But Nalyx sighed and settled down again without waking, and Gantalla sat there, contemplating her very odd feelings towards this man.
He was a lout. If he hadn’t been injured, he’d have been drinking and flirting and sleeping with as many women as he could manage, just like all the other warriors. She didn’t like the idea that he was only showing her his decent side because of a certain desperation. He’d realised he needed help, that much was certain, and he was perhaps just going out of his way to not annoy her because she was the only one who seemed willing to do the job.
But watching him now, his face peaceful in the faint light of morning, he seemed… vulnerable. His dark hair and rough stubble lent him a roguish air, but beneath that, he’d routinely displayed a sense of decency that the other warriors Gantalla had met had lacked.
So perhaps he wasn’t a lost cause after all? Maybe this episode would teach him something, and he’d come out the other end a better person, having learned patience and a little more compassion and…
And what? And he would magically turn into decent husband material? What sort of fantasies was she entertaining here? He was still a murderer, and there was nothing to indicate that he was suddenly going to quit being a warrior overnight.
Deciding that this was a conundrum that was going to have to wait for another day, Gantalla slipped quietly out of bed. She dressed quickly then went in search of some breakfast. Out in the square, there was still food left over on the tables, so she quickly rounded up some bread, a couple of small, sweet cakes – somewhat stale now, but still edible – and… Yes! Apples! Gantalla remembered those from the first night she’d been at the festival, and she balanced two whole ones on the side of the plate.
As she let herself back into Nalyx’s room, Nalyx woke up, peering at her blearily as she closed the door. “Breakfast,” she explained shortly, before sitting down and feeding him, while she ate her own share of the food along the way.
“I’ve been offered a job at the hospital,” Gantalla told him, once they’d exchanged the usual pleasantries of ‘Good morning’ and ‘Did you sleep well?’. “They want to train me to be a nurse.”
Nalyx grinned at the news. “I think you’d be a fantastic nurse,” he said, once he’d swallowed his mouthful. “You’ve been taking damn good care of me. Do the same for your patients there, and they’d have nothing to complain about.”
The praise warmed her unexpectedly. There was no reason she should be overly concerned about what Nalyx thought, but for some reason, his approval made her flush.
But then he continued, “So does this mean I won’t be enjoying any more of your company in lacy blouses, then?” He glanced pointedly at her chest as he said it, managing to look somehow forlorn, but Gantalla was accustomed enough to his flirting by now that she needn’t bother taking offence.
“That blouse should be burned in a large bonfire,” she said sternly, though she couldn’t help smiling as she said it. But then she added, more seriously, “I will come back to the festival tonight, though. To make sure you get something to eat, if nothing else. Will you be okay for the rest of the day?”
Nalyx nodded. “I’ll find something to keep me busy. You go ahead. Enjoy yourself.” But then he glanced over at his trousers, lying on the back of the chair. “If it’s not too much to ask, though, I’d be grateful if you could help me get dressed before you go?”
“Of course.”
They finished the meal quickly, then Gantalla set the plates aside and fetched Nalyx’s clothes. Getting the trousers back on turned out to be notably more difficult than taking them off. His right foot got caught as he tried to slide it into the leg of the pants, and he very nearly tumbled backwards onto the bed. He grabbed onto Gantalla’s shoulder, then swore as he jarred his burned hand. They both apologised, then had another go, more slowly this time.
A brief amount of cursing and wriggling later and his foot was free, and then Gantalla tugged the pants up to his waist. She’d never had to dress anyone else before, not even any of her nieces or nephews, and she was somewhat dismayed to realise it was harder than it looked. No doubt helping patients dress in the hospital was one of the tasks of the nurses, and she hated the idea of looking so inept in front of her colleagues there.
But when she came to do the pants up, she faced a new problem. Nalyx’s erection was back in full force. It shouldn’t be a surprise, she counselled herself, as she felt her face heat. It was morning. He hadn’t had any female company in the last few days. And he was obviously a very virile sort of man. It was just one of those things that happened.
And yet, she still had no idea what to do about it.
Nalyx looked at the ceiling and sighed. “Sorry,” he breathed, sounding thoroughly frustrated. “Can you just… tuck it down, or something?”
Gantalla did so hastily, pulling the sides of his trousers closed and doing up the buttons quickly. Then she helped him slide his arms into his shirt and secured the sling around his injured arm. By the time she knelt down to lace up his boots, the bulge in his pants had returned to its normal size, and neither of them said anything more about it.
“All set, then?” Gantalla asked, standing up.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Nalyx said, sounding unexpectedly solemn about it. “I realise that being a serving woman isn’t for you, but you’re always welcome here.”
“I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Impulsively, she kissed him on the cheek, then let herself out of the room.
She crossed the courtyard quickly, hoping to avoid any of the other warriors – and Hallix in particular – then made her way through the square. There were several more warriors passed out in various corners, and a handful of serving women were awake by now, cleaning up the plates and cups from the night before.
Inside the hospital, she went to the reception desk. “Good morning,” she greeted the nurse behind the counter. “I’m Gantalla. I’m sorry, I don’t think I saw you yesterday, but I was-”
The woman leapt up, clapping her hands in delight. “Gods above, you’re the one who saved that boy’s life! Henrietta told me all about it this morning. The whole hospital’s talking about you.”
Gantalla couldn’t help but smile. “I was fortunate to have a good teacher,” she said, not to diminish her own achievements, but because her father had taught her the importance of giving credit where it was due. A king could not rule a kingdom alone, he’d said on a regular basis, and showing appreciation to those who supported them was a vital step in maintaining a strong and stable nation. “Henrietta said I could come back if I was interested. Apparently you’re looking for a new nurse.”
The woman grinned. “Fantastic. I’m Nanta, by the way. Come through and I’ll show you around.”
The morning passed reasonably quickly, with Gantalla trailing Henrietta as she treated patients. There was an old man with a burn on his arm from a cooking pot that had overturned, a woman who’d sprained her ankle falling down a step, and a child who’d been kicked by a horse. The doctor was called in to assess the child’s wound, though in the end, he’d declared that the boy was only bruised and nothing was broken. Then there was an elderly lady with a severe cough, who was sent away with a herbal tonic, and a woman with an infected cut. Gantalla paid close attention as the doctor cleaned away the puss and opened the wound further so that it could drain, then Henrietta prepared a poultice of meadowsweet and echinacea.
In the afternoon, Henrietta took Gantalla to one of the offices, sitting her down with a stack of books all about poisons and toxins. “Can you read?” she asked, her tone slightly diffident. The question seemed an honest one, with no hint of judgement in it, lest the answer be no. Presumably, then, reading was fairly common here in the human world, though not a universal skill.
