Back in the driving rain, he dragged a fallen branch into the cave. He cut away the soaked outside with his knife and then cracked the inner pieces. He piled them and poured liquid fire over the splinters. The flames ignited immediately, and she shuddered, crawling closer.
Her lips had a bluish purple hue. He knew his must as well. They needed to warm themselves.
He fashioned an arm of wood to hang near the fire, then he stripped off his skin shirt and pants and hung them. The fabric of skin clothes was meant to dry rapidly. Steam rose off the garments instantly from the fire’s heat.
Her gown’s glow faded, and it no longer billowed. Instead it clung to her body. The peaks of her breasts were puckered underneath. He glanced away, the temptation of her body making him as hard as stone.
“You should take that off. It’ll hold the cold against you.”
“I can’t do that,” she whispered. “If I’m going to die from the cold, I’ll do it covered.”
“You’re not going to die of the cold or anything else. Not while I’m here.”
“Who are you? Where did you come from?” she asked.
He glanced at her face. In the darkened cave, the color of her eyes was closer to moss, but no less stunning.
“Larsinc, once of Linzir, now a son and warrior of Kettura.”
“Linzen, that makes sense,” she said, licking her lips, her teeth chattering. “Ketturan, though? I’ve seen images of them; you look nothing like the people of Kettura.”
“Kettura becomes home to any woman or child who needs it. Ketturan warriors form a brotherhood of skill and merit. No one has to be born there to be Ketturan. Citizenship is granted to those who need it or earn it.”
She smiled so sweetly it was almost dizzying. “Is that so? They’re wild, aren’t they? And dangerous?”
“We can live in the wild if called to, which we often are. And we’re dangerous to some.”
She drew closer to the flames. He put out an arm to block her.
“That’s too close. You’ll singe your hair and if it catches, it could burn your face.”
“My hair’s wet. It won’t catch fire.”
She resisted his command and tried to evade his outstretched arm, which was silly of her.
Still, when he spoke, he kept his voice gentle. “The ends are drying, and there’s liquid flame in the fire. It can wick upward. Move back.”
She reluctantly did as he commanded, but wrinkled her nose.
“Here,” he said, holding out his dry skin shirt. “Take off that shift. Replace it with this. It’s warm and dry now.”
She took the fabric and touched it to her face. “Are you sure you want me to use it, rather than wearing it yourself?” she asked, extending it toward him.
He waved away the offer. “I’m sure. Put it on.”
She hesitated. Her society had a lot of rules, and she didn’t want to break them.At first.
He shook his head. That night was a thing apart, a sweeter piece of the past. The events that followed meant he shouldn’t look back fondly on his time with her. But as a twenty-four-year-old warrior mercenary, he worked most of the time, with only brief stops to holiday nights with women. He’d never spent time with a beautiful, untouched woman near his own age with eyes the color of Linzen grass, one he’d cheated death to carry from the sea. His attraction to her had beat through him like a war drum, driving him to take action. It was still driving him.
Gissandre of Orius was never far from his mind. He’d soon see to it that she wasn’t far from his body either.
