More horses topped the hill above them—Jorgen, Odette, and two guards. The guards reached him first and dismounted.
Reinhart handed her to the first guard. “Hold her while I mount my horse.” He glanced at the others. “Jorgen, Odette, go after them. They went east, at least three.”
Reinhart mounted his horse and reached for Avelina. The guard handed her back to him. He turned his horse toward the castle and started up the hill.
He held her tightly in his arms. She was so pale. How much blood had she lost? She seemed to be losing consciousness. She needed to stay awake.
“How did this happen?” he demanded. “What were you doing out here?”
Her teeth slammed together so hard he wasn’t sure she could speak. She huddled against his chest. “Irma s-said w-we had to l-leave. Fronicka . . . sh-she t-told Irma t-to leave me . . . in the s-snow. Th-the wolves came.”
She clung to his shirtfront, blood soaking through her sleeve, but he feared her ankle was her worst injury.
“You’re hurt,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She had that dazed look on her face, a dangerous symptom he had seen once before in a soldier who had been badly injured. And if she did not get warm . . .
He urged the horse to go faster as they came to the steepest part of the road to the castle. The horse’s hooves slipped on the snow but kept fighting upward. They finally made it to the castle steps.
Reinhart managed to hold her as he dismounted. He carried her toward the castle.
A guard ran down the steps and took Avelina from his arms, several more guards behind him. He carried her into the castle, with Reinhart just behind them.
“Fetch Frau Schwitzer. Send someone for the healer in the cottage in the forest. Fetch a bucket of hot water and clean cloths and bandages, and build up a fire in the front room.”
A maidservant scurried into the room ahead of the guard who carried Avelina in. A fire was blazing in a small fireplace and the servant was already throwing more wood on it.
“Put her on that couch next to the fire,” he said.
Avelina sucked in a quick breath, as though a sudden pain struck her. The guard laid her on the couch in a sitting position, with her legs stretched out on the cushions. Reinhart grabbed a large fur and laid it over her, pulling it up to her chin, then he knelt at her feet and found them bare. She must have lost her shoes in the snow.
Shoes. He told her he would get her some more shoes after the balcony incident. He’d forgotten.
Her feet were like blocks of ice, and her toes were purple. He started rubbing her right foot between his hands. She inhaled another sharp breath. At least she was waking up and no longer had that dazed, vacant look in her eyes.
Another woman servant came in. Reinhart ordered her to rub Avelina’s other foot.
Avelina bit her lip, probably to keep from crying out.
Two more women servants came in and he ordered them to take over the intense work of rubbing her feet between their hands.
Frau Schwitzer hurried into the room. Reinhart ordered, “Go find some dry clothes for her.”
Avelina’s teeth were chattering worse than ever as she huddled underneath the fur. It must be the wet clothing she was still wearing. He turned to the maidservants in the room.
“Get those wet clothes off her, now. Frau Schwitzer is coming with some dry ones.” He left the room and waited outside.
It wasn’t until that moment he realized he did not know where his cane was, and his ankle was throbbing almost as bad as the wolf bites to his shoulder and arm.
She had been so close to being killed . . . His stomach clenched again. Thank You, God, I got to her in time. Again.
The maidservants were undressing her. Avelina was nearly helpless—stiff with cold and shaking uncontrollably. The women quickly and efficiently divested her of her clothing and pulled a new, thicker underdress over her head, followed by a rich velvet cotehardie. Then they covered her again with the fur robe. It was all over in a matter of moments.
Avelina’s teeth still chattered. But at least the fog was finally clearing from her mind and she focused on the here and now and pushed away the terror and the attacking wolves from her mind.
Lord Thornbeck came back in and he and another servant went back to rubbing her feet, a grim look on his face. He had come and rescued her from the wolves, risking his life in the process. Did he still care for her? She had been so dazed, she had not really understood what was happening during the attack. But now . . .
O Lord God, let him not suffer any lasting effects from having saved me. Let his wounds heal and not fester. She could not bear it if any lasting harm came to him because of her.