Sisters Three (Completed)

39. Brenna (2/2)

The guard hauled Robbin onto the bed with a heave, and the doctor rushed in behind him. Brenna hung to one side, her arms hovering away from her sides in a vain attempt to not spread the bloodstains any farther.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the doctor pulled open Robbin's shirt to reveal his blood soaked chest and the front puncture wound. After a cursory glance at it, the doctor turned his attention to gently tapping the side of Robbin's face.

"You Highness. Can you hear me, Your Highness?"

Robbin groaned and shifted, lifting his hand to feebly wave off the doctor's attempts to rouse him.

"Oh, very good!" the doctor said with a smile. "This bodes well. How are you feeling?"

"Bloody half-dead, how do you think?" Robbin growled before devolving into a cough.

Brenna exhaled the breath she'd been holding. Robbin at least had the strength to snap at those trying to help him.

"Yes, yes, right. Of course," the doctor said, his good mood unquenchable. "I meant more specifically if you were feeling anything unusual, such as nausea, abdominal pains, and numbness in the limbs."

Robbin shook his head. "None of those. Just weak, and pain where I was stabbed."

"Stabbed? So this was a blade of some sort? The wound is so tidy and cylindrical, though..." As he talked, the doctor began poking at Robbin's injury, drawing a hissing intake from Robbin as his face scrunched in pain.

"Perhaps we should focus on patching my husband up first, Doctor? I am sure we will have plenty of time to discuss the weapon once he is comfortable and no longer in danger."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, Queen Brenna, that is definitely correct." He leaned over to fetch his leather bag from the floor, and fumbled around in the depths until he came out with a dark glass bottle. Turning back to Robbin, he uncorked the top. "This will be a bit sharp as I clean out the wounds. Just a dash of stinging, but it will help in the long run."

He hadn't finished talking before he poured the acidic smelling liquid directly into the hole beneath Robbin's ribs. Yelping, Robbin squirmed under the doctor's ministrations, muttering curses under his breath and clutching the sheets tightly in his fists. Brenna unconsciously took a step forward, hesitated, and then swooped in to stand by the bed side. As she watched, the liquid ran out the other end of Robbin's back, tinged with red.

The doctor replaced the bottle in his bag and then pulled out a leather packet that contained a needle and thread. Pushing Robbin onto his side, the doctor started on one side and moved to the other, making long black sutures on the puckered skin. Brenna watched Robbin's face throughout, the way it flushed red and sweat glistened on his brow. His jaw jumped with the effort of keeping in the assuredly effusive collection of foul words he wanted to spew at the doctor.

While she knew he would be in a terrible mood for a good while yet, she couldn't help but think that his sour temper was at least a sign that he was alive and still fighting for his life.

"That should do it," the doctor said, cutting off the thread with his teeth and guiding Robbin back onto his back. "Only have to bandage it and you can start your path to healing."

From the bag a length of white bandages was produced, but before the doctor could unwind them Brenna held out her hand.

"If you don't mind, I'll take over now. You've done a fine job, and are a credit to your profession, but I would feel better if I could have some hand in King Robbin's recovery."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I will leave you alone for now. If he develops a fever beyond what is normal for wounds, alert me immediately. Otherwise, he is in need of food and water to regain his strength and take him out of harm's way."

"Thank you," Brenna said, dipping her head in acknowledgement of the doctor's parting bow.

As soon as the door shut, Robbin seemed to sag in the bed, his previous mien of grumpy bravery crumbling away until she saw the bags under his eyes and the way his chest struggled to rise and fall. Even for the benefit of just a doctor, Robbin had to put on a show that he was stronger than whatever the world could throw at him. He raised a hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth pressed tightly closed.

Brenna sat on the bed, slightly jostling him and causing him to wince. She unwound the bandages and placed one end on his side, holding it in place while she slowly wound it around and threaded it under his back. She repeated this, going slowly in order to get the tension just right to stabilize his side while not crushing the stitches. Robbin bore it quietly, but a sheen of sweat on his forehead hinted at a struggle.

"Are you going to tell me what happened now?" Brenna asked.

Robbin sighed and lowered his hand, his eyes still shut. "Your sister was less than hospitable. I suppose she really has something against letting us cut through her mountains, so she used her magic to spear me with an icicle. As stupid as that sounds."

Brenna's hands stilled for a moment before she continued with the bandages. "She's there then? It really was her?"

"She answered to the name of Adair and she looked as terrible as you can when you get in a temper," he muttered. "I would say she was definitely your sister, and she inherited the wildness that you did."

Brenna wasn't sure what to feel at the news. While she was in some way relieved that her older sister was still breathing, she also remembered the darkness that Adair used to carry with her. That feeling of never quite knowing if Adair might someday snap and do something drastic. Apparently, it had not been a mistaken premonition. Still, Brenna was glad that Adair hadn't died in some poor farmer's dirt hut.

"She said nothing, just attacked you?"

Robbin shook his head. "She talked, but she didn't listen. I tried to explain what we wanted, but she wasn't interested."

She reached the end of the bandages and split the end to tie it securely in place. Robbin tested it gingerly with his fingers, and then put his elbows under himself to prop up. Brenna slipped an arm around his shoulders to help maneuver him into a sitting position against the pillows. He closed his eyes once again, taking a few moments to recover, breathing through his nose.

Brenna busied with cleaning what she could, stripping off the crumpled blanket but having to leave the other bedclothes pinned under Robbin. They were stained with blood and whatever liquid the doctor had used to clean his wounds, and the smell of blood filled the air. Brenna wrinkled her nose, but tried to ignore it. Her own dress was ruined beyond repair, but she at least had a husband who would mend.

After a moment, Brenna climbed onto the bed, stretching out by Robbin's side, her legs bumping against his. He barely moved, just inclined his head ever so slightly toward her. She reached for his hand, pulling it to rest on her lap.

"She could have killed you," she said, staring at the window on the far wall.

Robbin nodded mutely.

Adair could very well have ruined everything that Brenna had worked towards. Within a few days Brenna could have fallen all the way back down to the useless existence she'd come from, and all due to her sister. Anger burbled up like a hotspring, drawing Brenna's face into a frown.

"With the North out of the question now, we'll have to figure out some new plan," Robbin said, his voice heavy. "Maybe the barbarians can be convinced to join our side despite their former allegiance with Revours. It's not likely, but... I can't think with this headache."

Brenna tilted to kiss his temple, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Just rest, darling," she said. "We'll try with Adair one last time, but I'll travel with you. Hopefully she will not be so fast with her deadly ice if she sees a familiar face. We can still gain passage to the Ice Isles."

"I hope so," Robbin said. "It's been so long since I can last remember being at peace. I'd like to have that again. No more fighting." His voice trailed off as he spoke, lengthening and stretching until she could barely hear him. His energy dwindled down, heading for that lowland of sleep. His hand slackened in hers, his breathing evening out.

She would have the servants bring in some food and water later, but for now she sat silently tucked by his side, his cheek resting on the top of her head and his breath stirring her hair ever so gently.