Raven stopped walking when the moon had risen, and trees lined the street. She led the horses and helped Landyn through the trees to a small, open area. Sheltered by a canopy of treetops, the area was mostly dirt, fallen branches, and an occasional weed. It was far enough from the road that no one would see them, yet close enough to a small stream that the horses could drink.
Landyn sat beneath a tall tree as she tied the horses’ reins to a branch of a tree near the stream. Then, she ran her hand along Thunder’s neck before moving to the saddlebags filled with supplies the monks had given them. She removed a flask and some food and returned to Landyn’s side to sit. Unwrapping the cloth around the food, she handed him cheese and bread. “How do you feel?”
“Better, now that we are resting,” he admitted.
She took a bite of the cheese and eyed his injury. “You have a lump on your forehead.”
Landyn lifted his hand and drew his fingers along his brow. He found it immediately. “It’s nothing.”
Raven retrieved a small pouch from her horse’s saddlebags. “Let me see it.”
Another sigh from Landyn.
She knelt before him, examining the bump. “My father used to come back from jobs often with bruises and cuts.” She moved her hand toward him. He tensed. “We were all trained how to care for sword wounds.” She gently ran her fingertips along his forehead, encircling the bump to see if it was hot. He relaxed beneath her touch. “Willow is the best at caring for injuries, but we can all do it. She is the most compassionate.”
“You’re not compassionate?” he scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”
She raised an eyebrow and purposely pressed against the bump.
“Ow!” He pulled back.
She nodded. “You just need time. A cool cloth will help, but there’s not more I can do.” She sat back on her heels. “Any other injuries?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Take your tunic off,” she commanded, opening the pouch.
He hesitated.
She peered at him with a sarcastic twist of her lips. “I can’t see through your tunic. Don’t worry.” She grinned and joked, “I promise not to fall in love with you.”
That did it. He unbuckled his belt, put it aside, and lifted the tunic over his head.
Raven had often seen her father’s upper body when he was working, practicing with his sword, or injured. But she rarely saw another man’s torso. And she had definitely never seen one like Landyn’s. His torso was sculpted and powerful. She swallowed heavily, staring.
“Do you see any cuts?” he asked.
She cleared her throat and looked away. “No. Nothing. No cuts.” She couldn’t resist a glance back at his amazing body. His arm muscles rippled as he reached for his tunic. The planes on his stomach clenched as he raised it above his head to pull it down. For a moment, Raven was disappointed she couldn’t watch any longer.
She mentally shook herself and gathered her pouch. As she was going to stand, he grasped her wrist.
“What about you?” he wondered.
“What about me?” she asked.
“Do you have any injuries?”
Outrage filled her. “I’m not taking my armor off!”
He chuckled softly, and the ripples warmed and relaxed her. “No,” he said. “Were you hurt during the fight?”
“No,” she replied and stood. “Not even a cut. I do know how to sword fight.”
“So do I,” he protested. “But there were a lot of them.”
She felt she should appease his ego. “I caught them by surprise. They were too interested in you to notice me. I had taken down two of them before they knew what was happening.” She uncorked the flask and took a long drink, the soothing ale washing down her dry throat. She handed the flask to him. “What were the king’s men doing there?”
Landyn swallowed a drink of the ale as Raven pulled the cloth open around her food. When he finished, he glanced at her. “Perchance Boucher’s men were reporting to them. He is the king’s lackey.”
