‘I’m having amoment,’ she said. ‘Allow me the courtesy of a second to breathe before I fall prey to yet another order today.’
A sigh as he removed his cloak and sat down beside her.
‘I only meant?—’
She heard the sound of something tearing and looked over to find he’d ripped part of his beautiful white cloak into a strip. He held it out to her. ‘Here,’ he said a bit gruffly. When she didn’t take it, hesoftened his tone. ‘So you don’t bleed out before you make it to the infirmary.’
‘Oh,’ Ezer said. ‘Thanks.’
She tried to wrap the cloth around her wound, but her damned hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
‘Let me,’ Arawn said. The bench shifted from his sheer size as he turned to face her, their knees almost touching.
And with careful fingers, he wound the fabric around the cut on her hand. Red bloomed across the velvet as he continued to layer it. He had scars on his skin, his fingertips and the backs of his hands … the marks of a warrior who had killed and nearly been killed.
Strange, that he could be so gentle.
‘You did well in there,’ he said.
She hissed as he tied the cloth tight.
‘For a Ravenminder?’ she said darkly.
‘No,’ Arawn said. He glanced up to meet her gaze, forgetting to remove his hands from hers.
His were warm.
Calloused, and strong.
‘You did well foranyone,’he said, and to her surprise he smiled before he realized he was still touching her, and quickly pulled away. ‘Seasoned warriors have run from Six screaming, butyou…’ He looked at her like he was trying to put all the pieces together. ‘You are … an anomaly.’
She quirked a brow.
‘Well, Firemage. Coming from you … I suppose that’s as good a compliment as any.’ She stood, nodded her thanks, and turned to open the enormous wooden doors to the outside.
‘Tomorrow,’ he blurted.
She spun back around. ‘Tomorrow … what?’
He was still sitting there on the bench, his hands held before him like he wasn’t certain what to do with them after touching her.
‘Perhaps we could speak more then. About your magic.’
Snow danced around her, the cold already piercing her back as she stood in the doorway. ‘I don’t have any magic,’ Ezer said,and pulled her dark hood over her head, bathing herself in shadow. ‘And I haven’t the time to think about tomorrow when I’m still in the middle of trying to survivetoday.’
Without another word, she headed out into the cold.
After a long, harrowing walk down the upper cliff steps, Ezer finally found herself back in the Citadel’s embrace.
Izill waited in the courtyard, wearing a path in the snow.
‘Gods above, Ezer!’ She gasped when she saw the wrap on Ezer’s wound. ‘Tell meeverything.’
She grabbed Ezer by her good hand. And where normally Ezer would have flinched, unused to being touched by anyone, she found herself strangely disarmed by Izill’s warmth.
The servant began hauling her towards the Healer’s quarters, asking questions the whole way.
It was towards the lowest floors of the fortress: a calm, quiet space with a courtyard entrance, easily accessible to any Sacred wounded in battle.
