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“I am a simple man, I want one thing in life, tae bed the princess. Ye might think tis the command that makes me follow yer orders, but tis far more likely that I follow yer orders for the promise of kissin’ ye again once I survive.”

“I promise to kiss you, I promise to not command you so much — just take your medicine, act like someone who wants to live.”

He shoved himself up with a great deal of effort.

“I do want tae live, mo leannan, this is true.”

There was a brisk knock on the door and three monks entered. The main one, the healing monk, nodded toward me, the only communication. It was midday, and they had two bowls, one placed for me to bathe with after they were gone, and the other for Torin. The healing monk crouched beside Torin’s bed and the brothers silently unwrapped his wounds.

I peeked, trying to be unobtrusive — the wounds looked like they were healing. The stitches held. I couldn’t see any sign of infection or even oozing. Nothing caused me alarm.

Then the brothers gave him a sponge bath of warm water infused with herbs.

One man prayed. Then they all bowed, and left the room.

Three days, it had felt like three years, but here he was, sitting up on the edge of the bed under his own power, blinking at the dim light like a man waking from the dead — which was kind of true. Dude had his front paws on Torin’s thigh and was kneading, and really arching up into Torin’s palm as he pet him.

“How are you doing? Your wounds look much better.”

I gave myself a sponge bath, dipping the cloth in the water and washing my arms, speaking to him as I did.

“Och, I like watchin’ ye wash, ye might take yer clothes off and make it even better.”

“I am not entirely certain that I should get nude, what if the monks return?”

I lifted my skirts and washed my nether regions modestly, grinning at his expression of rapture.

“They winna come back, I promise. Just show me.”

“Torin, also, I am so hungry. I don’t think we have time for me to tantalize you.”

He looked crestfallen.

“Are we going to go to the hall for a meal? If so, we ought to move it.” I wrung out the rag.

“Och, I canna bear it, ye must let me see.” His expression was morose. “I hae been wounded, ye ought tae let me see yer heavenly gates.”

“I don’t know, Torin, this might turn into a whole thing.”

“It winna, I promise, I winna touch, I will simply look.”

“Okay, fine.” I pulled my skirts up to my waist, allowing him to gaze.

He looked very happy for a moment, but then he frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“My cock inna workin’. Why nae?” He picked up the edge of the linen sheet on his lap and looked down on himself.

“Because you’re injured, it might take another day or two.”

“I promised ye I wouldna touch ye, and usually m’cock wants me tae touch ye…” He sighed, over dramatically.

“Well this is good, you promised you wouldn’t — your cock is in agreement.”

“My cock daena usually listen tae the promises I make.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Your cock doesn’t understand when you make a promise?”