Broken Aro (The Broken Ones) (12 page)

"Aro."

His voice sounded distant, foggy. She opened her eyes
a little. "Mmm?"

"How are you?"

What a foolish question. "Wet. Cold. Tired."
That summed up the main points.

"We're coming up on the rocks. The currents there
will make things a bit bumpy. Keep your head up."

At least he had good news though. The rocks had been
at least halfway to shore. So they were headed in the right direction and
getting closer. Maybe they would even make it...and then…what?

He twisted suddenly and she hung on as they reached a
current and the waves sucked and spun them, dragging them this way and that
with a growing ferocity. She held on more tightly, her numb hands in fists
behind him.

She didn't see what struck her so suddenly and so
painfully her vision blurred and pain shot through her head. She blinked and
closed her eyes against it, but the stabbing pain didn't fade and she could
feel a strange warmth sliding down one side of her forehead.

"Aro?"

"I'm fine," she whispered and turned her
face so her cheek pressed against his, wanting to shield her face from whatever
else floated dangerously on the waves.

They turned suddenly. His hands tightened around her.
He banged up against something, jarring them both, making him stiffen. They
spun away, only to hit something else, and then again.

It took her a while to figure out he kept turning
them, over and over, so he would be the one who hit the rocks. He was
protecting her. She didn't understand why, but silently thanked him for it.

She did not go unscathed; a few times the angle they
hit caused the back of her hands to scrape along the rocks. It stung, but didn't
really hurt. She knew it should have, that it would later, but her hands had
just become too numb to feel anything.

They banged their way through the rocks until finally
they were free and floating quietly again. Her mind was numb, everything was
numb.

His face pressed against hers. "You mustn't
sleep."

She made a muffled sound of agreement, too cold and
too tired to speak.

"We are almost there. You can sleep on the beach,
but not here," His voice grew angrier when she didn't respond and he shook
her. "Don't you dare fall asleep!"

Tears came again. He was angry with her. He was always
angry with her. He continued to yell at her, his voice a distant rumble in her
ear. She wanted to answer him, but just couldn't. Everything felt too heavy,
too cold and dark. Had he let her go and she had started sinking again?

She didn't even have the energy to care.

Chapter 9

Alone with a Prince

Everything hurt. She remained motionless and in pain,
trying not to move, hoping the pain would go away. It didn't, and eventually
she cracked open her eyes, wincing at the brightness.

Tears welled and she blinked rapidly. Her eyes felt
gritty and she let the tears come, trying to blink the salt and sand from them.

They cleared after a time and she stared off to the
side, vaguely noting the beach and that it ended some distance away, cut off by
ragged outcrops of rock. A blurry dark shape moved by the rocks. She blinked
and the strange shadowy form disappeared.

Her fingers curled. She winced at the pain the simple
motion caused on the backs of her hands. She raised her head slightly as her
mind started to clear and where she was sank in.

They'd made it to the beach.

She was sprawled half across Prince. Her cheek rested
on his chest with her hands on either side of her head. Lowering her face again,
relief flooded her as she felt his warmth and the slow rise and fall of his
chest.

Was he asleep? Unconscious? She could feel his hands
resting warmly low on her back, unmoving. They had survived.

She closed her eyes. Exhaustion overcame her. She let
the sound of the waves lapping the shore and the
bump, bump
of his
steady heart beat beneath her lull her back to sleep.

* * *

She awoke again to a faint crackling sound. Light
flickered against her eyelids. Hot and cold assaulted her simultaneously. She
shivered and curled herself up into a tight ball.

As awareness slowly came back to her, she remembered
Prince had moved her. She recalled him speaking to her quietly, carrying her
gently, and later untangling their chains from each other.

Opening her eyes she saw the flickering light and the
crackling sound came from the small fire a short distance from her. The fire
gave her the warmth, the cold came from the stone she rested upon.

She sat up slowly, wincing as everything still hurt,
and her mind seemed foggy. For a moment she sat very still as everything spun.
Once she found her balance again she looked around in the light of the fire and
was surprised to find herself in a cave.

Not quite a cave. It looked like water had cut
sections out of rock. Prince had moved them to a ledge. She crawled forward,
looking around. Erosion had left tiers throughout the cave, as well as a series
of small pools and a small flowing stream. To her left she could see the rock
opening to the sea, and a little to the side stretched an opening that led to
the beach. To her right the rock continued, and she stood and followed the
ledge until it ended and she hopped down to a lower one, it did not go far
before she came to a large pool. Above it rose the forest ridge she'd seen
before, a small waterfall gently falling from it.

She knelt at the pools edge. Her chains clanked and
rattled in the quiet. She certainly wouldn't be sneaking up on anyone anytime
soon. Cupping water with her hands, she drank deeply, wincing as her hands
stung. It wasn't yet dark out, but looked to be getting close. She had more
than enough light to see the backs of her hands, the skin scraped raw and weeping,
cut deeply in a few places. She grimaced and stuck them in the water, swishing
them around, hoping that would be enough to clean them.

"Aro!"

She looked up at the sound of her name as it echoed
sharply through the stone.

"I'm here," she said, more quietly than she
intended, but her voice didn't seem to want to be working.

He still heard her, as a moment later Prince came into
view, a tight frown across his face. She sat back as he made his way to her
side and bit her lip. Why was he frowning now? She hadn't done anything!

He crouched down when he reached her and leaned
forward, pressing his cheek to her forehead.

She pushed him away. "What are you doing?"

He frowned again. "You've had a fever. I see it
finally broke."

"Oh." A blush spread across her cheeks.

He stood suddenly and with more grace than she'd ever have,
slipped along the ledges and around a corner by the pool. How he moved so
gracefully in chains she had no idea. A moment later he came back, arms full.

She looked at him questioningly as he set down what
looked like a pile of clothes and two large bowl-shaped shells. One nearly overflowed
with something purple and sweet smelling.

"What's all of this?"

He held up the bowl with the sweet stuff in it. "Today
I gathered roots, berries, and so forth from the woods." He smiled
slightly. "This should help your wounds."

She leaned forward to look at the gooey substance. "You
made that?" He nodded. "Do I eat it?"

He smiled slightly and shook his head.

He should smile more. It certainly looks much better
than his scowl.

"I scavenged some cloth. It will likely be
needed. I washed them as well as I could. I believe they are dry now."

She raised her eyebrows. "You made medicine, and
you did laundry? How long have I been sick for?"

The frown came back and he looked away, adjusting the
pile of cloth. "We reached shore early yesterday. You succumbed to one of
the sicknesses on the ship I believe. When I woke, you had already become lost in
the fever. Delirious. I did not think you would make it through the night."

She stared at him, not quite certain what to say. He
looked very uncomfortable, and she wasn't quite sure why. "Thank you,"
she said finally. "For taking care of me."

He nodded once, sharply. A quick, fake smile crossed
his face. "Well, let me look at your hands."

She put a hand in his and watched him examine it. He
rinsed it in more water, dabbed at it with a piece of cloth and proceeded to
carefully cover the wounds in a thin layer of the purple mixture.

"Why didn't you do this earlier?"

He frowned again. "I did clean them as best I
could." He glanced up at her. "I just finished gathering the
ingredients."

"Think I'd die and didn't want to waste your
time?"

"Do not even think such things," he said
softly.

She held in a smile as he finished her other hand. He
just looked so serious, his brows drawn slightly together. She could almost
picture him sticking his tongue out a little as he concentrated.

He chuckled suddenly and released her hand. "Do
not get used to this."

She smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He looked up and grinned at her, and it was such a
boyish, sweet smile it made her breath catch. Flustered, she looked away, her
gaze falling on the pile of cloth. She paled suddenly, as what they were, where
they had come from finally registered.

Scavenged he had said. From dead washed up on shore.
Gah!
Her stomach twisted at the image. Why did she have to be reminded about what
had happened?

"Aro? What's wrong?"

She looked away from the pile and shook her head
quickly. "Nothing."

"Let me look at your head."

She tilted her head, allowing him to better see the
cut she knew was on the side of her forehead. "Is it bad?"

He gave a little shrug as he cleaned it. "It is
deep. Long. It should be stitched. You will have a scar, but your hair should
hide most of it."

"Perfect," she muttered. She wasn't pretty
to begin with, and now both her hands and face would be scarred.

He began spreading on the paste. "This will help
quite a bit. It will both kill any infection already there, and prevent further
ones from occurring. It will also pull the wound together somewhat as it dries."

"If you say so."

"I do." He smiled slightly. "Leave it
be, until it turns almost white, and begins flaking off on its own." He
sat back and looked at her hands. "I think I will wrap your hands though.
It will help protect them."

She grimaced slightly, but nodded and tried not to
watch as he ripped strips and carefully wrapped her hands. "You know what
you're doing, too," she commented quietly.

He smiled again slightly.

"How is your arm?"

He looked down at it. "Fine."

He had finished with her hands. "Let me see."
He didn't protest as she took his arm and undid everything. The wrappings were
wet and she set them aside to examine his arm. It seemed to be healing well. It
hadn't become swollen or turned any strange colors. Prince handed her more
ripped cloth and she carefully re-wrapped his arm and put the greave back on.

She noticed suddenly, through the rips in his shirt, purple
paste streaked up the outside of his arms, from shoulder down to his elbow.
Memories of the sea and the rocks, of crashing and pain skittered through her
mind. Clenching her jaw tightly for a moment, she pushed the memories away.

She frowned suddenly. "How's your back?"

He opened his mouth slightly, closed it again and sighed.
"Will you look at it?"

She nodded and he turned. The back of his shirt was in
tatters. Brownish stains covered large areas, causing her to grimace. She
gently raised the bottom of his shirt up to sit on his shoulders. She cursed
the chains again. If they were gone he could have just taken the shirt off.

When she finally saw his back, curses erupted loudly
from her mouth before she could stop herself.

"Is it that bad?"

Tears formed and escaped as words caught in her
throat. She sat back, her hands to her mouth. He looked like he had been
whipped. His back was shredded and cut into ribbons. Patches of skin hung
loosely across his back. The rest had been scraped completely raw.

"Aro?"

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to
steady herself. "It's messy," she finally answered. How could he sit
there so still, so quiet? "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Very much," he said calmly.

Apparently, she didn't understand men at all. Or at
least not him.

She took another breath and leaned forward. He had
helped her, she would help him. Her conscience left her no choice in the matter.

It took a long time to clean it, to try to put pieces
back where they belonged, and keep them there while she applied the paste.
Breathing slowly helped keep her stomach from heaving. It was hard to
not
think about what she was doing. Tears continued to slide down her cheeks. He
was like this because of her. Because he'd protected her. Finally she finished
and wrapped the worst spots. Before he could turn around she quickly brushed
the tears from her cheeks. She couldn't do anything about her shaking hands.