“Stand aside.” Jorgen pushed past Mathis.
“What do you think you are—？” Mathis halted his objection as Jorgen threw back the sheet and slid his arms under her. He lifted her easily and carried her past Mathis and Rutger, who stood with their mouths open.
He carried her through the narrow corridor of their house and through the front door. He knelt beside the litter attached to Mathis’s horse and laid her down so tenderly, something inside her chest seemed to break.
She gazed up into his eyes, searching . . . What for, she wasn’t sure. His blue-green eyes gazed back at her. But with Mathis and Rutger bursting out of the door and striding toward them, Jorgen stood.
Mathis took his place. “Is there anything I can get you, my dear?” He looked nervous as he clasped his hands and smiled.
Frau Hartman nudged him out of the way and tucked the blanket around her and placed a bundle—her hunting clothes and bow and arrows—beside her on the litter.
“If you need anything, my dear, you send for me.” She spared a glare over her shoulder before saying, “Men do not know how to take care of an injured woman. Humph.”
Soon Rutger and Mathis were ready and the horse started forward, and she began her bumpy journey home.
Odette awoke in her own bedchamber the next morning. Everything looked normal and familiar. But . . . Odette blinked. Sunlight was streaming in her window. She shivered and tried to pull the blanket underneath her chin, which took more effort than she would have thought. Either the blanket was extraordinarily heavy, or she was very weak. Her body ached and her head was hot. She touched her face with her right hand. It was so hot it seemed to singe her fingers. Her throat burned and she was so thirsty.
She became aware of someone sweeping the floor nearby. “Who is there?”
The person seemed to be just outside the room in the corridor. “It is Heinke.”
“Will you bring me some water? I do not know if I can stand.” Her leg throbbed and it hurt to open her eyes.
Heinke brought her some water a few minutes later.
“Will you get my uncle?”
“He is not here.” Heinke stared at her with wide eyes and her mouth open.
“Will you send for him? I think I need a doctor. Or better yet, can you send for Frau Hartman at the gamekeeper’s cottage?”
Heinke hurried out the door. She was a timid girl, but Odette prayed she would do as she had asked.
Odette was barely able to swallow a few sips of water. It seemed a very long time that she lay in bed alone. Finally Rutger stood beside her, touching her forehead.
“I thought you only needed sleep, but now you have a fever.” He looked at her with much the same expression as Heinke—wide eyes and open mouth. “I shall send for a doctor.”
When Odette awoke again, she heard humming and soft singing. Someone was touching Odette’s leg. She opened her eyes with a groan. The healer, Susanna, was bending over her, dabbing something yellow and foul smelling on her wound.
Frau Hartman sat at Odette’s side. She touched her cheek. “The healer is here.” She wiped Odette’s cheeks with a cool, wet cloth, then laid a damp cloth on her forehead. “And God will make you well. He hears our prayers for you.”
“Thank you.”
The healer called Frau Hartman to help her and to give her instructions. Odette’s eyes watered from something pungent in the air. The smell of turpentine overwhelmed her. Her leg must have turned septic, and they were putting turpentine ointment on her wound.
If her wound was septic, she might die. The realization didn’t bring fear, only resignation.
Frau Hartman resumed wiping Odette’s face, dabbing her lips with the cool water, pushing her hair back from her temples. But Frau Hartman’s voice came from the other side of the room as she talked with the healer. Who was wiping Odette’s face?
She opened her eyes. Jorgen sat beside her, touching the cloth to her cheek.
“How are you feeling?”
“A little better, I think.” But she wasn’t sure that was true.
“I am so sorry, Odette.” His eyes were luminous above her, his lashes dark and thick. Truly, his was a pleasant face.
“Sorry?”
“For shooting you.” He swallowed, as if the words were painful to say.
“You do not have to be sorry for that. It was my fault.”
He continued the task his mother had abandoned, and Odette closed her eyes, too weak to say more.
Soon Frau Hartman shooed him away, and Odette fell asleep, dreaming that Jorgen was carrying her through a hot, dry desert.