Chapter 10 #2
I watch him, eyes locked, silently urging him to continue. I’m curious, yes, but the conversation is helping to keep my attention off the pain in my hand. Although, he’s right. That disk under my tongue has started to dull the pain as it’s begun to dissolve.
I know the moment I win because he lets out a long sigh, dropping his eyes to focus on my hand as he speaks. “It appeared when I was only ten—”
“Appeared?” I interrupt. He lifts his eyes to mine and an eyebrow raises as if to say do you want to hear the story or not? “Sorry,” I mutter, and use my free hand to mime turning a key in a lock over my lips and tossing the invisible key over my shoulder.
He shakes his head with an eye roll but continues.
“As I was saying… It appeared when I was ten.” He pauses to make sure I’m not going to interrupt.
“It’s ancient Fae magic that no one really understands how it works.
These kinds of markings show up when the Fates have determined a specific path for an individual through the assignment of a mate who will have a complementary marking. ”
“Fates? You mentioned them when you spoke of the wisps. What are they exactly?”
“They’re these higher beings that weave the threads of destiny for the realm of Faerie. Or at least that’s what the legends claim.”
“Huh… So, what’s a mate then? I think I’ve seen something about them in one of the books I have back home but if I’m honest, I think I flipped past those pages.” I can feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“Books?” He lifts his brows in question.
“Yeah, well I’ve stumbled across a couple here and there from traveling vendors. I’m almost positive they were written by humans because they have some of the most outlandish stories in them, but I’ve always been… curious.”
“Yeah, I can attest to that.” He chuckles as he gets back to work, and the sound settles something in me.
“Mates are a Fate-chosen pair that are supposed to be the best fit for each other. What makes them the best fit is always different based on the pair. Sometimes it’s another equal in strength, sometimes it's someone who can balance the good and bad in the other. It’s never been something you can predict yourself.
It’s always been set out by what the Fates believe is best.”
“So, wait, let me see if I have this right. This person is like, your destined lover?”
He gives a slight shrug. “Essentially.”
He has a Fates-chosen lover out there somewhere?! Oh, my gods. What if he’s already with her. And we cuddled in bed this morning. I think I’m going to be sick.
My jaw drops. “And this is all predetermined? You don’t get a choice in the matter?” Something about that doesn’t sit right with me. What if your Fates-chosen mate is someone truly horrid? Violent. Or lecherous. How is that fair for anyone?
He tilts his head side to side. “Well, at the end of the day, everyone gets a choice. You can choose to ignore or reject the bond, but in all honesty, most don’t.
It’s a gift from the Fates and many welcome the one who is supposed to be their Fates-chosen partner.
But the mark doesn’t always indicate a mate.
It’s incredibly rare, but sometimes it can point to a different way in which the Fates have destined your path…
” He trails off for a moment. “I’ve had this for…
let’s just say quite a long time, and I’ve not yet found its paired mark yet, so it’s starting to look unlikely that’s what mine means. ”
I’m instantly relieved to learn that he hasn’t found his mate yet.
A feeling that I’m attributing to the fact that I’m not some home wrecker, and not that I’m relieved he’s single.
“Oh, I see. And why the sun?” I ask as he finishes wrapping my hand, tucking the loose end into the tightly wrapped bandage.
He chuckles lightly. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“So,” I say, drawing out the word as he gently places my injured hand back in my lap and turns to begin clearing up the supplies. “With that quite a long time comment… How old are you, exactly? The stories I’ve read say that Fae are immortal and can appear young for centuries.”
He meets my gaze with a smirk before refocusing on his clean up.
“We’re not necessarily immortal in the sense that we’ll live forever.
We do age and will eventually die of natural causes, but we age much slower than humans.
So, yes, we can live for centuries before we pass and can appear incredibly young for several of those.
As for my age, all you need to know is that I’m older than I look, but probably younger than you think. ”
“How would you know how old I think you are?” I ask with a smug smile.
“Your centuries call out for one,” he says as he gathers the jars and dirtied rags in his arms and rises from the table.
“So, are you saying that you’re not hundreds of years old, then?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he answers with a wink before he waltzes into the bedroom to put everything away.
He’s gone longer than I would’ve thought it should’ve taken to put everything away and when he returns, he takes in my bedraggled appearance and nods his head towards the bathing room behind him. “You should get cleaned up. I’ll whip up something for supper in the meantime.”
He’s right. I’m sure I look and smell like I’ve taken a swim in a bog… which I did.
I make an attempt to scramble off the sofa, which ends up stiff and stilted, and head into the bathing room, finding a neatly folded pile of clothing and a fresh towel.
A floral scent of lavender carries on the steam that I’ve noticed in the room.
There are a few candles scattered throughout the room, casting a soft glow.
I follow the source to the tub tucked in the corner that’s full with foamy water.
He drew me a bath.
I don’t know why that act brings the prick of tears to my eyes, but it does.
It’s something so small but also means so much after the hell I’ve seen in the last twelve hours.
Using my uninjured hand I clumsily strip out of my bog-soaked tunic and leggings.
Removing my boots, I notice the blade I had has disappeared, likely lost to the bottom of the marshlands.
Fully unclothed, I dip a tentative toe into the water and bite back a moan at the warm, soothing temperature of the water.
Stepping in fully, I let my body sink into its soothing embrace, keeping my injured hand above the water.
This time, I do moan. The temperature feels incredible on my sore body and muscles.
I dip in so my body from the neck down is entirely submerged.
I lean my head back against the edge of the tub, closing my eyes and simply enjoy the feeling.
After a few minutes of soaking, I scoot forward enough so that I can dip my head back into the water and wet my hair without washing away the poultice on my cheek.
Using my uninjured hand, I attempt to comb through the tangles with my fingers, but it’s a struggle.
Doing anything one-handed is difficult. Trying to tame my long hair is damn near impossible.
I let out a frustrated groan and let my hand splash back into the water, giving up. Tears prick my eyes again and I bite my lip trying to hold them back. I need to stop crying at every little thing.
A knock on the closed door startles me.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?” Bastian’s voice is gruff through the door.
The prickling burn of tears intensifies at his question.
The worst thing you can do for a person on the verge of tears is to ask them if they’re okay.
Doesn’t he know that? “Yep, fine!” I squeeze out through the tightness in my throat, my words squeakier than normal.
And I know he hears it, especially with his heightened hearing. I’m just hoping he can ignore it.
Please, please, please pretend I’m fine. Leave me to suffer in my self pity on my own, I silently beg.
All that follows for a few heartbeats is silence. It carries on for so long that I think he heard my silent plea and left me alone.
But I should’ve known better than that.
I can hear him clear his throat through the door. “Can I… come in?”
My eyes widen in panic as I process that I’m currently fully naked in this tub. “Um, I’m kind of not so decent right now!”
“I was trying to be polite, let me rephrase. I’m coming in, so cover anything you wish to hide.” His voice carries nothing but command.
I scramble to use my uninjured hand to spread some of the foamy bubbles to ensure that all my delicate bits are concealed.
“Fine, come in,” I call back. The door swings open almost immediately.
“Why ask for my consent if you intended to enter anyway, Sebastian?” I ask with a scowl, the anger doing wonders for pushing the tears further back.
If he’s surprised at my use of his full name, he doesn’t show it. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You need help, Liv. Just let me.”
“How exactly are you supposed to help me?”
His eyes track around the room and land on the unopened bottle of shampoo before flicking back to my tangled hair. “I’m guessing you can’t quite manage washing your hair one-handed.”
“I’m fine. I can handle it. You’ve already done enough.
I don’t want to have to owe you anything more for all you’ve done to help me.
” I don’t really know why I’m fighting him.
Or maybe I do. Maybe I think we’re getting too close, and we need to put distance between us and this whole thing of him helping to wash my hair feels so incredibly intimate and eats into that distance all the more.
We’re hopefully heading out tomorrow and soon I’ll be home.
And he possibly has a predestined lover out there waiting on him.
Nothing could ever happen between the two of us.
Nothing should ever happen. Not a human and a Fae.
We’re not built for anything but being reluctant allies right now.