Kiram hardly noticed his meal. Nestor pointed out that this was the first time that he could recognize the cuts of meat on his plate. The pork and apples were followed by a course of cheese and bread. Kiram chewed without really tasting anything.
He couldn't help but notice that Elezar also stole glances at the door as if he, too, worried over Javier's long absence. After dinner Elezar stepped up next to Kiram.
"If he isn't back by dark come get me," Elezar whispered. Then he strode away to join Atreau and the other upperclassmen for an evening ride.
Kiram went to his room to work on his history paper while he waited. He managed to write a string of obscenities about Nazario Sagrada, also known as Nazario the Impaler, Scourge of the Haldiim. He couldn't concentrate. He paced past the windows relentlessly. Outside the blue sky turned golden as the sun burned over the horizon. He suddenly thought that he'd been doing the same thing last night, pacing and waiting for Javier. And Javier had not come.
Kiram gave up on waiting. He headed downstairs and across the academy grounds toward the chapel.
A high wrought iron fence surrounded the ornate building. Small, flowering trees and rose bushes filled the inner courtyard. Deep gold light flashed off the glittering stained glass windows of the sanctuary building.
Kiram peered over the wall and then very cautiously swung the wrought iron gate open. He was forbidden from entering the chapel, but he tried to assure himself that the courtyard might be a different matter.
Still, his heart pounded wildly as he stepped on Cadeleonian holy ground. He crept from shadow to shadow, slowly circling the perimeter fence, searching for any sign of Javier.
Kiram found him lying under a pear tree. His white skin shone like moonlight from the shadows of the tree. His eyes were clenched closed and dark blood pooled around his outstretched arm.
Chapter Ten
Panic bolted through Kiram, scattering his thoughts in a dozen different directions. A stream of blood still trickled down from Javier's wrist. Kiram had no idea what to do.
Only the memory of his physician uncle's battlefield stories gave Kiram any direction. He whipped off his jacket and dropped down beside Javier. As he wrapped the sleeve of his jacket around Javier's arm he noticed that there were already bandages swathing his wrist. Javier's dark red blood soaked through them.
Kiram knotted the sleeve of his jacket just above Javier's elbow and twisted it tight to form a tourniquet. He should have used some kind of stick to twist the knot even tighter. Kiram was sure his uncle had mentioned using a stick, but Kiram didn't dare let go of the jacket now. He held the thin cloth in place, applying pressure to the wound.
His uncle always said to apply pressure. Kiram wracked his memory for anything else. Raise the limb above the body; slow the flow of blood from the heart to the wound. Kiram lifted Javier's limp arm up onto his lap.
This was what his uncle would have done, wasn't it? Kiram couldn't remember his uncle ever saying he'd used a jacket sleeve for a tourniquet.
Nor had he ever mentioned how hot fresh blood felt or how pungent it smelled. He had not told Kiram that a man's mouth could turn ice blue from blood loss or that his taut muscles would loosen and hang like slabs of cold meat. Javier's chest didn't rise or fall.
Kiram felt suddenly, sickeningly sure that Javier was dead. Something between a wail and a sob clenched Kiram's throat but he couldn't get the sound out. He couldn't even pull in a breath. Every muscle of his body seemed to clench and shake.
Then Javier opened his eyes. He looked at Kiram and forced a slow smile, as if his own death were a joke.
"Well, if it isn't Kiram Kir-Zaki. What are you doing here?"
"I came to find you." Kiram could barely gather his thoughts to speak. He was relieved that Javier was alive but almost unable to credit it. "Ybu were-you looked like you were dead."
"Yfes, I do that from time to time." Javier's laugh emerged as a dry rasp. He closed his eyes and, as if it took all his concentration, drew in a slow breath.
Faint color returned to Javier's lips, though his skin still felt cold. A living tension slowly spread through the muscles of Javier's body.
Blood clung to Kiram's fingers like hide-glue. He tried to wipe his hands on his pants but they wouldn't come clean. "There's so much blood."
"Muerate poison keeps wounds open. It can be a little messy."
"You weren't moving." Kiram found the quaver in his own voice disturbing. He shouldn't have been this upset. Javier was alive and he seemed to be recovering his strength. But the thought of his death, the sensation of his limp body, and heat of his blood had been burned into Kiram's mind. Never in his life had he been so close to someone dying. It had seemed so immense and terrible and he had been so utterly helpless to stop it. Now he couldn't believe that Javier was alive, staring up at him and carrying on a conversation as if this were a trivial matter.
"I think Scholar Donamillo must have administered a little too much of the poison before Holy Father Habalan bled me." Javier sounded disinterested. "I can't feel my left hand."
"I tied a tourniquet around your elbow to slow the bleeding," Kiram said. For the first time he noticed little tremors moving beneath the blood-soaked bandages. Then he saw a tiny white spark skip over the mass of cloth.
"Take it off, will you? I don't think it's doing any good now." Javier tried to sit up but then slumped back down against Kiram's thighs, muttering, "Damn."
Kiram worked the knots loose and slowly unwrapped his jacket from around Javier's elbow. He watched Javier's wrist closely, fearing a sudden gush of blood. Instead more white sparks danced through the bandages. Javier's fingers twitched minutely.
"You're not supposed to be on chapel grounds," Javier said as if he had just realized where they were.
"No one said anything about the grounds, just the chapel." Kiram folded his jacket, to hide the bloody sleeve. His hands still trembled. He wished he could make them stop.
"I'm not certain that the holy father would be sympathetic to that argument. And honestly, as exciting as this illicit meeting in the garden is, I think it might be getting a little late." Javier frowned up through the branches of the pear tree at the darkening sky. "We should get back to the dormitory."
"You need to see a physician. Scholar Donamillo-"
Javier shook his head. "Scholar Donamillo is hardly as entertaining as you are."
"Entertaining?" The word was an utter anathema to everything that Kiram felt. "I thought you were dying."
"Really?" Javier gave Kiram one of his sensual, mocking smiles. "Were you scared for me?"
"Of course I was, you ferret-faced moron!"
"Ferret-faced? Such harsh language on holy ground, Kiram."
"How can you laugh?" Kiram hissed. "I thought you were going to die. I was terrified for you and you-you're just an utter pig."
Kiram was horrified to feel tears welling up in his eyes. His vision blurred. He stood quickly and turned his back so that Javier would not see.
"Kiram," Javier said gently, as if he were addressing a child. "I'm sorry."
"No, you aren't." Kiram wiped his face angrily. "You're amused. You think it's all just some huge joke. But it's not. You were ice cold and there was so much blood and I-I really thought-I-" Kiram hated the way his voice broke. He sucked in a deep breath of air and refused to look at Javier. He didn't think he could bear the sight of another of his satirical grins.
"Obviously you're just fine now." Kiram kept his tone as cold as he could. "So I'll be going."
"Don't," Javier said, but Kiram didn't stop. He stormed through the trees as if he didn't care who saw him. He wouldn't let Javier laugh at him creeping from shadow to shadow.