“She’s well healed,” Letti assured me. “Excuse me, Lady Lombard.” She waited for my mother to clear the doorway, then loosely knotted Rowan’s reins over a post on the side of the cabin. “She’s strong enough to carry you both. Just mind your speed, please. Carrying the weight of two will put quite the strain on her. But she’s the only one I trust for the task.”
While my mother watched, Letti and I helped Biko from the chair. To my surprise, my mother rushed into the cabin, grabbed a chair, and carried it outside. She set it beside Rowan and then nodded at me. Then, without another word, she gathered Biko’s shredded, bloody clothes from the path and carried them toward the manor. While my mother walked away, Letti helped Biko step onto the chair and throw his leg astride the mare.
“This was a good idea,” she said, crediting Lady Lombard. I had no such gratitude toward my mother, but I hadn’t considered how much strength would be required of him simply to climb onto the horse.
“Go quickly,” Letti urged. “Even that small injury will spread the venom quickly.”
Biko tried to support his weight behind me on the horse, but his breaths were hot against my hair, his head sagging forward so far he was nearly resting on my shoulder.
“Brother, tell me where to go,” I pleaded. “We’ll get you help.”
“Syn,” he slurred, the word spilling past his parted lips. “Get me to Syndrian.”
ChapterEleven
“To the cutlery?” I asked, taking hold of the reins.
Biko’s body was hot behind me, and I felt the slight shake of his head. “Go… I’ll show you.”
He grunted instructions, leading me from the Lombard manor to a cabin not far from Serlo’s Cutlery in the village. I realized as soon as we left the estate that I’d forgotten to grab a torch in my haste. Thankfully, the road to the village and the village itself were well lit. As soon as we drew close to the surprisingly large cottage, I turned and held Biko’s face in my hands. “Stay awake,” I begged. “Keep your eyes open. We’re getting you help!”
Biko groaned but nodded, swaying as I climbed from Rowan’s back and raced to the cottage. I pounded hard on the door, calling Syndrian’s name. His father yanked the door open, a snarl on his face.
“You,” he spat. “You trouble my shop, and now my home?” He looked like he was about to slam the door on me when Flynn rushed to intervene. He took one look at me and started shouting for his brother.
Syndrian stumbled from a room at the back of the cottage, tightening a drawstring at the waist of his pants, a tunic in his hands. His chest was bare, and his hair was loose. I’d never seen him this way before, and if my heart hadn’t been racing with fear over what was happening to Biko, I might have passed out at the sight. His body was nothing short of sinful—sculpted muscle and smooth skin. I tried not to stare, meeting his eyes instead.
“Pali?” He looked at my bleeding knees and frantic expression and opened his arms, the shirt still in one hand. But there was no time to collapse against his bare chest. No time to accept the comfort he offered, no matter how tempting.
“Syndrian, please. We must get Biko to Odile. He’s badly hurt—vengersax attack…” The words tumbled from my lips, fear and desperation shaking every syllable.
Syndrian slipped the shirt over his shoulders and slid his feet into a pair of boots. “Flynn!” he called, tying his hair back with a length of leather. “Ready the cart! I’ll need your help.”
Flynn put on a pair of shoes and pushed past me with a somber greeting. “Evening, Lady Pali, hello, hi. Good evening. By the gods… This is… Oh gods, we need haste. I see that. I seehim… I’m rushing. We’ll get you there.”
Syndrian’s father hadn’t moved. He just stood with his arms crossed, watching as his sons jumped to swift action.
“Go to bed,” Syndrian said. “Flynn and I’ll handle this.”
“Torches,” the older man gruffed. Then he called his wife to help. “Flynn is leaving again, my love. He’ll need the extra torches.”
Mrs. Serlo wandered into the room in a sleep chemise, with her head uncovered. She took one look at me and gasped. “Oh, by the gods! You should have told me we had company.”
Mr. Serlo smirked. “Were you not listening to the shouting voices? After thirty years of marriage, I know you prefer to ignore me, but our sons have been bellowing their voices raw.”
She walked up to her husband and swatted his arm. “You oaf,” she said. “I’m not respectable in front of the girl!”
“She’s not just a girl—she’s alady,” Mr. Serlo added, seeming to enjoy teasing his wife into a state of frenzied discomfort.
“Ack!” Mrs. Serlo ran back to her room and returned wearing a simple kirtle and cap. “Mr. Serlo, you’ll keep your foolishness to yourself. Now, how can I help with these torches?”
I watched the affection between Syndrian’s parents and was again strangely curious about the tension between father and son. But there would be time enough to investigate that once Biko was well.
Flynn arrived outside cabin driving the same cart I’d seen him drive for Odile. The two horses attached to the front snorted, ready to ride. The teen accepted the torches from his parents and then they helped him light those that were permanently built onto the cart. Syndrian immediately set to helping Biko down from Rowan and practically carried him into the back of the cart.
“I want to ride with him,” I begged.
I realized this was most definitely the very same cart I’d ridden in the night my guide took me to the goblin lair. I shuddered at the memory. While it all now made sense, I was hoping for a far better outcome after this ride than the last time I was in it.