Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Anastasia opened her eyes to notice that Cassius was not in the room. She groaned, sitting up on the bed. Looking down at her stomach, she noticed that she was healing slowly. Maybe it was because she didn't have enough blood. She stood up from the bed and slowly walked outside to find Cassius throwing punches at the wall.
"You're awake," he remarked, turning to face her. "How do you feel today?"
"I'm feeling better," she replied.
"You'll need to come with me back to the cabin," he instructed.
"Why?" she asked.
"So I can change the bandage before it gets infected," he explained.
"Cassius, don't you think it's time you went back to the people?" she asked.
"I will go at the right time," he replied.
"So now is not the right time?" She tilted her head, curious.
"You know the people are going to kill you if they see you, right?" He asked, walking closer to her.
"I know, but... wait... what are you trying to—" Cassius lifted her into his arms, interrupting her question.
"You can't go there on foot. It's far from here," he explained.
"And what would happen if the people see us together?" She questioned, her voice filled with concern.
"They won't," he replied. "No one lives around here."
"But you know that—" He cut her off, muttering under his breath as he took another step. "You talk too much."
"This is awkward," she mumbled to herself. She couldn't imagine being carried by the heir of the Blackwood Kingdom. What would the people say? They'll think he's smitten with her. She frowned, hoping her wound would heal quickly so she could return to the tower and serve her punishment.
When they arrived at the cabin, he gently set her down. She walked inside, her eyes scanning the place. Her gaze fell on the shattered glass on the ground, and memories began to flood her mind. She should have asked about her name.
"Lie down," he ordered, and she lay on the bed. He walked closer to her, examining the bandage. "Uhm... you'll need to take your shirt off," he instructed.
"What?" She looked at him with widened eyes.
"I can't treat your wound with your clothes on," he explained. "You can just draw it upward."
Anastasia hesitated, unwilling to remove her shirt. She didn't want him to see any part of her body.
"You'll get an infection," he warned.
Anastasia frowned, wondering if there was no other way. She didn't want to remove her shirt, but she also didn't want to catch an infection, which would make things worse and take weeks to heal. She took a deep breath before slowly drawing her shirt upward, then closed her eyes.
When she didn't feel him removing the bandage, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her body, his gaze fixed on her exposed skin.
She frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Uhm... I'm sorry... I was carried away," he whispered.
Sorry? Anastasia wanted to laugh. The Prince was sorry? Anastasia couldn't tell if he was drunk or talking to her with clear eyes. Why was he apologizing? He was the heir to the throne. He could even take her life here, and no one would question. She was just like a slave to him and wasn't worthy of his apology.
He slowly started to remove the old bandage. Anastasia groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. When she felt cold liquid on her wound, she screamed in pain. She gripped the edge of the iron bed, gasping. The pain was too much for her.
When he was done tending to her wound, he wrapped it with a new bandage.
"All done," he said, placing the scissors down.
"How did you learn how to tend to wounds?" She asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Was he a doctor in his previous life?
"My mom," he replied. "She was a nurse."
"Oh, really," she stared at him, surprised. She didn't know that the late Queen of Blackwood Kingdom was a nurse.
"My father met her during a war with another Kingdom," he explained. "You know, during wars, they would often send two to three nurses with the soldiers to the battlefield."
"He was shot with a wooden bullet, and my mom was the one tending to his wound until he was healed," he continued. "They fell in love and got married."
Anastasia didn't know what to say and just continued to stare at him.
"We should start heading back," he said, breaking the silence.
She pushed herself to stand up. Before she could take a step, Anastasia felt dizzy and started staggering. Before she could fall, he caught her in his arms. The two of them were staring at each other, eye to eye, their faces inches apart.
She saw Cassius part his lips and lean closer to her.
"What are you doing?" She asked, her voice laced with confusion. He shook his head, pulling himself backward, and turned around, starting to walk away.
She followed him, walking behind him back to the cabin, her pace slower than his. He had to come back to her and carry her again, which only added to her embarrassment.
When they arrived at the cabin, Cassius went out to hunt for some rabbit and made another soup for them. Anastasia was surprised that the Prince was managing such a simple meal without complaint. She eyed him from the corner as they slept, her gaze lingering on his profile.
The rain began to pour down, making Anastasia even colder. She wrapped herself into a ball and hid under the blanket, seeking warmth. She turned to Cassius, who was sleeping on the couch, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
Soon enough, she found herself drifting off to sleep. This time, she found herself in the ocean, in her mermaid form, swimming very fast. She was swimming from something dangerous; she could sense it. Turning around, her eyes widened, and she let out a loud scream.