Chapter Seven

THE PULL I COULD NOT IGNORE 

MILA

“…and he stabbed him, Mrs. Marge! He stabbed him and ran! I swear he did!”

Selena’s voice reached me like a distant echo. I wasn’t fully awake yet, but every sound pushed me closer to the surface.

“That boy Bren has lost his mind,” Marge snapped. “I will not let this go. His father will hear about it, and he will answer for his actions.”

“He could have killed him,” Selena cried. Her breath shook, and I heard her wipe her nose. “Erwin was on the ground. There was so much blood. I thought he was… I thought he was gone.”

“Calm down,” Marge said, though she didn’t sound calm at all. “The healer already stitched the wound. He will wake up soon.”

I groaned quietly. My side throbbed. My mouth tasted dry. My eyes fluttered open, slowly, like they were glued shut.

The wooden ceiling came into view.

I blinked again.

Selena gasped so loudly the air shook.

“Erwin! You’re awake!”

I took a slow breath and tried to sit up. Pain shot through my side, sharp and deep. I inhaled fast and stopped moving.

“Stop!” Selena squeaked. “Please. Don’t get up. You’re hurt.”

I looked around. I was lying on a narrow bed in Marge’s spare room, wrapped in blankets that smelled of herbs. A bowl of water sat beside me. Towels. Bandages.

Marge stepped over with her hands on her hips. “You stay still.”

I didn’t listen. I pushed my elbows back, trying to rise again.

“Boy, if you move, I will tie you down,” Marge snapped.

I let myself fall back, breathing slowly.

Selena sat on the edge of the bed, her hands shaking. She brushed hair from her face and tried to smile, but her eyes were swollen from crying.

“You scared me,” she whispered.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

She leaned closer. “No, you are not. You lost so much blood. The healer said you were lucky I screamed early.”

I stared at the ceiling. “I told you I would be fine.”

“You almost died, Erwin!” she burst out. “Why do you always act like nothing hurts you?”

I didn’t answer. There was nothing I could say that she would understand.

Marge knelt beside me and peeled a corner of the bandage back. “The stitching looks good. No infection.” She tightened the dressing again. “But that does not mean you should move around.”

“There is work to do,” I said.

“You are not working today,” Marge said.

Selena nodded. “Listen to her. Please.”

Marge stood, crossed her arms and glared at me. “Selena told me everything. Bren needs a beating, and he will get one. His father will not protect him this time. I will make sure of it.”

“Do not trouble yourself,” I said.

“No,” she snapped. “He stabbed you. He will pay.”

Selena nodded quickly. “Yes. He will. I am so sorry, Erwin.”

I looked at her. Her face was red, her lips pressed tight, and her eyes were full of guilt.

“You didn’t stab me,” I said simply.

“I brought you there,” she whispered. “He was angry at me. He only hurt you because you tried to stand up for me.”

“You don’t need to cry,” I replied.

She shook her head. “I thought you stopped breathing.”

Her voice cracked again.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say.

Marge cleared her throat. “Selena, come help me with the herbs.”

Selena stood, but before leaving, she looked back at me. “Please don’t move.”

“I won’t,” I said.

It was a lie.

Ten minutes later, when the room was quiet and I heard Marge and Selena in the kitchen, I pushed myself up. The pain hit me hard, but I ignored it. I pulled the blanket off, stood slowly and held my side as I moved.

Walking hurt, but walking was still walking.

I stepped into the main room.

Selena turned and screamed. “Erwin! What are you doing?!”

“Going out,” I said.

“You can’t!” she rushed forward, grabbing my arm. “You can’t even stand straight!”

“I can stand perfectly fine,” I muttered.

Marge spun toward us. “Get back in that bed before I break your legs.”

“I need to finish cutting the wood,” I said. “There’s not much left. Winter—”

“Forget winter,” Marge barked. “You were stabbed. You do nothing today.”

“I’m not weak,” I snapped without thinking.

Selena flinched. “No one said you were weak.”

Marge squinted at me. “If you go out that door, don’t expect any soup today.”

“Good,” I muttered and kept walking.

“Erwin!” Selena shouted. “Stop!”

But I didn’t.

Pain tore through me with every step, but I reached the back door, pushed it open, and stepped outside.

The cold air felt sharp against my skin. I grabbed the axe from the chopping block.

My side throbbed as I lifted the axe. Fire ripped through my ribs but I swung anyway.

Sweat dripped down my forehead. I clenched my teeth. I would not fall. I would not look weak.

The bandage grew warm and  I looked down. And within seconds, the  blood was back.

“Stupid,” I muttered at myself, lifting the axe again.

Then I heard footsteps behind me. Light ones. I didn’t turn. I didn’t want to see who it was.

“Erwin…”

I closed my eyes. It was Selena again.

I turned.

She stood there, staring at the blood on my shirt, her hands shaking.

“I told you not to come,” I said.

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered. “You tore the wound open. Why do you never listen?”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine!” she yelled. Her eyes filled again. “Why do you hate yourself so much?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You don’t rest. You don’t stop. You don’t let anyone care about you. You scare me. I don’t want to lose you.”

I looked away, feeling uncomfortable with everything she said.

“Go back inside,” I said quietly.

“No,” she said. “Someone is here to see you.”

I frowned. “Who?”

She pointed toward the house. “Come inside.”

I walked past her, slower than before because every step pulled at the wound. My breathing grew shallow, and sweat stuck to my neck. I finally reached the door and stepped inside.

Then that same  pull from before hit me again.

Stronger this time. 

Like something moved inside my chest.

I stepped fully into the kitchen.

And then I saw him.

Prince Lucien stood beside Marge’s table, with his hands gripping the edge. His hair fell over his forehead. His eyes were green and bright and locked onto mine the moment I appeared.

His gaze traveled over my torn bandage, the blood, my shaking hands.

His jaw tightened.

Then he pushed himself forward in his chair.

“What happened to you?” he asked, his voice low and rough and I felt my heartbeat jump at that moment.