Chapter 2 Azahara #2
He rummaged through the pack that hung from the horse’s side. “We aren’t in a place where I can clean up before suturing your wound, so we will need to get you to a proper healer sometime soon.” He pulled a small pouch out and walked back over toward her.
Azahara turned from him quickly so as not to expose herself. “Do you want to sit while I do this? It is going to hurt.” He was right behind her, his presence looming.
“Ugh...” Azahara groaned and walked towards a haystack. She grabbed it by the rope with her good arm and pulled it to the center of the barn where he stood. She sat on the edge, leaving enough space for Kaed to sit behind her.
Without explicitly receiving permission, he poured water over her wound for a final cleaning and began to work, understanding her silence as a sign to proceed.
It hurt like hell.
Azahara’s hand tightened, her knuckles turning white as she stifled soft screams through clenched teeth.
Each time he pushed the needle through her skin, it felt like a hot iron seared an open wound.
The only relief was that the surrounding skin and the wound hadn’t become too sensitive or sore yet, for which she felt grateful.
Thankfully, as he had been before, Kaed was gentle. Anytime he’d thread the needle through her skin, he would slowly pull the string through, his hand resting against the back of her neck to give her something to lean against.
His hands were massive, so large that when he held the nape of her neck, his fingers encircled her throat, exerting gentle pressure against the vital vein of life.
Her heart raced, and she couldn’t determine if it was due to the placement of his hand or the seemingly endless stitching of her skin that made time stretch on indefinitely.
“Almost there,” he said, and she sucked in a deep breath, holding it as time seemed to elongate.
Each second stretched out, making the anticipation unbearable.
She focused on the rhythm of her breathing, hoping to find solace in its steadying cadence, even as the minutes crawled by at an excruciating pace.
“Done.” His hand moved from her neck, and she released the air from her lungs. The sound of scissors snipping the thread, and a small tug on the wound ended her torment.
“You did great. Good… good job.” His hand pressed gently to the other shoulder and gave it a squeeze before standing and moving away from her. For some reason, she thought he was going to say good girl. It sent a weird chill down her spine and causing her stomach to do summersaults.
She stood up and rolled her head around her shoulders, feeling a sense of relief. “Thank you again.” As she attempted to slip the shirt back on, she encountered difficulty due to its dampness and limited arm mobility. Frustration crept in, and she softly muttered, “Damn it.”
There was a low laugh emanating from near the horse, catching Azahara’s attention. She turned her head to see Kaed laughing at her. Confused, she furrowed her brows and gave him a quizzical look, silently asking, “What’s so funny?”
“Sorry,” he said, his smile infectious. It made her smile, roll her eyes, and shake her head.
“Something tells me you aren’t,” she remarked.
“I have an extra shirt for you.” He pulled a large black T-shirt from the sack and walked towards her.
“No—I couldn’t.” She really should take it, but something about taking this complete stranger’s clothes seemed too intimate.
“You’ll threaten an infection if you put that shirt on. If you can even get it back on.” He was beside her before she could protest anymore. “Now, I’m telling you to take your shirt off.”
Azahara could feel her face flushing as she noticed the lingering smile on his lips.
As he turned her around, his eyes held no hint of lust. With careful movements, he slid the other side of her shirt off, just as he had done earlier.
His fingers moved swiftly, never lingering in one place for too long.
Before she could even think of telling him to stop, her shirt lay discarded on the floor.
He carefully slipped the shirt over her head, mindful not to disturb her hair, and guided her arm through the sleeve.
A blush crossed her cheeks. “Thanks again.” Her hands came together in front of her, and she nervously rubbed them together.
“You’re welcome,” he responded after a moment. “It’s the least I could do.” He glanced at her with weary eyes. She thought she detected a hint of red on his cheeks, but he quickly turned away to put away his things.
“I’ll clean it and get it back to you.” There was no point in taking her shirt and corset, she’d leave them lying around the barn.
“No rush,” he said over his shoulder.
She moved over to where she’d dropped her bag on entry to the barn, and began rummaging through it.
“Need help?” She could hear him beginning to move back towards her.
“No.” She leaned against the haystack for support. “Just making sure I didn’t lose anything.” His footsteps halted, and she dared a glance in his direction but quickly averted her eyes, focusing on her bag instead.
With steady hands, she pulled out three journals, all worse for wear. One looked as old as dirt, but surprisingly enough, it was tightly held together. The stitching on its spine seemed to have been recently replaced. The other two were in better shape.
Alongside the journals, she placed four daggers, all but one lacking a sheath. One of the daggers had blood on the hilt, which Azahara quickly wiped away on her pants.
She deftly flipped the blade with careful precision, grasping its sharp end without a single nick. “You are quite skilled with those blades. Practiced with them a long time I take it?” Kaed commented as he approached her.
“I suppose I’ve had a lifetime of practice,” she murmured.
“That, and I’ve read a lot about previous knife throwers who studied the craft.
” In truth, she was speaking of her own writing.
“I’ve tried swords, but with my short frame, they overpower me.
Swordsmiths don’t take into account women wanting to wield them.
Even archery...” A small chuckle escaped her lips.
“My legs are strong, but unfortunately, not my arms.”
She looked up briefly to see Kaed watching her. “Even if you hadn’t shown your skill in the field already, I could tell you’re an archer by your upper body,” she said, her gaze fixed on his muscular arms and chiseled chest, seen through his soaked tunic. “How long have you been practicing?”
He seemed to cross his arms then, instinctively. “Several centuries now. Doesn’t feel long enough, though.”
His voice was remarkably calming, even amidst the looming danger.
Azahara found herself captivated by his words, feeling as though she could listen to him endlessly without growing weary.
“I can personally attest that you possess remarkable skill with that bow,” she complimented. “The centuries have done you well.”
Before she returned to inspecting the bag, she caught a glimpse of his smile. It caused her heart to quicken its pace, prompting her to redirect her attention back to her belongings hastily. By the Mother, that smile.
Finding the sheath for that dagger, she placed them all side by side and continued. A broken pencil, some coin, an apple, and what looked like a vial of white liquid later, she quickly packed it back away minus the apple. “Everything is here.”
The shirt that Kaed had offered her was big around her waist, so she tucked some of it into her pants so it wouldn’t get in her way. The only part that fit in a sense was the chest area, which sucked for her shoulder blade.
She then moved over to the horse, tossing the apple in her hand, and looked for Kaed’s approval. “Can I give this to…”
“Moondancer, that’s her name. I’m sure she’d like that.” He moved to her then, hesitating a few feet or so away. “Thank you.”
She smiled at him, “Sure, it’s no problem.”
As Kaed brushed his hand across the backside of Moondancer, the horse eagerly took the apple from Azahara’s hand and began munching on it. The horse expressed its contentment with a gentle neigh.
“So.” Kaed pulled Azahara’s attention. “I am worried about your wound; it needs proper healing. Normally, I’d leave you to be cared for by the village apothecary and hope for the best, but…
” He paused, but only briefly. “There is a chance the Gorruks would go after you, and I can’t let that happen. ”
She understood that the concern was primarily for the townsfolk, but it still warmed her to think that there was genuine care directed toward her. She didn’t want to burden him or make herself his responsibility.
The look on his face was unwavering as he continued, “I’d like to take you to one of the Order’s outposts, but that possesses its issues.” He sighed, rubbing his temple.
She brushed her hand across Moondancer’s long neck, watching and listening to Kaed with intent.
“There are closer outposts, but they won’t have what we need.
They are stations built to get Order soldiers and rangers to the smaller villagers as soon as possible.
We will have to go to the coastal post, which is about an eight-day ride. ”
Understanding, she nodded her head. “Can Moondancer do that with two riders?”
Kaed smiled. “Not as fast, but she can manage.” He looked her up and down, and she felt him wanting to say something else but stifling it.
She wasn’t frail by any means, nor was she a light load. Her body was built of muscle and breasts, hips and ass to make a goddess jealous. Which in her case was not the greatest of compliments. The last thing she wanted to do was piss off another holier-than-thou being.
Merely a weak human. She thought.
“She was built for this,” he continued, likely seeing the concerned expression on her face. “We will have to give her breaks, of course. She can’t run forever.”
She nodded in understanding.