Chapter 142: Wounded
Something just didn’t feel right...
Her gaze became blurry, her ears were ringing.
Part of her liked to think that it was all just side effects of the poison.
But shouldn’t the side effects have ceased by now?
Claire slumped against the chair.
The sound of aggressive war cries and clanging swords filled the air.
Even the sounds of nature were swamped by the noise.
The carriage door was suddenly ripped open and a large Lycan with red eyes and long claws stood there with drool dripping out the side of its mouth.
It was it - the same one that came after her in the woods.
Or was it?
Before it could lunge for her in its blood lust, Yeren seized its arm and brought its head against the metal beam at the doorway.
It grunted loudly and lunged again.
Claire shrunk further inside, hiding behind him.
The Lycan’s claws dug into Yeren’s coat, ripping through the fabric and skin in one gory stroke.
Claire gasped, covering her mouth to stifle the sound.
But inside of weakening him, the strike only enraged him.
Yeren seized the other large beast by the neck and squeezed, his own hands elongating as the claws grew out and sunk into the Rogue’s skin.
Blood dripped down the length of his hands onto the carriage floor.
Then he threw the dead beast on the ground.
Andon rushed over with the burly guard that never uttered a word. Marius, was it?
"Your Grace!" The worry on Andon’s face couldn’t be mistaken.
Yeren hid his injured arm behind his back and nodded, stepping aside so that they could also see that she was well.
"Miss Stenly." He breathed in relief.
The guard nodded, not bothering to remove his helmet.
"Where did they come from?" Yeren asked.
From behind him, Claire saw him clenching and unclenching the fists of his injured arm.
Was he in pain?
Didn’t Lycan’s not heal their wounds immediately?
"I have reason to believe they were lying in wait, Your Grace. They all just appeared out of nowhere, wearing scent concealers."
Claire put two and two together and came to the conclusion that someone - whoever it was - didn’t want them to get to the Town square today.
Or at all.
Something unspoken passed between the men and they all nodded.
Yeren sank back into the chair and leaned his head against the cushion.
After peering in one more time, the guard jammed the door closed and left with Andon.
"You’re bleeding." Claire couldn’t keep the worry out of her voice completely.
He glanced at his arm lazily before returning his gaze back to the ceiling of the moving box.
"I’m fine. It’s just a scratch... nothing serious."
She scoffed.
"Then why are you still bleeding? Let me have a look at it."
She reached for his arm but he withdrew it from her grasp.
"I never imagined that you would be worried about me, Miss Stenly."
She groaned, as if she were the one in pain.
"Why do you always have to be so conceited all the time?"
A slow smile cracked his lips.
"Let me have a look." She said again, more firmly this time.
When she reached for him, he didn’t pull away.
Claire examined the gash in the sleeve, but couldn’t see much.
"You have to take off your coat." She gulped before adding, "And your shirt."
He smirked, his eyes looking dazed. "There are much more attractive ways of asking me to take off my clothes."
She coloured at his words for the hundredth time.
Despite his calm demeanor, beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. And the muscles in his neck looked taut.
"Your Grace." She shook him a little.
He didn’t respond. His eyelids dropped closed.
"Your Grace!" The panic she had been struggling to conceal finally surfaced without restraint.
"I can hear you, Miss Stenly. What is it?"
She touched his forehead - he appeared normal, which meant he wasn’t suffering from a fever.
But it was much too early to tell.
Without waiting any longer for his consent, she stood to her feet in the crowded space, ensured the curtains were closed and began to remove his clothing.
When she touched his coat, his hand shot out to grab hers.
"What do you think you are doing? This constitutes rape." There was laughter in his voice.
"Rape?" She repeated, sheepishly smiling despite the accusation.
She pulled the coat off his shoulders and down his arms.
Blood had soaked up the arm of his shirt, further obscuring the injury.
When she reached for the strings of his shirt, he let her.
Claire didn’t even bother about the propriety of their situation - which surprised her.
All she cared about was ensuring that he was alright. It transported her back to the night when she carried Arlan through the woods in search of help.
She loosened the strings and pushed the shirt open, exposing his chest to her gaze. For a moment, her hands froze, her breath caught.
His eyes popped open, slightly.
"You can touch it. It would make me feel a lot better."
Her gaze snapped up to his face and she noticed how devoid of colour it was.
What was wrong?
Blood dripped on his chest... from her nose?
Claire quickly wiped it away and pulled the shirt off his arms.
The wound took her breath away.
There were four claw marks running from the back of his wrist to the front of his arm, just before his elbow. The arm was covered in blood, but on closer inspection, the skin beneath looked blue.
Her heart started thumping faster.
She looked around.
There was nothing she could use to clean his wound.
Absolutely nothing.
Without wasting another thought, she began banging on the wall of the carriage.
"Stop the carriage! Stop! Please..." Her voice broke with a sob.
His chest rose slowly with each breath. Too slowly for a man his size.
The carriage rolled to a stop and the rider threw the door open.
Hesitant to leave him alone, she said in her calmest voice, "Fetch Andon. Tell him to make haste."
Within minutes, Andon stood at the door, his hair wild from running in the wind.
He took in Yeren’s disheveled state and her expression with wide eyes.
Then he shoved the carriage rider aside and climbed inside.
"What happened to him?"
His eyes spotted the gash on his arm.
"Blast the Heavens-"
A tear slipped out of her eyes as she waited to catch her breath.
"I think he’s dying. He’s been poisoned somehow." The words tasted bitter, as if she just drank down a mixture of every bitter herb nature had to offer.