Free Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) by Boone Brux Page B

hands on his upper arms. “I’ll take care of her, my lord. Gather your strength. Let me help. You can heal her later.”
    Ravyn watched their exchange. How did Willa know? Were they so transparent in their lie? Weakness washed over her and she eased onto the bed. Rhys looked at her. She returned his stare, willing him to stay, afraid of Willa’s condemnation.
    After several seconds, he said, “You’ll require a needle and thread. She needs to be stitched.”
    Ravyn groaned at his words.
    “She’ll tell you she doesn’t, but she does. And she doesn’t like needles. If need be I can hold her down.”
    Ravyn gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
    “Try me.”
    She glowered at him. “Traitor.”
    Willa’s smiled indulgently and patted Rhys’s arm. “Thank you, but I think we can manage.”
    He gave Ravyn a long look. Without encouragement or reassurance, he turned and left the room.
    Willa walked toward her. “Now, let’s see what we have here.”
    She lifted the blanket from Ravyn’s shoulders, revealing her blood-soaked dress. “My, my, my, it appears you ran into a little trouble. Bane?”
    Ravyn coughed, caught off guard by Willa’s deduction. “You’re not surprised?”
    “After being married to Orvis, not a lot surprises me anymore.” She dropped the blanket to the floor. “We’re familiar with the Demon Bane and their minions.”
    “When you say we , do you mean you and Orvis?”
    “Me, Orvis, our children, and others. Let’s get you out of these clothes and stitched up.” She reached in her pocket and produced a small leather pouch. “And don’t try to sweet-talk me. You need to be stitched and wrapped before infection sets in. As it is, you’ll probably have a few nasty marks.”
    “I think…” Ravyn’s stomach churned as she watched Willa thread a long, sharp needle. “I believe I’d rather have the infection.”
    “Nonsense,” Willa said. “Think of them as battle scars.” She lined up the strand and pushed it through the needle. “If you’re married to Rhys, I’m sure these won’t be your last.”
    The thought of more demon attacks nauseated Ravyn. How could she accept help from these fine people and lie to them at the same time? Her very existence here at the inn put their lives in danger. They helped her because they believed she was Lady Blackwell. A lie—all of it a lie.
    “Let’s get you undressed.” Willa helped her stand. Ravyn’s head swam and fatigue pushed against her resolve. After unlacing the bodice, Willa widened the gap and slid the material down Ravyn’s shoulders. With a firm grip under her elbow, she levered Ravyn back down to sit on the bed. “This may hurt a bit.”
    The innkeeper tugged at the fabric stuck to the dried blood. Ravyn gasped as the material peeled partly away from the stinging wounds. Willa stood to retrieve a warm bowl of water and a rag. She soaked the area around the wounds, dissolving the blood to free the dress. The pain was nearly as bad as the anticipation of the needle. Willa set the bowl on the floor and helped Ravyn extract her arms from the tight sleeves to fully expose the wounds.
    “Would you rather sit up or lie back while I do this?”
    “Lie back. I don’t trust myself to stay conscious.” A lump clogged her throat, making it hard to take a breath. “I really hate needles.”
    Willa fluffed the pillows, and Ravyn slid up to lean against the cushions. “Close your eyes. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
    Though Willa’s tone was reassuring, Ravyn wasn’t fooled. This would hurt.
    Stick , drag —it hurt. Every pinch of the needle, every pull of the thread through her raw and tattered flesh throbbed. She stared at the ceiling, unable to watch the slow, precise stitches. She held her breath, waiting for the each new poke of the needle.
    After several teeth-gritting minutes, Willa stood. “All done. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
    The woman’s encouraging words did not hurt. Ravyn suspected she could endure a