Of that, she had no doubt, though something in his tone made her glance at him twice, a jagged splinter of emotion that spoke of more than just physical pain.
He snagged her hand in his and held on, even as she tried to pull free. He tightened his hold. “Half the caravan is watching us. Act as if you at least like me.”
“But I don’t like you, and I’m not the gifted liar you seem to be.”
“Is that so? Tell that to the Empire, Flower of Spring.”
His mouth twitched at one corner at her wordless growl, even as she allowed her fingers to relax in his palm and cursed his name under her breath.
They reached the stream without further argument, and Azarion let go when Gilene yanked her hand out of his clasp hard enough to nearly lose her balance and fall into the water. She refused the steadying hand he offered and hugged her folded clothing even closer. Water rilled over the tops of her shoes, soaking through the leather to chill her feet. Getting clean trumped the desire to stay warm, but this would be unpleasant bathing at best.
She scowled at Azarion, who eased down on a flat swath ofstone at the stream’s edge. Unlike her, he looked clean and refreshed, his hair thick and soft where it grazed his shoulders. A burnished glow sheened the brown skin of his face and arms. Even the places where bruises and healing cuts mottled his flesh didn’t detract from his looks. Unbothered by the damp stream spray, he turned his face up to the sun, eyes slitted nearly closed against the golden light spilling through the clouds.
If she didn’t despise him so much, she might appreciate his beauty.
He slanted her a look. “Are you going to bathe or just stand there all day staring at me?”
If she didn’t need the soap, she’d throw it at him. “Turn your back. I’ll not have you watching me bathe.”
“You possess nothing I haven’t already seen a hundred times,” he said. “And you may need my help.”
“I need you to free me so I can return to Beroe.”
He stood again and approached. “So you’ve said. Often.” He tapped his left shoulder. “Lean on me. I’ll help you remove your tunic.”
As much as she hated to admit it, she did need his help. After three days in a bed, her legs were unsteady, and she tired quickly. The short walk to the stream had drained what energy she still had from earlier, and the clothes she held felt more like an armful of rocks than skirts and a tunic. Azarion relieved her of her burden, letting her keep the soap, and put her clean garb on the rock he’d abandoned.
“Raise your arms,” he instructed. “I’ll ease the tunic over your head.” She followed his command, her back protesting the movement, the place where her magic had marked stretching tight the higher she lifted her arms. But there was no pain, just the stretching. Halani’s poultices had worked a magic of their own.
She put aside her crumbling modesty upon noting Azarion’s lack of interest in her naked body. Instead, his gaze locked with hers. “You may be healing,” he said. “And I may be injured, but I can still run you to ground and bring you back if you try to escape. And I will tie you to me if necessary.”
Cold and nakedness forgotten, Gilene worked up a froth of saliva and prepared to spit in her opponent’s face.
“Do it, and I’ll just spit back,” he warned.
“So much for fooling others into thinking I like you,” she snarled. “What will they think seeing me tethered to you?”
“That you’re a faithless shrew deserving of a beating once I toss aside my pride and admit I caught you trying to return to your lover.” He grabbed her hand and dropped the soap into her palm. “Take your soap and get to washing. We can’t be here all day. Keep your shoes on. There might be sharp rocks in the water.”
The temptation to reach down, grab a handful of those rocks, and pelt him with them was almost more than she could resist. Instead, she clambered through the calf-high water to sit partially submerged in the icy stream. Her teeth chattered hard enough to make her head hurt as she soaped her body and then her hair, giving both a thorough scrubbing. By the time she finished, her toes and hands were numb, and her breasts ached. There was nothing left of the soap.
She tried to stand on her own, only to find Azarion suddenly in the water with her, blessedly warm hands under her shoulders and knees to lift and carry her back to the sun-heated rock. He waited while she dried off, then helped her dress. She tried not to dwell on the soothing touch.
Her feet were still cold in their wet shoes, and her damp hair left a soggy trail down her back, but the rest of her was soon thawing out in the familiar layers of her clothing.
“Your burns look much better,” Azarion observed. “They shouldn’t scar like these others. Did you get these from the magic as well?”
She was reluctant to tell him any more about herself than he already knew. He had a talent for turning information to his benefit and against the person who gave it to him. “Yes.” At least he showed no revulsion for her scars. Many who saw them did, as if she were somehow to blame for them. “Halani didn’t ask me about my other scars. Did she say anything to you?”
Azarion shook his head. “Don’t be surprised by that. These people are prudent with their curiosity. The less they ask about you, the less you’ll ask about them.”
As they walked back to the camp, he continued questioning her. “Do you feel well enough to leave the wagon and sleep outside?”
Even if she didn’t, she’d follow his example and lie that she did. Halani and Asil had given up their home for a sick stranger. Gilene didn’t know if they bedded down in other wagons with family or friends, or slept under the open sky, but it was time they got their home back. Her back and leg no longer hurt, and while she was tired from lingering illness, she didn’t need to sleep in their bed.
“Halani and Asil have been more than kind, and I miss seeing the sky at night. Maybe I can beg a pallet and a blanket from them. It would be nice to sleep under the stars.”
She frowned at the pleased expression that settled over his face. “Good. You can sleep outside with me. Hamod’s given me a pallet and several blankets to serve us both.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Trust me, the hospitality of these traders has been bought with the knife I used on that Kraelian tracker. Halani and Asil are good women, but don’t make the mistake in thinking the sameapplies to the rest, especially Hamod. You’ll be safer sleeping next to me, and as you’re my wife, it’s expected.”
