Imber

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Imber Page 21

by Tyffany Hackett


  “You need to let me help you,” I tried again.

  Camion squeezed the hand he still had in his grip. “I’m okay, Tyli. I’ve had worse.”

  The revelation startled me, and I turned to ask but he’d released my hand. His eyes scouted the path ahead and I stared at his side. What could be worse than the wounds that had soaked his shirt in so much blood? I opened my mouth, clamping it shut again when I couldn’t find words.

  “You know, this reminds me of the last time you had to help me bandage a wound.” Jyn’s voice cut into my thoughts and I stared at him as he moved toward me. He barely limped—I was grateful for that.

  “That’s what you get out of this situation?”

  “Well, no. But the thought crossed my mind.”

  “What happened?” Camion asked. I got the distinct impression that he was trying to keep the subject away from himself. I frowned at the pair.

  “Natylia used to hate me, did you know?” Jyn grinned. “She hated that I existed.”

  I rolled my eyes, but he wasn’t lying. For a long time, I despised having a guard and that Jyn was so good at his job only infuriated me further.

  “That doesn’t explain anything,” Meryn commented, falling into step beside Jyn. Camion walked beside me and if the other two noticed that he was struggling they didn’t comment.

  “Well, when I first met Natylia she had a very lenient guard who let her get away with just about anything. Her father thought a change of pace might sharpen her up. Steer her in the right direction instead of tailing after that Andimir character all the time.”

  Camion’s eyebrow rose and he glanced at me. I shrugged. “Andimir was a good guy. Jyn doesn’t like him because he walked in on an incredibly awkward situation and apparently still hasn’t forgiven me.”

  “She snuck out of the palace late one night, about four years after I was hired. If anything had happened to her my position would have been terminated or worse. I remember feeling awful—her father had given me a glorious opportunity, with more pay than I could ever have hoped for and a roof over my head to boot.” Jyn sighed. “But after that night I tried to resign. All the pay in the world wasn’t worth chasing that terror of a princess all over the countryside.”

  I shrugged. “Father convinced you to stay.”

  “Barely. And if I thought she hated me before?” Jyn laughed. “Oh boy, was I wrong. Telling her father about Andimir? She wasn’t allowed out of the palace with him or Lucian, their little tag-along.”

  “The funny part is, despite all of that, I learned to respect Jyn a great deal only a few days later.”

  Jyn nodded, his eyes slightly more somber. “We’d rode into town to find a gift for her mother’s birthday. I had never actually been tested as her guard before, but that day . . . ”

  “A man attacked me,” I said bluntly. “He came after me, screaming something in what I now know to be Elvish. At the time, I remember being confused and scared. Jyn still won’t tell me what he said.”

  “You don’t need to know, trust me.”

  “I’m missing how any of this reminds you of her bandaging your wound?” Meryn snickered.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m getting to that,” Jyn said.

  “Jyn broke that man. Seventeen-year-old Jyn made sure that man wasn’t walking away . . . possibly ever.” I shuddered. “But he got a good blow in with his dagger on Jyn’s upper arm. There’s still a scar.”

  “I had never seen Natylia so panicked and terrified in her life,” Jyn laughed. “She squawked like a mother hen. The wound wasn’t any deeper than these ones either.”

  “But I had never seen so much blood!” I protested, frowning. “And I had no idea what to do but I needed to help.”

  “I taught her how to dress the wound.”

  “After laughing at me.”

  “I did,” Jyn conceded. “But at the end of the day, we got along pretty well.”

  “And now?” Meryn asked.

  “I couldn’t live without him,” I said quietly. Jyn grabbed my hand and squeezed, the humor fading from his smile.

  “You won’t have to.”

  “So what happened to the guy?” Camion asked. I heard the strain in his voice and my eyes fell to his side again. I wasn’t sure if there was actually more blood on his shirt or my imagination was going wild. I didn’t like the idea of either.

  “He was thrown in the dungeon. No clue beyond that,” Jyn said. “I imagine her father dealt with him.”

  Camion hesitated before he asked, “And Andimir? I don’t think I’ve heard the name before.”

  Jyn looked at me as if to say I should decide how to answer. I bit my lip. “Two days after Jyn caught us together, he and his family vanished. I asked Father about them, he didn’t know anything. I’ve never heard from him again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Camion said quietly.

  I shrugged. “That was years ago. Lucian heard rumors of a pirate named Andimir around Dalbran, but if they’re the same he’s had no interest in sending word.”

  Silence fell over us, broken only by our steps over underbrush. Camion steered us to a clearing directly shy of a split in the trail. The soft gurgle of water nearby meant I could likely clean Camion’s wounds in the morning, if I could convince him. Meryn set to work as soon as we’d dropped our packs. She carved runes into the ring of trees while we cooked the Kotsani meat and laid out beds. The magic use was clearly taking a toll on her; she looked weary and drained. When she passed me I grabbed her wrist and squeezed gently, her smile only a slight reassurance. Camion pretended to keep pace with Jyn but staggered when Jyn’s back was turned. My gut knotted each time, and when I tried to help he insisted he was fine. His pride was literally going to kill him.

  Chapter 27

  I jolted awake. The dreams were getting worse—maybe a subconscious side effect of being in the forest, maybe guilt from the attack yesterday. I considered telling them we should turn back. My mind raced over the wounds the men sported, the blood that soaked their clothing. Too similar to my dream. My stomach tossed. I shoved my cloak off of me, barely breaking the tree line before I was sick. I jumped when a hand touched my back, and another pulled the loose strands of my hair away from my face. Camion didn’t shy away from me, or move when I sat on my hands and knees and cried. My tears pelted the grass beneath me, soothed slightly by the slow circles Camion’s handmade across my back.

  When I settled and wiped my eyes, I looked up and flinched. Camion’s face was pale and shiny with sweat. I lifted my fingers to his forehead. Panic rose in my chest at the blazing heat that met my touch. My eyes dropped to his side, to the blood that I was now certain had spread.

  “Camion!” His name came out in a terrified whisper, and he cringed.

  “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

  “Please, let me help you. Please.” He stared at me for a long moment, and I genuinely thought he might refuse. But his throat bobbed and he nodded. I paused to think. “Are the other two still asleep?”

  “I think so?”

  We crept back into camp, and I grabbed my pack. I doubted that Jyn was actually asleep—he was far too still—but I shouldered my bag and followed Camion’s lead to the stream nearby. My chest tightened when he staggered. Clearly, he was far weaker than he let on.

  Camion dropped into the wet mud beside the stream and lifted the edge of his shirt. I started to pull the bandages free when I paused, balking at the sight. His wounds were much deeper than Jyn’s.

  “Camion, I can’t see them all. You have to take your shirt off.” He hesitated, the muscles in his side tensing under my hand. “Camion, I don’t know what you’re scared of, but I promise you that there’s nothing in the world you could show me that I would judge you for. Please, you have to let me help you.”

  He hadn’t moved when I noticed that his hands shook slightly where they rested on his knees. I reached for one and squeezed his fingers, leveling my eyes with his. He took a breath.

  “Tyli, I . . .” His voice quav
ered when, after a moment, he added, “Okay.”

  Seconds passed before he moved and when he did his movement was timid, cautious. He finally pulled the shirt off his shoulders, his face twisted into a grimace at the pull of the gashes. The cuts were longer than I’d thought—the lines started at the base of his ribs and wrapped down his side. I could manage the wounds, they weren’t lethal, but I cringed at how deep each gash actually ran.

  I hadn’t noticed why Camion had been so hesitant, so intent on his wounds, but then I saw. A banding of scars ran across his back that covered almost every inch of skin from his shoulders to his waist.

  “Camion, what happened?” I asked gently. I ran my fingertips over the knotted skin and he shivered. He shook his head.

  “My demons?” he offered. His smirk was half-hearted.

  I didn’t press the matter. Instead, I carefully washed out the strips of linen and soaked them in lavender and rosemary oil before I wrapped them on his cleaned wounds. I washed his shirt too, pulling from my pack a dry one that I’d grabbed while I was in camp. He took the clothing gratefully and tugged unconsciously at the chain around his neck after he’d pulled the shirt on. I leaned closer.

  “What’s that?”

  “It was my mother’s,” he said quietly.

  He held the silver chain out from his chest. A ring dangled from the bottom, the band a pinkish gold color and the stone a beautiful piece of rose quartz.

  “For something so simple it’s incredibly beautiful.”

  “Thank you. The ring is one of the only possessions of hers that I still have.”

  “Did she . . .?”

  He nodded. “When I was young.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I propped his other shirt on a branch to dry and fell into the mud next to him. We slipped into comfortable silence, eyes locked on the stream. Tiny, brightly colored dragonflies dipped by. A little green frog rested on a rock a few feet away, watching us warily.

  “Thank you,” Camion said softly after a few moments.

  “You’re welcome.”

  He fidgeted with his hands, picked at his nails. “Don’t . . . don’t mention them to the others. Please?”

  “Never.”

  I knew what he meant, that he wasn’t talking about the wounds. I didn’t know what else to say, and I didn’t really mind the peaceful silences that were becoming routine with Camion. Another minute passed before he spoke again and he reached for my arm before he did. His touch was light, warm, and I looked up into his face.

  “Tyli, I don’t want you to think I’m keeping things from you. Not from you. I—” he ran his free hand through his hair, inhaling slowly as he closed his eyes. “I promise you, at a more appropriate time, I’ll tell you more. For now, I’ll say my father. My father happened.”

  “How long did this go on?” He hesitated and realization dawned on me. “Wait, you couldn’t afford to leave until you started doing my lessons? Barely a year ago?”

  Camion flinched and withdrew his hand. “I saved everything, every copper I could manage. When I was able to fight back he started stealing from me, and I needed to keep my strength up for work. Hiding money didn’t help, he always found my stash. Around the time I started earning the substantial pay from your mother, I found that cave we stayed in . . . I started hiding the money there.”

  “I’m glad she hired you,” I said. Subconsciously, I spun a lock of hair around my finger.

  “Thanks, Tyli.” He offered me a half smile.

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “The name popped into my head one day and drove you crazy, so I kept using it.” He laughed gently. “Now I use the name mostly from habit.”

  I watched him for a moment. His eyes were soft. “Father used to call me Tyli. Until you, he was the only one who ever used that name.”

  Camion stilled. “I can stop.”

  “No, I’m glad you do. I’m glad someone does.”

  I leaned toward the stream and began to wash my face, hands, arms. I took special care to wash the small cut on my arm, though the wound had scabbed over and was healing well enough that I could take the linen off. Camion simply watched. His eyes sparkled through a rainbow of emotions when I turned back to face him.

  “What are you thinking?”

  He squirmed, lifted a shoulder. “What was your dream about last night?”

  I paused. “You’d died. All of you had died. You were scattered across my mother’s room in various positions but every single one of you had died the same. Slit throats. Blood everywhere. So much blood.” My stomach trembled.

  “Wait. You saw your mother? What had happened to her?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Jyn tried to keep me out. He tried to warn me, but I had to know. Now I get to see the scene every night, over and over, an endless loop.”

  Camion slid closer, pressed into my side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t tell you.”

  “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “You should know,” I said quietly. My eyes followed the tiny sparkles that trembled over the stream. “Mother was sick. Really sick, the healers were counting her days. That’s why I took the throne early. I petitioned the Council behind her back and took her throne. I wanted to give her some peace before . . . and then . . .”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. My eyes burned, and I blinked hard.

  “Why do you let people think you simply took her throne? You did something commendable, if you told your people what was going on maybe they would leave you to your crown without another word.”

  “Mother didn’t want people knowing she was ill. Even now, I think mentioning her condition is irrelevant.” I wiped at the stray tear that slipped down my cheek. “I don’t want her to ever seem weak. She wasn’t.”

  “No one will remember her as weak, Tyli. Not when she has a daughter as strong as you.”

  “You’re kind,” I said quietly. “I’m a fool. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Camion reached out and took my hand, lacing his fingers through my own.

  “Maybe you don’t always need to know what you’re doing. But your venture out here? To chase a rumor in case you might be able to save your people? That’s brave, Natylia.” He squeezed my fingers. “Besides, you convinced Jyn to come along. He’s still stoically against the idea, but there he is.”

  “I convinced Jyn to come because I threatened to leave him behind.” I huffed. “He still doesn’t want to be here. And let’s be honest, neither of you would be wounded if I hadn’t insisted on this fool trip.”

  “I’m fine. Jyn’s fine. Have a little faith in yourself.”

  I glanced up. Camion’s blue and green eyes were locked onto my face, no trace of humor to be found. His cheeks were flushed again, instead of the pale and sickly white they had been. I pulled my hand free of his and brushed his forehead. “You’re still very warm.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  He paused. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh good.” I snorted. “I think Meryn might have something to help with the fever, but you have to go easy on yourself.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “So, what are you two doing?”

  I jumped at the voice and slipped down the mud, landing solidly in the inch-deep water behind me. Camion sprang to help me, wincing at the pain in his side before he offered me a hand. I grabbed his hand for show but pushed myself to my feet, narrowing my eyes as the pair burst into laughter.

  “Good morning to you too,” I hissed at Jyn, who grinned broadly. I wiped the mud off the rear of my leathers.

  “How long have you been awake?” Jyn asked. He moved past me to the stream and knelt to wash off.

  “Long enough.” I shot a glance at Camion. “He woke me whining about his wounds.”

  Camion crossed his arms over his chest. “Right. That’s exactly what happened.”

  Jyn shook his head
at the sarcasm that dripped from his tone. He scrubbed up the points of his ears and wet down his hair before he turned back to me, looping the strands into a braid.

  “I know you were sick again. I heard you.” He tapped the point of his ear and shook his head. “You two need to collaborate your story better.” He nudged me as he passed, disappearing back toward camp.

  “Shall we?” Camion asked. I offered him an arm for support.

  Meryn sat cross-legged in front of the fire. Her eyebrow rose when we stepped into the clearing, her eyes scaling the clean shirt Camion wore. She didn’t pry, merely passed us each a portion of meat.

  “We need to eat fast,” she said to me. “With those two wounded we need to press daylight as hard as we can. The night is going to come at a much slower pace.”

  I helped her pack everything, forcing Camion and Jyn to relax while they could. We hit the split in the path around midday and Meryn’s map pointed to the right side so we went right. I helped Camion when I could and when I found Elderberry flowers on our path I passed him a handful to chew on so his fever wouldn’t worsen. Meryn hadn’t had any of the small blossoms when I’d asked at camp, so we were fortunate they grew here. Jyn watched my actions with curiosity and after a while asked Camion to lead with Meryn.

  “He’s not okay, is he?” Jyn asked, voice low. He’d tugged me far enough behind the others that I doubted they’d have heard in a normal voice, but I shrugged and kept my response quiet.

  “He’s not doing as badly as he was this morning.”

  “How bad are his wounds?”

  “Long and deeper than yours. Especially toward the center. He definitely had a fever this morning.”

  “So, how’d you get him to let you help? He wouldn’t let either of you near him last night.”

  I hesitated. “His bandages slipped while he was asleep, the blood was steeping his entire shirt. I offered to help and he let me. Actually, I kind of insisted.”

  Jyn studied my face for a moment. “I don’t know what you two were talking about, but I’ve known Camion for years. I met him for the first time shortly after your father brought me to the palace. Not once has he ever mentioned anything about his private life to or around me.”

 

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