Winter Queen Read Online Free PDF Page A

rang from their screams. Some were simply beyond her skill to heal, like a man whose foot was nearly cut in half. He adamantly refused amputation. It was hard to tell with all the bleeding, but she tried to align it as best she could before she stitched it closed, added a few leeches to increase the blood flow, wrapped it, and ordered the man to stay off his foot for the better part of a year. She knew from the look in his eyes that he understood. If they did manage to save his foot, he’d never run again. He’d be lucky to hobble, if he lived at all.
    After the most dire cases were finally under control, Bratton finally came to her. Without waiting for her to ask, he prostrated himself on the table. “I’ve a few cuts that won’t stop bleeding.”
    Ilyenna eyed him as she washed the blood from her hands. “You should take some whiskey. Give it time to work before we start.”
    He shook his head. “Can’t be drunk. At least not until Father wakes up and can take over again.”
    She opened her mouth to say even a little would take off the bite, but Bratton seemed to know what she was thinking. He gave her the look that meant “Leave it alone.” Pursing her lips, she nodded. Then she ordered one of the Argon women to get him a cup of tea made from willow bark and other healing herbs. While he drank it, Ilyenna pulled away the bandage from his thigh. She hissed at what she saw—a gouge that cut clean through the muscle. She lined up her bone needle and threaded a strip of sheep intestine through the eye. Then she gave her brother a chunk of leather to bite down on. “You need someone to hold you?”
    In answer, he lay back on the table. She poured whiskey on the wound and scrubbed it clean. Bratton arched his back, his whole body straining. His face turned red and the veins stood out on his face. Starting deep, she worked her stitches toward the surface. He cursed her through the leather. Eventually, he started screaming. When he tried to squirm away from her, Ilyenna nodded for some nearby men to hold him down.
    He shoved one. “No!”
    “Bratton!” she warned him.
    The two gripped his arms and held him while she finished. When it was over, he buried the heels of his hands into his eyes to hide his tears. Ilyenna quietly set a mug of whiskey at his side. Without a word, he drained it.
    Lifting a shaking arm to her forehead, she wiped the sweat from her brow. Great-aunt Enrid came over from the hearth and set a plate in front of her and a bowl of qatcha in front of Bratton. Ilyenna wasn’t really hungry, but she knew she needed to eat. She washed Bratton’s blood from her hands and sat down on a chair. Her legs, feet, and lower back ached from hunching over so many people.
    With a crust of bread, she poked at a boiled potato topped with melting sheep cheese. Taking a bite, she suddenly realized she was famished. But one glance at the tight lines around Enrid’s face told Ilyenna they had another worry. It wasn’t hard to guess what. “How’s the food holding out?” she asked softly.
    Enrid glanced around before edging closer. “Doubling our clan’s numbers in the dead of winter . . . I’m watering down the stew. If we’re careful, no one will starve.”
    Ilyenna pushed the plate away. “Let one of the others have it.”
    Enrid planted both fists on her hips. “You need your strength as much as anybody.”
    Ilyenna rubbed her forehead, trying to work out the knot inside her skull as she would a cramped muscle. It didn’t help, but she was so weary that closing her eyes for a moment brought some relief.
    “You’re tired. You and Bratton get some rest,” Enrid said.
    Ilyenna shook her head. “I’ll sleep tonight. The fevers are starting. We’re running out of leeches and garlic. I’ve bandages to change, and I need to make new ointments.”
    Enrid gestured to the window. “It is night, Ilyenna. If you don’t go to bed, you’re going to do something foolish.”
    To placate her, Ilyenna grabbed