There was no derision in his tone. No mocking or ridicule. Instead he sounded earnest. Genuine. Like maybe he cared.
“You can help me return to House Celestine?” she asked, perking up at the thought.
“Not quite.” Kjeld moved to a cherrywood wardrobe intricately carved with poppies and vines. He pulled a large navy cotton shirt from the top shelf and grabbed a towel from the bronze hook. “There’s a washing basin here you can use.”
“Oh. Really?” It was an amusing thought, really. To imagine this behemoth of a male soaking in a tub for the simple enjoyment of it. If he could even fit in it. Caelian found herself wondering if he used any dried flowers, scented oils, or milks. If not, she would have to make the most of it. “I suppose bathing here wouldn’t be too terrible.”
Though by the looks of it, it didn’t seem like she was going to be given an option either way.
Kjeld didn’t smile or acknowledge her pitiful attempt to lighten the mood. Instead, he was cloaked in rigid silence, his footfalls heavy as he moved throughout the cabin gathering the supplies for her bath. He disappeared around a corner, and she heard the sounds of rummaging along with cabinets opening and closing. A door on the other side of the cabin slammed shut, and for a moment there was nothing but the crackling of the fire to keep her company. But then Kjeld was muttering to himself, and the sound of rushing water filled her ears.
Caelian slid off the bed, her bare feet meeting the plush rug, and she carefully wrapped the sheet around her, tucking it beneath her arms. She tiptoed over to the opposite side of the cabin, sneaking around the corner, curious to see what this supposed washbasin looked like. To be honest, she half expected a giant metal bucket or pail of some kind. But what she saw instead left her near breathless.
There was Kjeld, kneeling before a standing tub of polished copper and filling it to the brim with steaming water. Wisps of his blond hair fell loose from a few of his braids and curled near his temple. Scruff lined his jaw, as though he hadn’t shaved in a number of days. Strange, because the last time she saw him, she swore his face was smooth. He grabbed a small bottle of some milky substance and poured it in, and the room instantly filled with the calming scents of vanilla and sandalwood. She was disappointed in the lack of rose petals, but an actual milk bath more than made up for it.
He neatly set her folded towel and washcloth upon a stool, then his gaze snapped to her.
“What are you doing?” Kjeld stood, his imposing frame absorbing the space.
Caelian took a cautious step back, the hardwood cold beneath her toes. “I thought I was going to take a bath.”
“Aye, and you will, but you have no business walking around on your own.” He folded his arms over his chest, corded muscles bulging beneath his rumpled black shirt. “You want a bath, then I’ll bring you to it. You want something to eat, then I’ll get it for you.”
“You’re being absurd, Kjeld.” She twisted the sheet around her fingers. The once soft cotton suddenly felt rough and gritty, and she wanted to rip it to shreds. “I am perfectly capable of doing things on my own, I’m?—”
“No, you’re not!” He boomed, so the panes of the window shuddered and the floor quaked. Stalking toward her, he closed the distance between them in two strides until his imposing stature hovered over her. She flinched but did not back away. Instead she rolled her shoulders back and faced his tantrum without a flicker of fear. “You did not see what I saw! There was blood, so much blood, and it was everywhere. You were unconscious for seven days, Caelian. Seven days! You…you almost…”
His voice trailed off and he roughed a hand over his face, shoving a few pieces of his hair back. A severe line etched across his brow, and he squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply. He finally opened them again, and there was an unfamiliar emotion banked in the endless pools of bright blue. This time when he spoke, pain clung to every hoarse word, burning through the air like brimstone.
“You almost died.”
Fear.
That was what reflected at her from the depths of his eyes. It was fear.
“I didn’t know.” She rubbed her lips together, tugging the bottom one between her teeth as she clutched the sheet to her body. “I’m sorry, I?—”
Kjeld lifted one hand to quiet her. “Please. Do not apologize for almost dying. You were only trying to help.”
Realization slammed into her, stealing her breath. “Oh sweet stars, the eggs!”
Her mind spun and whirled. She’d tried so desperately to save them, to save Astrylys, and the looming fog of failure settled over her. “I wasn’t enough, was I?”
Not fast enough.
Not strong enough.
Yet just foolish enough to think she could make a difference.
Kjeld’s arms dropped to his sides, but his hands were curled into tight fists. “Do not berate yourself, Caelian. You are enough. The eggs are safe and Astrylys lives, and all of it is because of you. Because you were fearless in the face of danger.”
“But what was it?” She shook her head, kneading the fabric of the sheet between her fingers. “I thought we banished the corrupt magic at Novalise and Asher’s wedding?”
“We can discuss that later, once you’ve rested and returned to House Celestine.” He stepped to the side, gesturing to the copper tub. “Do you…”
He paused, swallowing hard, tugging on the collar of his ivory cotton shirt.
“Do you need any assistance?”
