Chapter 338 - Three Hundred And Thirty Seven

Chapter 338: Chapter Three Hundred And Thirty Seven

Camilla was standing over the wounded General, clad only in her plain, sweat-stained chemise and stockings. Her skin was marked with dirt and dried blood, and her eyes were filled with an intense concentration. She looked unbothered by her improper attire.

Dr. Aris’s quickly averted his eyes, looking down at the floorboards to respect her modesty.

"Lady Camilla!" Dr. Aris gasped, his voice trembling with shock. "What... what are you doing? This is no task for a noblewoman!"

Camilla did not even look up at him. She did not notice his embarrassment, nor did she care about her missing dress. Her entire world was shrunk down to the small lead ball lodged in Damon’s back.

"Be quiet and do not touch anything," Camilla said coldly, her tone so sharp that the doctor instantly shut his mouth.

Camilla picked up the small sugar tongs from the alcohol tray. She slid the thin arms of the sugar tongs into the wound track, following the path she had just measured with the coin and spoon. She felt the metallic surface of the lead ball with the tips of the tongs.

With a soft, firm squeeze, the claws of the sugar tongs clamped tightly around the rounded lead ball.

A moment later, with a faint wet sound, the small, misshapen lead ball was pulled out of Damon’s body.

Camilla immediately dropped the bloody bullet into a brass dish on the side table. It landed with a loud clatter.

Without pausing, she grabbed a fresh piece of hot, sanitized linen and pressed it firmly over the open wound to stop the fresh bleeding.

She used another piece of cloth dipped in clean alcohol to wipe away the blood on the skin surrounding the entry site, sanitizing the area once more.

Once the bleeding slowed under her firm pressure, Camilla stepped back from the bed. She walked over to the basin, poured more alcohol over her hands, and washed them clean, letting the red water run into the bowl.

Only then did she turn her head to acknowledge the doctor standing near the doorway.

"Dr. Aris," Camilla called out, her voice calm and commanding.

Dr. Aris lifted his head slowly, keeping his gaze firmly on her face and away from her body. "Yes, Lady Camilla?"

Camilla turned to one of the terrified maids standing near the wardrobe. "Bring me a robe."

The maid hurried over, grabbing a robe from the closet. She draped it over Camilla’s shoulders. Camilla pulled the robe tight around her waist and tied the belt securely, finally covering her chemise.

Once she was fully covered, Camilla looked straight at Dr. Aris.

"The ball is out," she said, pointing to the brass dish. "I have cleaned the wound track with alcohol and hot linen to prevent the bad humors and infection. Take it from here. Stitch the skin tightly and bandage him."

Dr. Aris looked from the brass dish to the clean, stabilized wound on Damon’s back. His eyes were wide with utter disbelief. The task that he had feared all the way here had been completed flawlessly by a young woman with no formal medical training.

He looked at Camilla’s pale face. He noticed the dark bruises forming on her arms and the faint trace of blood near her hairline.

"Lady Camilla," Dr. Aris said, his voice softer now, filled with a new sense of profound respect. "You are injured as well. You are pale and bleeding. Please, lie down on the couch. Let me tend to your wounds first before I stitch the General."

Camilla shook her head firmly. Her jaw set into a hard line.

"My injuries can wait," she replied flatly. "I have something urgent to take care of downstairs."

Dr. Aris frowned with concern. "My lady, you need rest. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning—"

"It cannot wait," Camilla interrupted, her eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. "Stitch his wound. Make sure he stays warm. When I get back, you may take care of my wounds."

Dr. Aris saw the look in her eyes and realized there was no arguing with her. He bowed his head deeply. "As you wish, Lady Camilla. I will care for the General with my life."

Camilla did not wait to watch him start. She turned around, her robe trailing behind her as she swept out of the bedroom.

As she walked down the long, dimly lit corridors of the mansion, her soft slippers made no sound against the carpet. Her hands were folded tightly inside the sleeves of her robe. Her mind was no longer in the bedroom with Damon. Her mind was full of anger.

Someone had ordered the assassination. The world had almost ended because of this plot. She had been given a second chance to fix this story, and she was not going to waste a single second.

She turned down the narrow stone staircase at the back of the mansion. The bright, warm air of the upper floors gave way to the cold, damp dampness of the underground level. The walls here were made of rough gray stone, lit only by flickering torches mounted on the walls.

Camilla turned her stride toward the deepest part of the basement—the dungeon where the captured assassin was being kept.

Two guards stood at the entrance of the cell block. Beside them stood Lieutenant Kade. His uniform was still bloody and torn, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He was leaning against the stone wall, his face drawn with fatigue and worry.

When the guards and Kade heard the sound of footsteps, they turned quickly, their hands flying to the hilts of their swords. But when they saw Camilla stepping out of the shadows, wrapped in a robe with a pale, fierce face, they immediately stood straight.

The two guards bowed deeply. "My lady."

Kade stepped forward, bowing his head as well. "Lady Camilla."

Camilla stopped in front of the cell door.

Through the iron bars, she could see the battered assassin inside. The man was tied securely to a wooden chair with thick ropes around his chest, arms, and legs. His head was hanging low, his lip was split, and his face was covered in dark bruises and his thigh was wrapped to stop the bleeding from the gun wound. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in the dim light of the cell.

Camilla stared at the battered man with lifeless eyes.

She turned her head slightly to face Kade. "Has he said anything?" she asked, her voice dropping to a low, quiet tone that sounded far more dangerous than a scream.

Kade shook his head, his expression grim. "Not yet, my lady. He refuses to speak a single word. He spat at the guards when they tied him to the chair. He is trained to stay quiet."

Kade stared at Camilla. He had been so consumed with worry for Damon, so shaken by the ambush on the road and the horror of seeing his commander bleed out, that his mind was in a complete blur. He looked at Camilla’s steady posture and couldn’t hold back the question burning in his chest any longer.

"My lady..." Kade asked, his voice trembling slightly with deep anxiety. "Is the General going to be okay?"

Camilla turned her eyes back to Kade. The coldness in her face softened just a fraction, offering him a small, reassuring look.

She nodded firmly.

"He is out of harm’s way," Camilla said, her voice steady and certain. "Doctor Aris is taking care of him now and stitching the wound. He will survive."

Hearing those words, Kade felt as if a huge crushing weight had suddenly been lifted off his chest. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. He placed a hand against the cold stone wall to steady himself, closing his eyes for a brief moment as a quiet prayer of thanks passed through his mind.

"Thank God..." Kade whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank God."