These Gilded Seas

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Living Shrapnel

Which wouldn't be odd if he didn't have a pair of legs where his tail used to be.

Ignoring the searing pain in my side, I scramble across the sludge towards him.

"Finn—Oh my gods, Finn!"

It takes more effort than I thought I had to shift him over onto his back. He moans in pain, but all that does is make me exuberant.

He's alive.

"It's going to be okay, Finny. I promise. I'll—I'll get you to the palace. I will." The words fly out of my mouth as I wipe mud and filth off him. It's like he's been wallowing in stagnant water for days. Is this what it was like in the vial? Has he been suffering the entire time?

Well, it can't have been pleasant, idiot.

When most of the grime has been wiped off, I search his emaciated frame for injuries. Other than some light bruising along his ribs and arms, he seems to be in one place. But he's still naked. I can't carry him up to the castle like this.

If I'm being honest with myself, I'm not sure I can carry him at all. I'm completely drained.

But I'll drag him if I have to. Finn is going to make it. He has to.

Gritting my teeth once again, I push myself up and limp over to William's body. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I strip off his uniform shirt. On Finn, it'll be like a dress, but it will have to suffice. I drape the shirt over my friend's back and force his arms into the sleeves. He never even opens his eyes.

Once Finn's clothed sufficiently, I drag myself to another guard and strip his shirt off for me. I'd like to think I'm covering up because I'm cold, but really, it's because I don't want Amaia to panic when she sees the filth covering my dress. William's was covered in blood, but this one is only mildly stained by mud. It's so clean that I start to wonder what killed him, but a quick glance around his body reveals a gash across his throat.

Vomit rises up in my throat, and I hurriedly turn so that I don't spew it all over his poor guard. The muscles in my stomach jerk and tighten, causing me to retch even harder. Nothing comes up, though. I've nothing left to give.

As I straighten again and resume trying to unbutton his shirt with unsteady hands, I notice fresh blood seeping through my dress. Carefully, I lift the fabric up and inspect the gaping stab wound in my stomach. It sits slightly to the right, so hopefully Zula missed any major organs, but the skin around the entry hole is red hot and puckered. As I watch, blood runs down my hip and onto my thigh. If I leave it open, I'll bleed to death before the sun reaches its highest point.

I'm going to have to stanch the flow somehow.

Trembling like a sail caught in a violent wind, I lower my dress again and finish removing the guard's shirt. Then, I tie it around my waist like a belt, tugging it as hard as I possibly can. The pressure makes me cry out, but I keep tightening. Blackness pools at the corners of my vision. Dizziness creeps in.

Focus. You have to get Finn to safety.

It's my fault he's here, so I have to get him home.

He's my responsibility.

Panting from the energy I've used, I knot the shirt on my unwounded hip and shuffle to the next fallen guard. Luckily, he's laying on his side, so it's easy to strip off his shirt and put it on me instead.

I make my way back over to Finn and kneel down beside him.

"Come on, Finny. You're gonna have to help me, okay?" My voice is a flickering candle, a final star as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Every breath causes me pain; every movement makes me ache.