Painted Blade || sihtric

29.

   "HOW yer feelin'?" Ebbe questioned, walking up to Bemia who was sitting outside at a table at Aethelflaed's estate a day later.

Bemia was still in pain, but it wasn't as bad as yesterday after the battle. The only thing that mainly pained was her heart every time she checked on Osferth. Thankfully, the boy had survived the night, but Bemia barely slept considering she was awake most of the night, literally watching him sleep. She was terrified that if she fell asleep, then she would wake up and he would be gone.

Sihtric had tried many times to get her to sleep, but nothing would work so he sat with her all night, taking care of her and her wounds. The gash on her forehead had been cleaned and now had a bandage she hated around it, so she wore the hood of her cloak up whenever she was walking around. The deep cut on her shoulder had been closed up by Uhtred pressing a hot dagger to her skin and that was a shit show. She nearly broke Finan's jaw with her elbow when she started thrashing. And then when they did the same for the cut on the back of her thigh, she accidentally kicked Sihtric in his balls. Yeah, he learned a lesson last night: don't stand in front of my wife when her wounds are getting healed.

"Tired," Bemia admitted, looking over at him as he sat down with a cup of ale. "How are you feeling?"

Ebbe shrugged his shoulders, picking up a handful of snow off the table before throwing it over his shoulder out of boredom. "Well, I didn't throw myself over a body, so I would say pretty well."

"You heard about that?" She huffed a tired laugh, looking down at her calloused hands as he nodded, sipping his ale. "Is that why you've found me? To lecture me?"

"I thought about it," he admitted with a small chuckle at her rolled eyes. "But I know you, Bemia." His voice turned serious as he gently held her hand. "I still remember the day I found you in your room, bleeding on the floor." He squeezed her hand as a vacant gaze filled her eyes at the memory. "I still remember the way you wept, not for your wounds but because you lost the child we were all excited for—you the most. I still remember you begging the Gods to bless you with another child while you were blacking—"

"I can't—" Bemia's own voice faltered, and she cleared her throat, blinking away the tears of grief in her eyes. "Please, Ebbe, don't remind me of that night. I haven't even told anyone the full story because it is far too painful to remember."

Ebbe softly swore under his breath. "I apologize, Bemia," he truthfully said, squeezing her hand as she looked up at him with a forgiving nod. "What I was trying to say is that from the stories you've already told me, I know that that baby monk isn't your son by blood but by love...and because of that, I know you would give up your life for your child—you nearly have once already."

"And I'll continue to put that boy's life before my own," she said without hesitation, squeezing his hand back. "I would give up my life for his and Sihtric's, without a second thought or doubt."

"I know." Ebbe nodded with a proud smile, letting go of her hand as he stood up. "That is why I respect you, Bemia. Your kindness and need to protect those who can't protect themselves was why I gave you my sword all those years ago."

   OSFERTH'S dried blood was still under Bemia's fingernails as she stared at her hands, sitting in the hall at a table across from her husband with Finan at the head of the table between them. Since the moment the prisoners were brought into the hall for dinner, the three of them had been pissed off and snappy.

When the doors to the hall opened and Uhtred entered, Bemia sent her husband a warning look. The last thing she needed was him getting snappy with her brother.

"How's Osferth?" Uhtred asked, pulling his gloves off as he sat down next to Sihtric.

"I fed him some food and cleaned his wounds before he went to sleep," Bemia quietly informed him with a tired sigh. "We should all be sleeping."