Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Alyx
Islurped the last of the stew from the flat wooden bowl, my belly pleasantly full. Kelvar glanced at me sidelong, and I thought I saw a flare of satisfaction in his gaze. He had done an impressive job turning the meager supplies he carried with him into a warm meal.
“I didn’t know they taught Warlords how to cook,” I commented as I set my bowl to the side.
“There is nothing saying we aren’t allowed to teach ourselves,” he pointed out.
“It seems like a lot to take on, alongside training the riders and doing your Lord’s bidding. Besides, what is the point when you are welcome at the Lord’s own campfire and can have a share of the choicest meats from every hunt?”
Kelvar shrugged, and I couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles of his broad shoulders bunched.
He had insisted I keep his robe, and I wrapped it around me, nearly drowning in it even as it shielded me from the sun, leaving him in only a belted vest and loose pants.
I could insist on wearing the robe stolen from the fallen rider, but this one smelled like Kelvar.
“You have to be at the encampment to enjoy such privileges,” he said, drawing my attention away from the contours of his muscles exaggerated by the deep shadows of late afternoon.
“Are you away from the encampment often?” I asked, cocking my head.
“More often than not.”
I frowned. It seemed unusual. Clan Padra’s own Warlord shared in my family’s stewpot nearly every night, updating his Lord on the training of the riders and any whispers from other clans.
I often wished he were away more, thanks to his tendency to sit next to me at the fire, sidling far too close—a behavior I suspected my father encouraged.
“So, you’re frequently away kidnapping defenseless daughters for your Lord?” I asked.
Kelvar snorted. “This is actually a first. Normally I’m off to fight a duel in his name or lead a raid on another clan. And I wouldn’t call you defenseless. You scared away those attacking riders’ horses all on your own. I only felled one of them, while you handled the other two.”
I folded my arms, pulling his robe tighter around me.
The action brought a wave of his scent to my nose, and I had to make a concerted effort not to inhale deeply.
The smell warmed me almost as much as his revelation that I wasn’t as helpless as my father seemed to think.
Still, I snorted, “You were the one who seemed to think it was laughable when I pointed a knife at you.”
Kelvar looked at me thoughtfully, the sun catching in his dark eyes, making their near blackness shine a kaleidoscope of browns and golds.
“One can be taught how to hold a knife or wield a sword. Resourcefulness and bravery are harder to impart, both of which you have in spades. You made that clear enough when you endured the storm of my anger without fear. And the raw power that resides in you, well… I’ve not encountered it’s like. Except—”
Kelvar cut himself off, but I knew what he was thinking.
“Except you,” I finished for him.
He shook his head. “Not even then. Healing is something I’ve never been able to master. It’s a precious gift. It’s no wonder your parents treasure you so.”
“It’s an odd curse to be protected so closely you’re barely allowed to live.” The words sprang forth with a vehemence I hadn’t known lived within me.
It was Kelvar’s turn to frown. “Why did they never teach you to fight or use your power to protect yourself if they were so concerned?”
“You could never heal, and I could never manage even the slightest bit of destruction,” I explained. “By the time my parents realized my power was only good for healing, they decided it was too dangerous to have me train with a sword. After all, training with the riders would put me in harm’s way.”
“And you never fought them on it?”
“I did argue. But I’m not sure I understood the freedom I was missing until—” It was my turn to cut myself off.
Of course, I had known the desert was vast and dangerous and beautiful. But it was one thing to be aware, whether through stories or through my magic’s sightless sense, and it was another to taste the freedom on the breeze and watch the horizon stretch in every direction with endless possibility.
It was strange to experience liberation through being kidnapped, and I wasn’t sure I could ever go back. I shook my head, not willing to entertain those thoughts right now.
“What about you?” I probed instead. “A legendary Warlord, and yet you seem to ask for none of the respect you are due. I’ve seen your power. You could shake the very foundation of the desert if you dared, but you’ve never reached for more.”
Kelvar turned his face from me, turning toward the fire and throwing another stick on it, though, we no longer needed it for cooking, and the chill of night was hours off yet. “I hadn’t found anything that was worth risking what I had already gained.”
“Hadn’t?” I echoed. “That’s changed, though?”
Silence stretched as Kelvar poked at the fire, the crackling of its glowing flames the only noise in the quiet wilderness. He had summoned the fire with a twitch of his fingers, but now he seemed to tend it only to have something to do with his hands.
He didn’t respond for long enough that I thought he was going to ignore my question.
Then, murmured so softly it nearly melded with the pop of burning palm fronds, he said, “Perhaps we are teaching each other to dream.”
I slept through the night and late into the morning of the following day as well. When I woke, sunlight filtered through my eyes a burning red. I raised a hand to shield my face as I squinted, finding myself alone next to the burnt-out embers of the fire.
Sitting up, I looked around for Kelvar and Dileas and found them in the open stretch of sand outside the palms circling the pool of the oasis.
I grabbed the spare hood lying in the sand beside me and wrapped it around my head to protect me from the sun before pushing to my feet and picking my way toward them.
Neither of them seemed to notice me as I paused beneath one of the date palms near the outskirts of the oasis.
Kelvar stood in the middle of a slightly worn circle, turning on his heel to watch Dileas as she walked around him in a broad arc.
He clicked his tongue, and she transitioned to a trot with surprising smoothness.
I had known she was a fine horse, but even I had to admit that her gait could compete with my own stallion’s.
I tore my eyes away from her shining coat and lovely, long neck to check on her injured leg—or at least, previously injured. From this distance, I could barely even see the scar where her bone had broken through her skin.
A shiver ran up my spine. I had healed broken legs on horses before, but none so seamlessly as Dileas’s, especially given how severe her injury had been.
It seemed as though my power was closer at hand ever since I had left Clan Padra.
Perhaps the vastness of the open desert around me had deepened my connection to her.
Perhaps it was something else.
Kelvar spotted me, and with another click of his tongue, he brought Dileas to a halt. I picked my way out from the shade of the date palm closer to them.
“She’s doing well,” I remarked.
“Better than I ever could have hoped,” he agreed. His dark eyes shone in the light of the bright sun. “And… how are you doing?”
I cocked my head before answering honestly, “Well. I would have expected to feel worse after such a healing.”
“You’ve slept for the better part of two days, and you expected worse?”
“My gift is a double-edged sword,” I answered with a shrug of my shoulders. “It seems to have a mind of its own.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Kelvar looked away and scrubbed the back of his neck. The gesture was at odds with the confident, even cocky attitude I had come to expect from him.
“The desert gives and it takes.” The words spilled from my lips before I had a chance to think—a refrain so common among the clans that it could serve almost any purpose, from a greeting to a threat.
This time though, the meaning hung true.
The desert’s power was a weighty gift, and both of us had experienced its costs in the past days.
Dileas did not have patience for our reflection, interrupting by nudging her head into my chest with such force I stumbled back a step.
“You’re certainly energetic,” I commented, reaching up to pat her silky forelock.
“I still want her to rest, but she doesn’t seem particularly inclined to stay off her feet,” Kelvar huffed.
I turned and walked back toward the oasis, clucking at Dileas over my shoulder. “Come, let’s get you some water.” Perhaps a nice patch of shade would induce her to relax.
Back near the remnants of our fire from the night before, Kelvar sat on a flat rock at the edge of the clear pool, while Dileas drank her fill. As he did, he reached up to untie a length of cloth around his arm. He hissed as it pulled away from his skin.
I blinked in shock as three deep scratches came into view, cutting across the muscular bulge of his shoulder. I hadn’t noticed his injury in all the chaos since the caracals attacked, but my heart leaped into my throat. He had jumped between me and the predators without hesitation.
Edging toward him, I reached out. “Let me help.”
Kelvar pulled back, out of my reach, and shook his head. “You don’t need to.”
“But I—” I chewed my cheek. “I want to.”
Kelvar’s expression softened fractionally from the grimace of pain etched on it. “These scratches do far less harm than worrying about you lying unconscious for another two days.”
Warmth bloomed in my chest and trailed down to my stomach.
“There are ways to help that don’t involve magic, you know,” I started, still reaching out toward his injuries. “I don’t think making sure your cuts are properly cleaned and bandaged will knock me out.”
Kelvar hesitated for just a moment then nodded.