The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 29

Chad had never seen Lillian look as relieved as she did when Sam and Crynia limped through the door supporting a very battered, bruised, and unconscious Nyle between the two of them.

The effect the words "He's alive" had on her when they came out of Sam's mouth was even more amazing. The spark that'd died when she walked out of his cell came back to life, and her mouth flattened into that line that meant business. She was determined to save her friend—or whatever Nyle was to her. Chad could see it in the way she stood, the way she straightened her shoulders and took a breath. She was shedding the broken girl that'd made an appearance too many times that day, if only for a little while.

And he admired her for that. Because he didn't seem to be capable of it.

"Get him on the bed, stomach down," Lillian ordered, tying her hair back in a quick ponytail and tucking it in the back of her shirt. Chad almost didn't recognize her voice. It wasn't trembling. It wasn't broken. It was steady and firm; the voice of a good doctor ready to work without distraction, whether internal or otherwise.

Sam and Crynia struggled under Nyle's weight as they carried him to the bed and unslung his bloodied arms from around their respective shoulders. Nyle was ridiculously lean and respectably tall, but his dead weight was no doubt difficult to carry, even for two people as strong as Sam and Crynia. But Crynia, though considerably stronger than Chad had judged when he met her, still looked to be in need of time to sleep off the rest of the alcohol in her blood, so Sam was stuck with more than his share of the heavy lifting.

Lillian had a pair of shears in her hand and was snipping away at Nyle's shredded tunic the moment he was laid on her mattress. Without stopping or looking up, she jerked her head at the leather bag of instruments Chad had managed to snag from the castle physician's room when the man had gone on an errand. "Chad, grab that bag and sterilize the needles in the fire. You're going to help me sew him up."

He swallowed hard. He didn't mind blood—but it brought back unsavory memories. "Why me?"

This time, Lillian looked up and met his eyes unwaveringly. There was steel in her gaze that cut him to the core. "Because Sam's hands are shaking, and Crynia's still half drunk."

Chad glanced behind him. Sam was leaning up against the wall, his hair hanging over his face, covering half of his worried expression. His arms were crossed, hands tucked into his elbows. Maybe Lillian was right. He at least looked shaken up. And Crynia, even with the adrenaline that she'd probably had shooting in her veins when they broke Nyle out, was slumped with her spine to the wardrobe, arms resting on her mud-stained knees, nodding off.

"All right," escaped him without permission. Idiot, he reprimanded himself. His hands would probably shake worse than Sam's when it came to this. Because he knew, he just knew, that instead of Nyle, he'd see his father lying there, bleeding and lifeless with a sword through his gut.

Without another word, he forced his legs forward to the edge of the bed. When he reached for the satchel, Lillian caught his wrist gently. Chad looked up and met her gaze. There was a small, understanding sort of smile on her face that made him feel a little better.

"You'll do great, yeah?" she said softly. "Just keep your concentration on me and whatever I tell you to do. It helped me when I started."

Chad studied her face for a moment, looking from one pretty green eye to the other. And then he nodded.

***

It took Lillian a good four hours to treat all of Nyle's wounds as best she could. As it was, his back was still raw and red, riddled with careful stitches on the worst lashes. She could do nothing about the cracked ribs and bruises the guards had given him, and she couldn't heal the damage to the knee he'd managed to dislocate. All she could do was sit by his bedside, fingers to his wrist, and make sure his heart was still beating.