Sequel: The Game ›
Status: complete, but revisions are being made
The Pauper Princess
Chapter Thirteen
A knock sounds from the other side of the thick wooden door. Ekohl turns and opens it. An elderly woman pushes past him, coming straight toward me. She squints as she unwraps some bandages and inspects my head, and then pushes the blanket down to check my shoulder and ribs. Looking down, I realize that other than the bandages that wrap my shoulder and chest, my torso is completely exposed. My cheeks burn and I look to where Ekohl was standing, but he is no longer there.
“You’re lucky, girl,” the old healer says after thoroughly checking my wounds. I get the first good look at my shoulder as she lifts the bandage. There’s a large scar where the bandit stabbed me, and then a shallower jagged wound up to the top of my shoulder, presumably from me falling. “That sword should have killed you. Normally the bandits would keep women alive for… well, with the way you were dressed they must have mistook you for a man.” I could feel my cheeks heat slightly at this, wondering what she thought of the way I was dressed.
“If your friend hadn’t patched you up so quick,” she continued quickly, noticing my discomfort on the subject, “my help would have been useless.” I look to Mehta, who gives me a humble smile. I find myself grateful that she was the servant of a healer and not some cook or dressmaker.
“How long should I wait before I can get up?” I ask, turning back to the woman.
“Well, you’ve been out for about a week, but I suppose if you’re feeling up to it you could move a bit. Usually wounds that serious would take much longer to heal. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were one of them magic-working elves.” The old woman chuckled at her own joke. I hesitantly laughed along at first, but that caused an immediate reaction from my sore ribs.
“Well, I leave you girls alone. Got to check on your other friends.” As soon as the door closed behind the healer, I begin interrogating Mehta.
“Where are we?”
“An inn. The owner is allowing us to stay free of charge, so I assume she doesn’t know we’re from Kyshia. One of the guards said they think I’m a traveling noblewoman. If the Lequinian soldiers knew anything about our origins, they didn’t let on. After killing the rest of the bandits, they brought us to this small farming community and returned to the Wall.”
“Which- I mean who’s still…” I trailed off, not knowing how to ask my question.
“Only three of the guards survived,” she said sadly. “One had a broken leg, and the other just minor cuts that are already healed. And Ekohl, he had a deep gash on his left arm. It went all the way to the bone.” I wondered about Ekohl’s wound, but suddenly another thought struck me.
“What are we still doing here?”
“Well, we were waiting for you to wake up. We sent word to the capital, but that was five days ago. So far nothing’s come of it.”
So here we are, a broken band of Kyshians stranded in a small Lequinian town. Hopefully we can continue to keep our origins a secret. There is no telling what could happen if this small town of isolated Lequinians learns of their enemy has been taking charity from them.
“You’re lucky, girl,” the old healer says after thoroughly checking my wounds. I get the first good look at my shoulder as she lifts the bandage. There’s a large scar where the bandit stabbed me, and then a shallower jagged wound up to the top of my shoulder, presumably from me falling. “That sword should have killed you. Normally the bandits would keep women alive for… well, with the way you were dressed they must have mistook you for a man.” I could feel my cheeks heat slightly at this, wondering what she thought of the way I was dressed.
“If your friend hadn’t patched you up so quick,” she continued quickly, noticing my discomfort on the subject, “my help would have been useless.” I look to Mehta, who gives me a humble smile. I find myself grateful that she was the servant of a healer and not some cook or dressmaker.
“How long should I wait before I can get up?” I ask, turning back to the woman.
“Well, you’ve been out for about a week, but I suppose if you’re feeling up to it you could move a bit. Usually wounds that serious would take much longer to heal. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were one of them magic-working elves.” The old woman chuckled at her own joke. I hesitantly laughed along at first, but that caused an immediate reaction from my sore ribs.
“Well, I leave you girls alone. Got to check on your other friends.” As soon as the door closed behind the healer, I begin interrogating Mehta.
“Where are we?”
“An inn. The owner is allowing us to stay free of charge, so I assume she doesn’t know we’re from Kyshia. One of the guards said they think I’m a traveling noblewoman. If the Lequinian soldiers knew anything about our origins, they didn’t let on. After killing the rest of the bandits, they brought us to this small farming community and returned to the Wall.”
“Which- I mean who’s still…” I trailed off, not knowing how to ask my question.
“Only three of the guards survived,” she said sadly. “One had a broken leg, and the other just minor cuts that are already healed. And Ekohl, he had a deep gash on his left arm. It went all the way to the bone.” I wondered about Ekohl’s wound, but suddenly another thought struck me.
“What are we still doing here?”
“Well, we were waiting for you to wake up. We sent word to the capital, but that was five days ago. So far nothing’s come of it.”
So here we are, a broken band of Kyshians stranded in a small Lequinian town. Hopefully we can continue to keep our origins a secret. There is no telling what could happen if this small town of isolated Lequinians learns of their enemy has been taking charity from them.