Echoes of Trauma
Edric shouted toward them at the top of his lungs.
"Her Highness is injured! She needs healing magic at once!"
Hearing that, Lord Hart ordered a knight behind him to fetch a mage.
Moments later, a young mage of the imperial household came running.
While he examined the princess's condition, Edric set to work with the knights clearing the stones.
When they lifted the boulder crushing her knee, the completely shattered joint and calf were revealed beneath the torn hem of her skirt.
Edric swallowed a groan at the sight of several shards of bone jutting through the skin. In a state like this, even healing magic might leave her unable to use the leg for the rest of her life.
"If we simply close the wound as it is, the leg will set completely twisted. We need to move her to the campsite first and align the bones."
The mage, studying the princess with a grave face, spoke in a voice weighted with dread.
Edric looked at him darkly.
"Can she hold on until then?"
"I've cast a recovery spell. She should be all right for now."
The mage answered as if sighing, then rubbed the back of his neck and added,
"Even so, it would be best to splint the leg so the wound doesn't open further. Do you have anything suitable?"
"Will this do?"
Lord Hart unfastened the scabbard from his waist and held it out.
The mage took it, shook it lightly as if gauging the weight, then slowly nodded.
"Then I'll bind the leg. Please support it from below."
Edric immediately followed the mage's instructions and carefully lifted her swollen calf.
In that instant, a scream of pure agony tore from the limp woman's mouth.
Edric startled and lost his grip. The leg with its protruding bones struck the ground and spurted dark red blood. He stood helpless before the horrific sight—until Barcas, who had been watching from a short distance, wrapped both arms around the princess's upper body and held her fast.
"Stop the bleeding, now!"
Edric snapped back to himself and hastily seized her leg.
Meanwhile the mage tore his cloak and compressed the long gash running from thigh to knee. The princess buried her face against Lord Siurkan's chest, letting out beast-like moans as she raked his nape with dark-red fingernails.
"Done! Bind the splint!"
At the mage's urgent cry, the knights bent and fixed her leg against the long scabbard.
When the emergency treatment was finally finished, Lord Siurkan lifted her into his arms.
Edric urgently reached a hand toward him.
"I'll carry her. Commander, your wound—"
The instant his fingers nearly touched, the man's arm pulled the woman's body tightly against himself. At that defensive gesture, Edric faltered.
Barcas narrowed his brow as if annoyed and jerked his chin.
"That's enough. Lead the way. We don't have time to waste."
"I—I'm sorry."
Muttering an apology without meaning to, Edric took up a torch and hurriedly lit the path. They could not climb the steep slope carrying the princess in that condition; to reach the campsite they would have to go around the cliff face.
As he walked the dark forest path, he glanced back at Barcas.
Torchlight from the knights faintly illuminated one side of the man's face. Edric stared hard at that expression—cold to the point of looking almost bored—then straightened his head. This was no time to wonder about that man's inner thoughts.
Driving out the distractions swirling through his mind, Edric quickened his pace and emerged from the densely wooded forest.
Her leg felt as if it were on fire.
Moaning at the pain of flesh that seemed to be boiling, Thalia barely managed to lift her heavy eyelids, which felt as if they had been glued shut.
In her flickering vision, a ceiling shimmering with firelight swam into view. The confused expression lasted only a moment before bone-piercing agony made her thrash and let out a sharp scream.
"Hold her down so she can't move!"
Drawn by the unfamiliar voice, she lowered her gaze and saw a solidly built middle-aged man bent deeply over her leg.
With one hand pressing down on her thigh, he was probing into her blood-soaked knee with something like small forceps.
Staring at that sight with eyes full of terror, Thalia soon twisted her body to escape him. Then someone standing at her head roughly pressed down on her shoulders.
"Your Highness! Please calm yourself!"
Thalia looked up, gasping roughly, at the dark shadow cast over her.
The haggard face marked with deep exhaustion looked somehow familiar. Only a few seconds later did she realize it was one of the maids Senebier had assigned to her. But she felt not the slightest relief.
With dilated pupils, Thalia looked back and forth between the maid's rigid face and the man digging into her knee, then reached out and clawed at the woman's face.
The maid, who had been restraining her with sun-tanned, sturdy arms, screamed and hastily pulled her hands away. Seizing that opening, Thalia tried to crawl across the cot to escape—when a rough hand shot out from somewhere and pinned her wrist to the bed.
Thalia thrashed violently like a beast caught in a trap.
"Let go! I said let go!"
"Please calm down! We're treating your wound right now. You mustn't move like that!"
The man cried out desperately, pressing his armored chest down on her upper body.
Thalia began to struggle even more violently. The extreme pain felt as if it were carving her entire body to pieces. But the terror that she had to escape right now overwhelmed every other sensation.
"Bring a sleeping draught at once!"
The man shouted.
Thalia looked up with terrified eyes at the rough face cast in deep shadow. Her own guard knight, who had always acted like a fool, was restraining her with a harshly hardened expression.
Familiar fear and helplessness tightened around her throat.
She reached out to claw at his face.
"G-get away! Leave me alone!"
When she screamed it out like a shriek between rough sobs, a short curse burst from the man's mouth.
Thalia twisted her body even more desperately. Then the man gathered both her wrists in one hand and brought a cold glass vial to her lips.
"Drink this. When you wake, everything will be over."
Thalia clamped her mouth shut.
But he did not give up easily. Pressing the mouth of the vial firmly against her lower lip, the man spoke as if pleading.
"It's not poison! It's medicine to help you feel no pain while we treat you. So please…"
Even at the knight's desperate appeal, Thalia held out, clenching her teeth.
She couldn't trust anyone.
They were all surely waiting for her to become helpless so they could do something terrible to her.
Thalia knocked the vial away with her elbow and stubbornly forced herself upright. Then, thrashing her blood-soaked leg to free herself from the beasts holding her—when a slender shadow suddenly stepped into the tent.
Confirming his face, Thalia went stiff.
The man who brought with him the thick scent of rain seized her upper body with snare-like arms.
There was no time to escape. Barcas, positioned behind her, held her upper body firmly with one arm and jerked his chin at the knight.
"Bring the medicine."
The knight immediately obeyed the order.
Receiving a new vial, Barcas pulled the cork free with his molars and pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips.
Thalia stared at it with trembling eyes, then shifted her gaze to his expressionless face.
Barcas urged her in a low tone.