Realm of the Chosen: A Reverse Harem Romance

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Eli rushed his men along, fearful that one of the Queen’s Guards or someone else would realize what they had done. With his handkerchief over Jecob’s private area, there was little he could do to stop the bleeding from his own hand, and since he’d sliced a little more deeply than he’d intended, the blood was continuing to flow down his pant leg as he tried to conceal the wound. He just hoped no one would notice that either. Perhaps if anyone did, they would assume he’d been sprayed by the severed appendage, though it would be easy to see that couldn’t be the case with even a quick inspection of what lay beneath the covering over Jecob.

His men had served him well, stepping in to shield his duplicity, and Jowl had even seemed grateful when he’d whispered his plan since hacking off a p***s and scrotum with an ax would be anything other than easy. Now, they rushed Jecob inside, and Armant would carry through with the queen’s demand, but it would be at a much slower pace where the physician could be sure to stop the bleeding as he went along. There was still a good chance Jecob would die, but at least he’d have the opportunity to fight through the unfortunate sentencing. Before, there was no way he would have made it off of that riser alive. Eli wasn’t sure if the prisoner had passed out from fear or if he really thought he’d been chopped to bits, but he was certainly out of it as his men made their way through the underground tunnel on their way to the infirmary.

They rushed along, Armant running ahead to ready his operating area and find the one nurse he said he thought he could trust with the secret. Eli hadn’t been sure if the physician would be more loyal to the queen’s demands or to saving Jecob’s life, but he’d been pleasantly surprised when Armant had gone along with his scheme. If Rona ever found out, Eli would no doubt be the next person to place part of his anatomy on the public chopping block.

Rushing through the doors of the infirmary, his men placed Jecob down on the table Armant had ready for him, and the physician immediately administered a mixture of opium and lard which transitioned Jecob from a faint state of unconsciousness to a twilight slumber that should keep him from feeling the effects of the surgery. Armant enlisted a couple of Eli’s men to help him collect the other supplies he would need, and the nurse he trusted, an older woman Eli knew well by the name of Bea, brought plenty of water and towels. Clearly, there would be a lot of blood.

Armant pulled back the bloodied rag and prepared to make his first incision, and most of the men, including Eli, had to look away. A few of his colleagues even grabbed themselves as they imagined being the ones lying on the table. He decided now was as good a time as ever to find something to stop his own bleeding and looked around for a cloth to wrap around his palm.

“How is he?” The sound of Kit’s voice startled him as he turned to see her flying in the door. “Is he alive? Did he bleed to death?”

Eli went over to her, stopping her from approaching the operating table, but he didn’t want to get blood all over her gown, so he could only grab her gently with one hand. “He’s all right. The physician is working on him now. Step away, Princess.” He didn’t want her to see what they’d done and make her an accomplice to their crime, but she was standing up on her tiptoes, trying to peer over his shoulder.

“I expected more blood,” she said as Eli tried harder to pull her away. “He sounded as if he was in horrible pain.”

“True, he did,” Eli admitted, though he couldn’t quite say why. “Kit, why are you here? If your mother finds out….”

He had her attention then. A worried look crossed her face but then dissipated. She answered, “She won’t. She’s too busy speaking to everyone who thinks she is a great and merciful sovereign now.” Kit dropped her eyes to the floor and then stepped back, alarmed. “My goddess! You’re bleeding!”

“Oh, it’s nothing but a little scratch,” Eli insisted, but she was not convinced. He saw what had tipped her off, a small puddle of blood on the floor near his boot.

Kit took hold of his hand and turned it over. “A little scratch? What happened? You need to be stitched up.”

“I’m fine.”

The princess wasn’t accepting his answer, and she began to pull him off across the room, toward another area where Armant had a surgical table set up. “Nonsense,” she insisted. “Sit.”

Feeling as if he had no choice, Eli did as he was told and watched her head across the room in search of the supplies she would need to fix his hand. She came back a few seconds later with a bone needle, thread, and some towels and then left again, mumbling about water, and despite the pain he was beginning to feel in his hand, and the fact that a man was having his necessities removed just across the room, Eli couldn’t help but smile at her.

“All right,” Kit said as she returned with a bowl of water, her tone very authoritative. “Rest your hand up here, and let me have a look.”

He complied, placing his forearm on a higher table next to where he was sitting. “Really, Kit, it will be fine.”

“It will not be fine. You’ve opened it clear to the muscle. Look.”

Following her orders, Eli took a glance and realized it was much deeper than he’d intended. His stomach lurched a little bit as he peered inside his own hand, and then the pain really set in. “All right. Maybe it’s a little deep.”

Kit was shaking her head as she struggled to keep the blood away from the surface. She had the needle threaded already and straightened his palm the best she could. “Hold it steady.” She took her first stitch, and the sensation was a pinch of pain, mixed with a tickle from the thread, but when he glanced down, he could see she was adequate at doctoring and didn’t protest. “How did this happen?”

Lying to Kit always made him feel awful, but he couldn’t afford to tell her the truth. If the queen found out, and Kit knew about the falsehood, she could also be in for a severe punishment. “I’m not sure. There was so much happening.”

She raised an eyebrow, seeing right through him. “Um hmm.” She shook her head slowly and then turned back to her work.

He knew she was suspicious, but he decided not to say more. The last thing he’d ever want would be to get Kit into trouble with the queen.

The princess was standing so close to him, and the scent of her, lavender and honey, mixed with a tinge of her own unique perspiration, made him want to move closer to her still. He watched quietly as she worked, trying to keep his thoughts as wholesome as possible but failing miserably.

“The light is poor over here,” she said, bringing him back to reality. “Maybe if I….” She moved so that she was standing between his legs, leaning over the table, her neck hovering just in front of his face, and it took every bit of will power he had within him not to reach over and gently place his lips on that warm alabaster skin. “That’s better.”

His breath must’ve been tickling her because she giggled, looked over at him out of the corner of her eye, and then stretched her neck away. “Pardon me, princess” he said, hearing the huskiness in his own voice. “It’s only… you smell lovely.”

“You smell like blood and sweat,” she said, glancing at him again. She studied his hand for a few seconds before she added, “And leather, and that calming scent that lets me know when you are always nearby.”

He took that as a compliment. He’d known for years that she could detect him that way, through a deep breath, and he’d hoped that his presence had served to calm her in times when she otherwise would’ve been beside herself. A few instances came to mind, one in particular, but not an incident he cared to dwell on, especially when she was standing so near to him now, her abdomen pressed against his knee. If she had any idea the effect she had on him, she didn’t show it. He felt his manhood hardening beneath his trousers and thought he needed to put some distance between them if he was to save his sanity.

“You know he would’ve never done this for you,” Kit murmured, her stitches now running almost halfway up his palm. They were small, like the ones she used for her embroidery, but he’d rather have clean, careful stitches than large ghastly ones.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Jecob. He would’ve never cut his own hand open so that it appeared as if you were bleeding in order to attempt to save your life. He would’ve laughed hysterically as Jowl took his best swings.”

So she’d figured them out. He wasn’t too surprised. After all, Kit was the cleverest person he knew. Eli thought back to the insult Jecob had hurled at him during the slingball match, one about his mother, and shook the thought away. Kit was right, of course. Jecob wouldn’t have done this for him or anyone.

“I didn’t do it for Jecob,” he said quietly, and once again she turned to face him. “I did it for you.”

She stared at him for a moment before she closed her blue eyes, not moving, and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, she said nothing, only slowly turned her head so that she could see what she was working on, and he imagined there were things she could not say.

Kit paused in her sewing to wipe away more blood and then picked up the needle again. A glance across the room told him no one was paying them any mind, and unable to help himself any longer, he reached up and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, letting his fingertips trace down her neck, just brushing against her soft skin. She acted as if she hadn’t even noticed, though he could see a blush rising up her cheeks.

“Are you leaving soon?” she asked as he settled his hand on his knee.

“Yes, as soon as I can. Everything is set to go.”

“Aeros is ready to leave again? Won’t he miss that filly in the barn, the one he’s so fond of?”

He chuckled, thinking he had a lot in common with his horse. “I am sure he will, but we will be back in a few days.”

Kit turned to look at him momentarily before swiveling to put in another stitch. She was nearly finished. “Do you think she’ll let you stay?”

“I do.”

“Why would she?” Kit asked, placing what was likely the next to last stitch. “She seems to prefer it when you’re gone.”

“Clearly, she is also fond of torture.”

That had her attention, and he thought perhaps he’d said too much. She turned to face him, though, setting the bone needle down on the table. He glanced over her shoulder. No one was watching. “Eli…” she bit her bottom lip.

“You don’t have to say anything, Princess.”

“I feel like I do.”

“No, you don’t.” He wanted to touch her, to pull her even closer, to inhale her, but she wasn’t his and never would be, couldn’t be.

“You risked your life today to save someone who wouldn’t do the same for you—because of me.”

“I would do anything for you, Kit. Anything.”

She swallowed hard. “Would you?”

“So long as it didn’t put you in danger as well, yes.”

“Would you run away with me, right now? Leave this place and never look back?”

There was a lilt to her voice that made it difficult to distinguish whether or not she was teasing or hopeful. “I said anything that wouldn’t endanger you, Princess. That would be a foolhardy scheme that could cost us both our heads.”

“But if it wouldn’t? If you knew we couldn’t get caught, would you go?”

Of course he would, there was nothing more he’d rather do than take her away from her dreadful mother, from this ridiculous method of finding a husband. But there was no reason to wish for something he could not have. “I believe you have another stitch, my Lady.”

She held his eyes longer than necessary and then turned back to his hand to make the final stitch. With the precision of an artisan, she made a knot and cut the thread. “I’ll need to fetch some salve.”

He wanted to protest, to leap down from the table and leave before he could no longer find the resolve to do so, but he was already unable to find the will to make his feet move, so he waited for her to return with a small jar in her hand.

She scooped up a generous portion and rubbed it gently over the cut, her stitches having done the job of completely stopping the bleeding. “Will you see your mother or your sister? Can one of them treat this for you, or shall I send this jar with you?”

“I will see them,” he assured her, thinking she shouldn’t send the entire jar with him when Armant might need it for something else.

Kit nodded and set the jar aside, wiping her finger on a rag before finding a clean one and tearing it into a strip. “Let me wrap it up.” She went about making sure it was covered. “Be careful not to use it if you can help it. At least it wasn’t your right hand.”

“I did think it through a little.”

She looked at him and smiled, as if to say she didn’t think he was a complete imbecile. “You’ll need to do some stretching to make sure the skin stays loose. You don’t want it to scar so badly that your hand stays fisted.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Oh, am I telling you information you already know?” she asked, giving him a playful shove in the shoulder. “Should I have let you sew it up yourself as well?”

He didn’t mention that he had insisted she not bother—especially now that she had—and he was glad for it. “No, Your Highness. Thank you.”

She had been standing next to him again, but now, she turned to look over her shoulder, and when she was certain no one was watching, she repositioned herself so that she was between his knees once more, and he felt his abdomen tighten again. “Be careful.”

“I always am.” He moved so that his hands might appear to be resting on his knees, but he could feel her hips through the fabric of her dress, and she placed her hands on his shoulders. Slowly, Kit leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, taking a deep breath as she did so.

“I know you won’t kiss me because it could cost us both our heads,” she whispered. “But I remember the time that you did. It seems like ages ago.”

“It was, Princess.” They were treading on very thin ice, and he realized he needed to go now before he went too far. “Kit… you have some fine men out there waiting for you. You’ll find a good one; I know you will.”

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. With one more deep breath, she stepped back, putting a good two steps breadth between them. “You’re right. I do. And this is as it must be.”

“As it should be.” He didn’t really believe that, not for a moment, but there was no changing it. Eli scooted off of the edge of the table and came to his feet, thinking the quicker he left Wrenbrook, the better. “Be careful going back to your chambers.”

“Don’t worry. I took the passage,” she said, and his eyes widened. “I know. Forbidden.”

He could only shake his head at her. She had a secret passage that led from her chambers to another room just down the hallway from the infirmary. It was a safe room, one she was only supposed to use if threatened. Her mother would be outraged if she knew the princess had used the passage because someone might see where it let out, and only Kit and a few other people knew how it operated, including Eli because he was the commander of her guard. Rona had made it clear she didn’t want anyone trying to access her chamber through the secret passage.

“I shall see you soon,” he said, briskly walking toward the door, avoiding looking in Jecob’s direction.

“Be safe,” Kit called after him, though she kept her voice down so as not to disturb the physician.

“Go back to your chambers!” he mouthed to her. Kit glanced at the others, saw they were distracted, and stuck her tongue out at him.

Covering his mouth so as not to laugh aloud, Eli headed into the hallway, thinking whoever she picked for her mate had better have a lot of life in him or else he’d never keep up. Eli hurried down the hall, and turning the corner, practically ran straight into Blankka.

“Oh, Commander, thank goodness,” the blonde said as he stepped away from her. “Have you seen the princess?”

“I’m certain she should be in her chambers.” He chose his words carefully.

“Yes, I know she should be, but I’m sure she’s not. You haven’t seen her?”

“Perhaps you should go check again. I’m certain she’s safe wherever she is, but I’m afraid I must be going.” He wanted to get away from Blankka before she said something to make both of them uncomfortable, but as he stepped forward, she reached out and grabbed hold of his arm.

“Eli, when you return, perhaps you shall take me up on that offer?”

“Blankka…” he began, letting out a deep sigh. “I’ve told you. While, I appreciate the invitation, I’m just not comfortable.”

Her bottom lip protruded, an expression Eli found adorable when Kit did it, but it just looked immature on Blankka. “You know she can never be yours, don’t you? Has that not sunk in?”

“Please, Blankka, I need to go.” He didn’t have time to argue with her now, not that it was ever pleasant to do so.

“You do understand that the queen has vowed to make me a noblewoman? I am in the princess’s service to prove my loyalty, and then, once the queen is assured of my devotion, she will make me a duchess.”

“I am sure you will make a fine noblewoman,” he replied, once again trying to politely free himself.

A smile that was more like a sneer broke over her pretty face. “Once I have a title, you will no longer be able to refuse me. Why not accept my offer now so that you don’t find yourself in a position where you are called upon to perform an act you might regret?”

Eli arched an eyebrow at her, unable to see the difference between consenting to lying with her now when he didn’t want to or waiting until later to do so, when he was certain he still wouldn’t want to. Perhaps she was attempting to make another threat, something he wasn’t quite grasping. “Blankka, the queen has ordered me to return to Eastbury for the re-election. I need to go.”

She released him then but didn’t end her petition. “Very well. We shall discuss it when you return.”

Resolved to do whatever he could to leave, Eli nodded at her and then proceeded down the hallway as fast as he could go without running, hoping that, in the meantime, the princess had managed to return to her chambers and that when Jecob awoke and found he only had a small tube left through which he could urinate he knew precisely who he could thank that he was still alive.