Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 267 - Two Hundred And Sixty Six

The fire in the hearth cracked softly, the only sound in the large bedroom. The air smelled of blood and pain.

Marissa pushed the needle through the skin. Derek’s muscles bunched, hard as stone, but he didn’t make a sound. She pulled the thread tight, closing the jagged edges of the entry wound.

She worked carefully.

Stitch. Pull. Knot. Stitch. Pull. Knot.

She finished the front. It was an ugly, angry red line, but the bleeding had stopped.

"Turn," she instructed gently.

Derek shifted his weight. He turned his back to her. The exit wound was messier, uglier. Marissa took a deep breath to steady her stomach. She cleaned it again with the herb infused water and remove all the debris around it. Derek hissed, his back arching involuntarily.

"I know," she murmured. "I know it hurts. Almost done."

She stitched the back. Every time the needle pierced his skin, she felt a phantom pain in her own body. She felt his pain.

When the last knot was tied, she cut the thread with the small pair of silver scissors.

"It is done," she said.

She reached for the roll of clean white cotton bandages.

"Lift your arm," she said. "Just a little."

Derek lifted his left arm, wincing as the movement pulled at the fresh stitches.

Marissa leaned forward. She wrapped the long strip of cotton around his chest. She passed it under his arm, across his back, and around his waist. She pulled it snug, but not too tight. She wrapped him again and again, creating a thick, protective layer over the wounds.

She was so close to him. Her cheek brushed against his bare shoulder. She could feel the heat radiating from him.

She tied the final knot at his side, securing the bandage.

"There," she said. She sat back, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She was exhausted. She gave him a mixture to drink. " It will help ease the pain."

Derek breathed out, a long, shaky exhale before drinking. He looked down at the white bandages that covered his torso.

"You are a good doctor," he said, his voice raspy. "Better than the butchers at the camp."

Marissa didn’t smile. She turned her attention to her own hand.

She picked up the a fresh cloth and dipped it into the herb infused water. She wrung the remaining water out and used it to clean her palm. She hissed as the liquid touched her raw skin.

Derek turned his head. He saw her wince. He saw the cut on her palm.

"You didn’t tell me how this happen?" He said.

Marissa looked at her hand, then at him.

"I fought a wreath," she said simply. "The wreath won."

Derek looked confused. "A wreath?"

"The funeral decorations," Marissa explained. "Carlos covered the house in white. I tore them down. I couldn’t stand looking at them."

Derek’s expression softened. He took the cloth from her hand.

"Let me," he whispered.

He dabbed her palm gently. He was far more careful with her small scratch than she had been with his gaping hole. He wrapped a small strip of gauze around her hand.

"I am sorry," he said. "I am sorry you had to see that. I am sorry you had to grieve."

Marissa looked at him. The medical work was done. Now, the questions remained.

"Derek," she said. Her voice was serious. "What really happened?"

She looked at his bandaged chest.

"Carlos came back with your locket," she said. "He said he saw you fall. He said the river took you. He said it was an assassin."

Derek leaned back against the headboard. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength.

"It was a trap," Derek began.

He narrated everything.

He told her about the raid on the Mercian supply depot. How they had burned the tents. How they had won the battle.

"We were celebrating," Derek said. "The enemy was running. Ian was cheering. I was... I was happy. I thought I was coming home."

He opened his eyes. They were cold.

"I walked to the edge of the cliff," Derek said. "I wanted to look at the moon. I was thinking of you."

He touched the spot on his chest where the arrow had hit.

"I didn’t hear him," Derek whispered. "I didn’t see him. There was just a sound. And then the impact."

He looked at Marissa.

"The arrow hit me," he said. "It knocked the wind out of me. I stumbled. The ground was icy. I slipped."

Marissa gripped his hand tight.

"I fell," Derek said. "I fell off the cliff."

"But you survived," Marissa said. "How?"

"Luck," Derek said. "And Ian."

He explained how he was stopped by a big tree. The tree had slowed down the current causing him to hang on its trunk.

"I hung there for hours," Derek said. "Bleeding. Freezing. I thought I would die. I thought about letting go."

He looked at her intensely.

"But I remembered your promise," he said. "You said you would never forgive me if I died. I didn’t want you to be angry."

Marissa let out a choked laugh that sounded like a sob.

"Then Ian found me," Derek said. "He dragged me into a cave. He cleaned me up as best as he could. We waited until nightfall, and then we rode back. We rode straight here, avoiding the roads a week later after the news of my death was everywhere."

He paused.

"I didn’t see the person who shot me," Derek admitted.

Marissa’s face hardened. She knew. She didn’t need to see the archer to know who held the bow.

"It is Carlos," Marissa said firmly.

Derek looked at her.

"I am sure of it," Marissa continued. "His actions... they are enough evidence. He returned too quickly. He had the locket. He declared you dead without a body. He ordered the funeral immediately."

She stood up and paced the small space by the bed.

"And before you left," she added, "he was desperate. He owes money. He was meeting with Liam. He wants the title."

She turned to Derek.

"He tried to kill you," she stated. "Your own brother."

Derek nodded slowly. He didn’t look surprised. He looked resigned.

"I know," Derek said. "I suspect him too. The timing is too perfect. The betrayal at the depot... someone told the Mercians we were coming. Only the officers knew the plan."

He clenched his fist on the bedsheet.

"But," Derek sighed, "we have no tangible evidence. No witness saw him shoot. No letter was found on him."

He looked at Marissa.

"But I don’t need a judge to tell me the truth," Derek said. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl.

"I will make sure he gets punished," Derek vowed. He sat up straighter, ignoring the pain in his chest.

"I have already communicated with my supporters in court," Derek revealed. "While I was hiding in the cave, I sent a Shadow with messages. I sent letters to General Rogers. I sent letters to my people in the Royal Council."

He looked at Marissa with a grim smile.

"They know I am alive," Derek said. "But they are keeping it a secret. For one more day."

"Why?" Marissa asked.

"Because tomorrow is the funeral and awarding day," Derek said, his eyes glittered in the firelight.

"I have a big surprise in store for him tomorrow," Derek said.

He reached out and pulled Marissa back to the bed. He made her sit beside him.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, "we will let him have his moment. We will let him stand. We will let him think he has won everything."

He kissed her hand, right over the bandage.

"And then," Derek said, "I will walk through the door."

Marissa looked at him. She imagined the scene. Carlos, smug and victorious, seeing the dead man walking.

She smiled. It was a fierce, sharp smile.

"It will be a funeral," Marissa said. "But not yours."

"No," Derek agreed. "It will be the funeral of his ambition."