The Fated Curse

Chapter 10

Gideon

My men lifted me off of the ground and carried me towards the aid tents. As they carried me away, I could not take my eyes from Rick's body lying there on the ground. My eyes remained locked on the path behind me even when he was long out of sight. It didn't seem real. It was like, at any moment, he would walk up to me and ask me what I would like him to do next. He was always on top of every task I gave him. Always had my back. I didn't tell him enough how much I valued him. And I would not have the opportunity to remedy that.

My men carried me to a private tent and laid me on a bed. We had set up temporary accommodations at the aid encampment to deal with non-critical injuries. The hospital was already at capacity, so we sent critical cases there and housed minor injuries here. This war was proving far more strenuous than we were prepared for. A warrior laid a hand on my shoulder and said something I didn't hear before leaving.

Several nurses and medics tried to tend to my injuries, but I kept ordering them away. I know my wounds needed to be tended to, but I wanted to sit in the pain. I deserved the pain. After I sent a fourth medic away, my father came into the tent and sat next to me on the bed.

"If you keep sending them away you will force me to command you to get treatment. In your condition, it will be painful if I did so."

I didn't respond. He sighed. "Son, if you don't get your wounds treated, Rick's sacrifice would have been for nothing."

"He shouldn't have died!" I bellowed in frustration.

"I know son, but he died an honorable death. There is no greater honor than dying to protect his prince."

"Our men should never die for us. We serve them not the other way around. My life is the one that should have been forfeit, not his."

"I know I won't be able to stop this spiral, but you must be treated."

"Get out!"

My father sighed and let me be. I heard him say to one of the nurses, "If he still refuses treatment, sedate him. He will be tended to whether he likes it or not."

My body was beginning to regain feeling, the effects of the paralytic slowly fading. If they so much as tried to stick me with a needle, I would stop them. I heard another person enter the room and I prepared myself for the needle. Instead, I heard a loud bang as someone slammed a suture tray down on the table next to me.

"I hear you have been a stubborn-headed ass."

I turned my head to see Valencia standing next to me, hand on her hips, looking at me disapprovingly.

"Go away." I mumbled. She was the last person I wanted to see while I was so pathetic.

"Hot chance. Now stop being an i***t and let me treat you."

"I said go away!"

She just raised an eyebrow. "You will learn that I am terrible at taking orders."

I rolled my eyes. "I won't let you touch me."

"I think I could take you. I am a pretty good warrior on a normal day. Add that your body is still mostly numb. Hot chance you would be the victor."

"Is that a challenge?"

"A promise." I sighed. She had a good point. A regular nurse I could take, but after having seen her fight that last time, I wouldn't stand a chance in my current condition.

"Fine." I relented. She got to work quickly assessing the s***h across my chest and the other minor wounds, determining what to tackle first.

"The stitching is gonna hurt on a wound this large. You want an anesthetic or a shot of whiskey?"

"Whiskey?"

"Honestly, you look like you could use it."

"Whiskey it is. Nothing else though. I want to feel the pain." She nodded and helped me sit up. I hadn't noticed the bottle of whiskey on her suture tray until just then. "You carry that around with you?"

"This is war. A shot does a lot for the wounded. Sometimes even better than any medicine. Takes the edge of the day away. Here." She held the bottle to my lips and tilted my head back, so I could take a swig. I swallowed it down and could feel the burning travel from my throat down into my stomach before warming my body. Then she laid me back down. She began stitching up the gash in my chest.

"So you want to tell me what pity party you are throwing right now that you think you deserve to be in pain?" I stayed quiet for a moment, and then she pulled hard on a stitch, causing me to wince. I knew that was intentional. I scowled.

"What? You were the one who said you wanted to feel the pain. Just thought I would help." I gave her a stink eye, and she chuckled.

"My friend died."

"I heard. Rick was it? Your head warrior?"

"Yes."

"And why does his death mean that you deserve to feel pain?"

"Because... It should have been me."

"Correction, it was meant to be you. Why does him choosing to take your place mean you should be punished?"

"Because I should have been smarter. I had told my warriors not to play the hero and try and take the demon on alone and there I was thinking I was the exception. If I had just decided to fight in pairs like I instructed all my men to do. No one would have needed to die."

"So your arrogance got him killed."

"Yes."

"Fair enough. Then, he is dead because of you." My eyes went wide at her statement. I wasn't expecting her to agree with me. "Why are you surprised? You are determined to take fault for his death. Nothing anyone says will convince you otherwise. So own it. Do not throw your life away. Spend every day for the rest of your life, however long, or however short, trying to balance the scales and make up for the life you stole. You owe him that. Withering away now is selfish and a disgrace to his sacrifice."

Her words cut me like a knife. And yet, at the same time, her words were oddly comforting. I didn't need soft words of encouragement or someone to convince me I was being ridiculous. I needed the validation. I needed to be held accountable. This she-wolf always had a knack for seeing right through me.

She continued to stitch me up in silence. She wasn't gentle, but she knew I needed her not to be. By the time she finished, the paralytic was mostly gone from my system. She cleaned up her supplies and was about to leave the room but turned back towards me. She sat on the bed next to me, then pulled my head to rest on her shoulder and stroked her fingers through my hair. The action caught me off guard.

"You need to feel pain, I get that. And you need to make amends, which you have the rest of your life to do. But you also have the right to grieve."

I stiffened for a moment and then, a damn I hadn't realized I was holding back, spilled forth. I held on to her and weeped. I couldn't tell you the last time I truly cried. But I held on to her tight and let out all of my anguish. She didn't say anything, no words of comfort, just held me while I mourned. I didn't need her to say anything. I just needed a safe space to feel.

The tidal wave calmed to gentle waves of grief. I took a moment to compose myself before I pulled away from her.

"Thank you," I said. She nodded and went to leave. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards me. Before I could process what I was doing, I pressed my lips to hers.