“Who? A Wolf?”
No, my mentor.
“I’ll be fine,” I muttered. “Just give me a moment. Is there any water to drink?”
Ruru hurried over to the crate and uncorked a bottle from within. “It might taste a little stale, but it’s good.”
I would’ve thrust my head into the waterfall if it meant quenching my thirst. He passed it to me, and I drank deeply, the cool water easing the fire in my throat and chest, even trickling over my ribs. After taking another gulp, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and offered it to Ruru. He traded me a cracker.
The dry bread with a hint of salt nearly sucked all the water back out of my mouth, but my stomach growled in appreciation.
The door banged open, and I struggled to my feet, trying not to flinch. Aiden and Maz crowded into the small room. Maz jammed the uneven door closed as Aiden’s eyes immediately fell to me.
“What were you doing on the floor?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to tell him I was merely resting, but Ruru spoke faster. “Some bastard beat her pretty good.”
Aiden’s dark eyebrows lowered like a storm cloud. “You said you weren’t hurt.”
“I said I would live,” I muttered. Louder, I added, “I didn’t slow you down, did I? That’s what counts.”
Aiden breathed heavily through his nostrils, as if he were straining to control his patience. Maz walked past him, casting a sly glance between us.
I folded my arms over my chest, trying to keep from shivering. Whether it was from my damp clothing, or the chilly gaze Aiden swept over me, I couldn’t say. His eyes held fast to my discarded boot. Without a word, he knelt in front of me and beckoned. “Give me your other boot.”
I blinked, not sure I heard him correctly. “Excuse me?” This was ridiculous.
His bright green eyes stared up at me, and I forgot how to breathe. Water droplets slipped from his hair, over his flexing throat, to escape down his chest.
“Unless you want to injure yourself further, give me your boot.”
My leg shifted of its own accord and planted my boot heel in his palm. With gentleness I hadn’t thought possible from someone who had savagely murdered two Wolvesbarefoot, Aiden pulled apart my laces and worked my boot off.
Heat trembled in my stomach. For only a moment. As soon as my toes were clear, I pulled my foot away from him. “I’m not helpless,” I snarled, but the words lacked bite.
He tossed the boot aside and rose to his feet in a heartbeat. “Helpless is better than foolish.”
“Good thing I’m neither.”
His jaw flexed, and he walked away. Maz tossed him a dry shirt, having already plucked one out for himself. Ruru was back to scrounging through the food tins. Aiden tugged on the shirt, giving me only the smallest glimpse of the strange markings on his back.
My nose scrunched in frustration. I desperately wanted to see what they were, but the likelihood of catching him shirtless again would be slim. Hopefully.
Maz stripped off his wet shirt, and I gasped. Intricate patterns and symbols in dark ink coated his muscular body as if his skin were a canvas or a page in a book.
Maz’s eyebrows lifted. “See something you like, lovely?”
I ignored his flirtatious tone. “You’re a Dag.”
“Have you never seen one of us before?” He did a slow turn for me under the light. The image of a mountain took up most of his back with many other symbols woven around it. A tangle of scars marked his left shoulder, similar to Aiden. Had they been scarred by the same thing or same person?
“No.” I’d never stepped foot out of Aquinon. The Dags were our closest neighbors—if that was a term one could use for people who raided our border as they pleased. I wracked my brain, trying to remember if they were even allowed passage in Rellmira anymore.
“Then I’m glad to be your first,” Maz said, his smile strained for the first time. “And may I say I’m an excellent representation of my people.”
“All Dags have tattoos? Why?”
Maz traced a long tree tattoo on his forearm. “We believe that stitching our stories into skin helps the gods find our souls when our bodies are burned in death. The more stories you’ve lived, the more your soul has to show the gods.”
