Ignoring the advice, he tried to move and nearly succeeded, but for the two pairs of hands holding him down.
“Corayne?” he whispered, hunting for a glimpse of her. He caught pieces. Black hair edged in red light, her hands bare and too small, her knuckles scabbed. She still smelled like the river. And blood. The whole room smelled like blood, overpowering with the sour bite of iron.
“Yes, it’s me,” she huffed. “It’s all of us. It’s only us.”
The world came back into sharper focus. “Where are we?” He looked again to the window full of sunlight, and the churning water wheel feeding the mill. “I thought I was dead.”
“If only,” said Sarn’s poisonous voice.
The sting returned, piercing the skin. A gliding sensation followed, sharp and pulling. With a jolt, Dom realized she was stitching him up, weaving his torn flesh back together. He couldn’t see her at all, only feel her deliberate, careful fingers as they worked.
“I’ve never seen anyone lose so much blood and survive,” she said dryly.
Dom tried to sneer at her, but only shifted a little on the rough table. The wood creaked beneath him, groaning against his weight. He realized his shirt was gone entirely, even tatters torn away.
“Where’s Andry?” he said suddenly, craning his head. Again, Corayne and Sarn held him down.
“The squire saw the truth of Corayne’s words, and good that he did. They were closing the port when we escaped,” Sarn said. “He followed us out of the city.”
“I remember . . . some of that. But where is he now?” Dom answered, frustrated. “I can’t hear his heartbeat.”
Corayne came around the table, one hand braced against his upper arm. She wasn’t terribly strong. “You can hear heartbeats?” she said, sounding impressed. “Since when?”
“Ah, birth?” Dom answered tentatively. He looked over the room again, mostly at the thick layers of dust coating every surface.
Sarn worked another suture. “We’re on an abandoned farm, some miles west of Ascal. Trelland is plundering the house while we huddle in this broken-down mill. Or at least that’s what he’s pretending to do while he frets over his mother.” Her disdain was bitterly clear.
This time, Dom didn’t let Corayne hold him back. He rose up on his elbows, turning to put himself face-to-face with the assassin. Her cowl was gone, hanging loose around her neck, showing her full lips pressed together so tightly they almost disappeared. Like Corayne, she had dark circles beneath her eyes, and the black powder lining her lids was smeared away. Neither had slept, and mortals were so very dependent on sleep. Even so, the rage in his chest, born of grief and failure, rose up like embers being stoked to flame. How dare she judge the boy so? He bared his teeth, fists clenching. She didn’t flinch or move her hands from his side. Her needle pulled insistently.
“You are truly without a heart, Amhara,” he growled.
She stuck him again. “Thank you.”
Dom scowled. “We’re too close to the city.” The mill suddenly felt stifling, as if it might collapse on them at any moment. “We should still be on the move.”
Sarn took the accusation in stride, to his chagrin. “We were a bit limited in how far we could go, thanks to someone’s attempt at field surgery.”
He tried to knock away her hands, reaching for the needle. “I can do this myself, you know,” he snapped. Now that he could see the wound in the daylight, he realized how serious it was. And, he noted begrudgingly, how well the assassin could stitch.
“Somehow I have a hard time believing that,” she replied, intolerant.
“Somehow I thought I escaped this nonsense bickering,” Corayne finally butted in, pressing her hands to Dom’s shoulders. He fell flat with a huff. “I’ve got the Queen, her army, and my damned uncle to worry about. Let’s not add to the list, shall we?”
Dom felt oddly scolded, his cheeks going warm. “I’m not paying you another coin, Sarn. Not a penny,” he said, trying another tactic. Without payment, certainly the Amhara will disappear. “You are free to go and do as you like.”
“Well, I’d like to survive the next few years, in a realm that isn’t claimed and conquered by a hellscape,” Sarn answered smoothly, killing his hopes. “I suppose the best way to do that is to stay with the girl, since you aren’t much use.”
“And a single assassin is?” Dom spat. She tugged the needle again, harsher than she needed to be. He let her; his body was already healing. The flare of pain faded with every second, and he felt rather smug about it.