An hour and a half later, Gantalla’s intuition had been proved right. She’d carefully steered the conversation to more amiable topics, asking about the local businesses, the farms dotted around the outskirts of the town, and noted the names of several of the warriors who were already married. If she was forced to spend more time with them – though she intended to avoid it as much as possible – then it might help to gravitate towards those who would be more interested in her practical skills, rather than the size of her bosom.
Finally, though, she decided she’d had enough of Hallix’s hand on her leg and his lips on her neck. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to say goodnight,” she said, standing up and having to be a little bit forceful about it when Hallix tried to keep her in her seat. “With his hands all bandaged up, Nalyx is going to have trouble getting ready for bed, and I promised I’d give him a hand.” She sent a wink Elria’s way, knowing that Hallix would see it as well.
“Why are you bothering with that weak little upstart?” Hallix asked, abandoning the last of his efforts to overlook her interest in him. “I’m the one who killed a unicorn. You seriously want to waste your time with that two-bit loser?”
Summoning all the attitude of her royal station, Gantalla raised an eyebrow at him. If he was determined to be rude about it, then she could do the same. “Well, actually, the way I hear it, Nalyx did most of the work. You just finished it off.”
Hallix’s mouth fell open. Fin gave a nervous chuckle, while Henrick laughed out loud. “She’s got you there, big brother,” he said with a smirk, and Gantalla didn’t wait around to hear what Hallix’s retort might be. She set off across the square, not even bothering to care whether Nalyx would be in his room or not – or whether he might already have company. Anything was better than sitting here getting pawed at by this boorish lout.
◊ ◊ ◊
Lying in bed and cursing his decision to chase after that hell-damned unicorn, Nalyx willed the whisky he’d drunk to start kicking in so that he could fall asleep. It was still relatively early in the night, but he’d run out of patience with the festival, writing the evening off as a monumental disaster. He’d spent an hour trying to persuade any of the serving women to actually help him eat anything – without more than token success – and had then been subjected to another crude attempt by Liatra to give him a lap dance. But the young woman remained oblivious to his injuries, jarring his shoulder repeatedly, then grabbing his hands, scraping the still-healing skin underneath and causing him to toss her roughly off his lap. But even that hadn’t been enough to deter her.
“Oh, your poor thing,” she’d said, her pout full of poorly-mustered sympathy. “How about I take you back to your room and we can try something else to make you feel better.” She tugged her top down another inch, displaying her generous cleavage.
That, at least, had been a welcome offer. Nalyx grinned. “I’d gladly have you there. But we might have to get a little creative, given the… limitations.” He held up his hands again, hoping she’d finally get the message. But at the same time, he gave her a sly wink. “But if you don’t mind doing some of the work, I’m sure I could make it worth your while.”
Liatra’s pout had turned darker, affronted disappointment replacing any semblance of compassion. “Oh. You mean you couldn’t…?” She eyed his hands, as if just now realising what his injuries meant. “Well, that’s no fun.” She sighed and tugged her top up again. “Let me know when your hands have healed. You’re not much use to me until then.” With that, she’d flounced away, heading straight for Calium and the cluster of young warriors he was drinking with.
Gods above, how had he never realised just how useless the girl was? Pissed off and more frustrated than ever, Nalyx slunk off to his room, determined to at least get some rest, if the evening held nothing else of value.
Now, he turned over in his wide bed, wincing as the movement sent a stabbing pain through his shoulder. After only a minute or two, he turned back again, unable to stand the pressure on his aching wound. A soft knock sounded, but he ignored it. Most likely it was a woman seeking entrance to the room next door, which only served to remind him how long it had been since he’d had a woman of his own. With his hands wrapped, he couldn’t even manage to jerk himself off. Just one more thing that was making this one of the worst festivals he’d ever endured.
So he was surprised when his own door opened, letting a shaft of light in from the distant lanterns. “Nalyx?”
“Gantalla?” Her figure was shadowed in the doorway, but he was sure it was her. She was taller than most of the women, and her long, black hair was unique among the blondes and browns of most of the townsfolk.
“Thank goodness.” She slipped into the room, closing the door. “Do you have a lamp? I can’t see a thing.”
“Yeah, it’s here…” He reached out very carefully, lest he knock the thing off the stand, and managed to turn up the wick. Gantalla was standing by the door, a rough bundle in her hands. “What are you doing here?” When there had been no sign of her at the festival, he’d hazarded a guess that she’d ended up leaving town, after all.
Gantalla gave a heartfelt sigh. “That depends who you ask. But let’s keep it simple. I brought you dinner.” She pulled the cloth off the top of her package, and Nalyx groaned in pleasure as he saw what was underneath. “I guessed you might have had a hard time getting anything to eat.” She was holding a plate piled high with meat and bread, with a slice of some sort of fruit pie tucked into the side.
“You’re an absolute gem,” he said, shuffling around until he was sitting up in bed. She sat down on the edge of it and began feeding him, making no comment about either his inability to do it himself or the fact that he was in bed far earlier that might have been expected. “Thank you,” he said, in between bites. “When I didn’t see you at the festival, I thought…”
“I got a bit side-tracked,” Gantalla said, focusing on the plate. “Things went well at the hospital, though. The doctors were all very impressed.”
Nalyx could recognise a diversion when he saw one, but given how the evening had gone for him, he wasn’t inclined to press her for details. “They have a good reason to be. What you did today was incredible.”
Gantalla blushed in the dim light, but the small smile on her face said she was pleased with the compliment. “It’s nice to know how to do something useful.” A wistful look came over her. “Growing up with a wealthy father, I was spoiled a lot. And until recently, I never thought about that too much. But the people here have so many wonderful talents. The nurses at the hospital, and these boots are just amazing.” She held up one foot. “I’ve been wearing them all day, and I don’t have any blisters from the leather rubbing. Whoever made them is a genius. And someone was telling me about Yorin, earlier – one of the tailors in town. I haven’t met him, but he makes some exquisite clothes. When I arrived, I felt like I didn’t have anything to offer. It feels good to have done something worthwhile today.”
She was such a contrast to the other women. Most of them spent their days flirting and making themselves look pretty, and the token amount of ‘work’ they put in wasn’t exactly difficult – fetching new clothes from the tailors for the warriors or putting ribbons up around the square. To be fair, that was largely what the warriors expected of them, and most of the men were more than happy to have someone on hand to give them a massage or help them bathe. But to see someone take pride in a real skill was refreshing.
“Oh, but I have something else for you.” Gantalla pulled another object out of the bundle she’d brought with her, then held it up, and Nalyx grinned as he saw the bottle of whisky. “I’d suggest you don’t try to drink the whole bottle this time,” she said, with a wry smirk. “But I thought you’d appreciate a cup or two.”
“You’re amazing,” he said, knowing the words were inadequate. “Thank you. For everything.”
◊ ◊ ◊
The minutes trickled by as Gantalla continued to feed Nalyx his dinner. And then she poured him a cup of whisky, and feeling whimsical, one for herself. Nalyx sat back in bed, carefully arranging a pillow to cushion his shoulder – still bandaged, and from his occasional wince, still causing him some pain. But a moment later, he sat up again. “Could I ask a favour?” he said. He glanced down at his legs. “Could you help me take my pants off? I couldn’t get them undone and sleeping in them isn’t particularly comfortable.”
It was only then that Gantalla realised he was still wearing them. He’d removed his shirt – whether by himself or with someone’s help, she wasn’t sure – but the buttons on his pants would have been too difficult with his bandaged hands. And the fact that no one had bothered to unbutton them for him suggested that he’d had to struggle through taking his shirt off himself as well.
Gantalla felt an uncomfortable stab of sympathy for him. She still didn’t particularly want to be empathising with this hoard of murderers, but where the hell were all these supposed serving women when one of the warriors actually needed help with something? They’d seen he was injured and just abandoned him because he wasn’t fitting in with their pompous expectations anymore?
But it wasn’t only her dismay about the serving women that had Gantalla hesitating. All through his meal, she’d been trying her hardest tonotnotice Nalyx’s lack of a shirt. By the gods, he had a fine body. She’d done a passable job of maintaining her composure during his bath that morning, but seeing him unclothed had driven the point home of just why so many young women were loitering about, willing to throw themselves into these men’s beds. The King’s Guard, back home in her father’s palace, had been some of the finest men the hadathmet had to offer, and even they would have paled in comparison to Nalyx. Hadathmet men just weren’t as large, or as strong. The body before her displayed rock hard muscles, a fine dusting of hair over his chest… and below the waist, his erection – yes, she had noticed this morning, for all that she’d tried to pretend she hadn’t – had been thick, long enough to ignite a woman’s fantasies, without beingtoolarge.
And now he wanted her to strip him naked again? Okay, it was only so that he could sleep comfortably, but…
