So, she instead stepped across the room and began rifling through the unexplored drawers of the vanity until she found an embroidery set. Her heart leapt as she found a few odd needles among the bunch--likely left over from a tapestry kit. She grabbed two of the curved needles and settled the rest of the box atop the vanity.

Once she was back at Del's side, Iliana started threading the needle, then hesitated. Infection was a major concern, and there was no way the needle was clean.

"The salve," Del muttered, seeming to read her expression.

Right. That would have to do. Iliana stuck a finger in the metal tin and rubbed the salve over the needle. Then, after a second of thought, she took what was left on her fingers and reached for his wound.