Brightly Woven

both hands against his wound, feeling the sticky warmth of his blood, not caring as it seeped into my dress.
    One of the young men pulled my hands away from North,tending to the wound. It was Pascal who forced me to my feet and took me in his arms, pressing my face against his chest so I wouldn’t have to see the deathly pallor that had spread over North’s face.
    “I’ll do what I can here,” the boy called, pulling open North’s shirt. “We have to get him back to Lady Aphra—he’ll be needing some of her elixirs.”
    I squeezed my eyes shut. My bags , I thought. Why did I leave my bags in the wagon?
    “Why isn’t he moving?” one of them asked. “Is he…?”
    “No!” Pascal cut in harshly.
    “I’m nearly finished.” The young man didn’t look up from where he was stitching North. “He’s lost a lot of blood. I’m not surprised he passed out from the pain.”
    Pascal told two of the young men, “Get the stretcher and tie it between our horses. We can take it slow and steady.”
    I watched them lift North as gently as they could onto the stretcher. It sagged beneath his weight, but the thin fabric didn’t rip. I helped Pascal with shaking hands as we tied the rope around him, hoping that was enough to keep him still and safe until we made it into Arcadia.

CHAPTER TEN

    W ith North swaying between them, the other horses couldn’t keep up with Pascal and me. We continued on the dirt path back up to Arcadia, the harsh wind kicking up loose snow from the valley above us and showering us in a coat of white. Closer now, I was finally able to make out the familiar, snow-laden roofs of Arcadia.
    “Aphra!” Pascal called. She was waiting for us in the center of the village, a look of horror on her face.
    “Get a bed ready,” he told her. “Wayland’s going to need it.”
    Lady Aphra guided me through the crowd and up the hill. “Come along,” she murmured, pulling me inside. I looked back, searching for any sign of the other horses. “Rest yourself a bit; you look halfway to death.” She went to work at once, pushing the table and chairs to the far end of the room. She went into her bedroom to retrieve the blankets North and Ihad slept on for the past few days, and I watched, completely numb, as she unrolled them again.
    I should help , I thought, but my body refused to move. I sat on the bedding until she came back with a bundle of bandages and rags, as well as water. She set the basin down, and I scrubbed the mud and dust from my skin. I tied my wild hair back into a loose braid, knotting the string so tightly I nearly snapped it.
    The door to the cottage slammed open, and Pascal and another man carried North inside the room. The doctor fussed beside them, red in the face and panting hard as they set North’s unresponsive body down on the bed. I searched his face for any signs of life or changes in his condition; the moment my hand touched his pale, dirty skin, he let out a horrible moan.
    “Away—just—go—no one—!” His voice broke off in a tortured groan. “I don’t want you—”
    “North,” I said. “Can you hear me? Can I get you anything?”
    “No!” he yelled. “Nothing—alone!”
    “Don’t be a fool,” Pascal said. “I’ll get you a pain and slumber elixir. This is the curse, not just your wound, Wayland! You need to take them!”
    “No!” North thundered. “I won’t…I won’t take it…Make Syd…Make her leave!”
    “Not on your life, Wayland North,” I said sternly. “I’ll get you the elixir myself. You’re too out of sorts to make a decision like that.”
    “I SAID NO!”
    I stood there helplessly as he turned and buried his face in the bed.
    “Just go…Just go…,” he whispered brokenly. “No one…”
    I felt Aphra’s hands on my shoulders, but I shrugged them off.
    “All of you,” I said, my voice surprisingly clear. “All of you, get out.”
    “Let me help,” Pascal pleaded. North shook his head as if stuck in some fever dream. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, not even his magister.
    “I’ll need my bag,” I said. “I have my own elixirs he might be willing to take.”
    “I have it,” Lady Aphra said, her face pale in the candlelight. “Pascal, come with me.”
    “And what gives her the right to stay?” he demanded. “She’s known him for two months—I’ve known this boy his entire life!” I had a sudden vision of Pascal’s younger self, putting a small, dark-haired boy to bed and staying beside