Songbird

Chapter Twenty-Five - Aftermath

The pitch-dark sky was fading to cobalt by the time the exhausted travelers reached the Thomas' farm, and Wren's eyes fluttered open as the cart bounced over a bump in the road. She pinched herself, lowering her head to Kal's chest—she could barely hear his shallow breathing. Her hands were still splotched with his blood. She pressed them to his wounds, wishing with all her being that her magic would help him somehow.

Please stop bleeding...stop bleeding...stop, stop, stop, stop...!

The children were asleep around her, along with Aziz, and she took some comfort from that, at least. Briar wouldn't touch them again. A chill shivered down her spine at the memory of the noblewoman's twisted body lying on the altar.

"You're awake." Edric had taken over the reins, while Hamid sat beside him. "We're almost home."

Everyone was waiting as they filed into the house. Wren trailed behind Edric as he carried Kal through the door, her heart aching at the way Amelia's hand went to her mouth at the sight of her son's condition. But just as quickly she sprang into action.

"Boys, draw some water from the well," she told her younger sons. "Until I tell you to stop. Hannah, fetch your father's suture kit. And Allie, start grinding some echinacea."

Their father nodded reassurance at them. "Don't you worry, now," he said. "Kal's going to be just fine."

The children clustered around Wren as Amelia greeted them.

"My goodness!" she said. "So many guests! You must be hungry—would you like something to eat?"

There were nods and murmurs of assent, and Hamid and Aziz led them to the kitchen.

"We'll help you fix something up," the sailor said.

Amelia smiled thanks at him while Wren wavered in the sitting room. Dread sat like a stone in her stomach, a dream-like haze blurring her vision and dulling her hearing. She couldn't stop her hands from shaking.

"Kal, he's—he's—"

Amelia took her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Breathe, honey. Deep breaths, that's it...Kal's going to be just fine."

She stumbled back a half step when Wren embraced her, stroking the girl's hair.

"Shh...you're alright now...you're alright." She brushed some of the soot from Wren's cheek as they stepped back. "What do you say we draw a nice warm bath for you?"

Wren nodded, wiping at her eyes, unable to form words.

"Alright, this way, now..."

After her bath, she sat at Kal's bedside. His father had tended to him, and his body and wounds were now clean, wrapped in bandages. Wren held his hand as he slept, stroking her thumb back and forth over his knuckles. He looked younger when he was asleep, and so peaceful. Wren wiped away the tear that fell onto his cheek as a sob welled up in her chest—there was only one way to keep him from getting hurt.

She didn't remember falling asleep. He was playing with her hair when she woke, his gentle fingers brushing her cheek. Looking into his beautiful soft eyes, fresh tears threatened to well up in her own.

"You're awake...!"

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. "Hello, little bird. Is this heaven? Or a dream?"

She shook her head, lacing her fingers through his. "Neither. You're home."

"The children?"

"Safe," she said. "They're asleep in the sitting room."