Chapter 8 Azahara
Azahara
Acobblestone walkway began several yards away from the front door, lined with flowers of all different colors.
The door was a bright blue, a call to its owners’ sapphire eyes.
The white exterior was wrapped in vines, but not as if it were unkept.
They were meticulously placed to extenuate the harsh edges of the cottage.
It was two stories, and the roof peaked toward Paradise in several places.
Windows wrapped around the front of the house, and a single window that was open rested on the second floor.
A stone chimney rose from the ground, out of the ceiling; no smoke billowing from it.
Tall trees embraced the rear of the dwelling while scattered flower patches adorned the meadow on its right side.
Adjacent to the house, a vacant horse stable stood, offering space to secure a maximum of two horses.
A wooden barrel nearby provided a source of water, and a modest overhang provided shelter and shade during the summer months.
“I call this place my Drom Aluinn.” She smiled sweetly.
“It means Beautiful Mountain.” She glanced at Kaed.
“If you stand on that side.” She was pointing off to the right of the house, where the stable was.
“And you look at the house, with the mountains behind it, the peaks of the roof seem to melt into the background.” That was the first time she’d ever told that to someone.
Unexpectedly, a burden lifted from her chest, granting her a profound sense of relief. She inhaled deeply, savoring the newfound freedom, and exhaled slowly, letting go of what she had held inside for so long.
“It’s beautiful,” Kaed said with an awed voice.
Proud of everything she had put into her home, she would agree.
He emitted a soft whistle, calling for Moondancer, and made sure to avert his gaze from Azahara to avoid startling her with the sound.
She walked the stone steps and opened the door. “Come on in when you get her settled, I’ll start the fire.”
It was warm already, even with no fire going.
The smell of vanilla and peppermint hugged the room.
It was cozy, an open concept place with everything one would expect: a kitchen, dining room table set for four, a living room space with a checkered sofa, chair, and table, a closed door that would go to a privy, the fireplace which had wood placed in it, and across the room, a staircase that would take them to the second floor.
There, two bedrooms and a washroom awaited.
A very rustic feeling—homey and welcoming.
The decor was simple, nothing of note besides the walls of what looked like books. There were words written on the binds, but it was hard to see them unless up close. They spanned from one side of the wall to the other, from floor to ceiling. There were only a few empty spaces.
She made her way to the fireplace, thankful that there was wood already cut and ready to burn beside it. By the looks of things, Illyan hadn’t left too long before they got there.
Placing the wood into the brick structure, she adjusted it to settle into the ash.
She scratched the match head against the side of the fireplace and watched as it caught fire.
Placing it down, she grabbed a few shreds of paper and began sprinkling them over the flame until it grabbed hold and began billowing smoke through the chimney.
Kaed walked in shortly after, holding two saddlebags, and a ruck, setting them down to the side of the door. He took a visibly deep breath, a smile playing on his lips. His shoulders dropped slightly, as if he had been tensed up and finally was relaxing.
“It’s very nice.” He took another step in, and she watched him expectantly, wondering what was going through his mind. “I would never leave.” He caught the words and continued quickly, “If I were you.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I have spent years here without ever leaving. I love this place, but it will feel like a prison after a while.”
He nodded in understanding. “I could spend many, many days here.” There was a sense of wonder in his eyes as he took in her sanctuary, his gaze lingering on every detail.
Observing the pure bliss that spread across his face as he smiled, a warmth enveloped her body.
It wasn’t that she would have minded if he had disliked it, but witnessing the opposite, the feeling that surged within her was simply indescribable.
“I won’t run you out.” Giving him a playful wink, she strolled to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
Kaed removed his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the front door. He let out a groan, catching her attention immediately. As he lowered his arm, a hint of hesitation flickered across his face.
He saw her expression and waved his hand. “It’s nothing.”
“Really? Nothing?”
“I think, in comparison to your wounds, it’s nothing.” His words only deepened her sense of worry.
“Let me see,” she commanded.
There was mock shock on his face. “Demanding, are we.” A sigh escaped as if he felt defeat. “It’s nothing, I promise.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Let me be the judge of that.” His head tilted in an attempt to read her. Her arms were at her hips, waiting expectantly. The soft chuckle of defeat was his only answer.
They both moved to the center of the living room, where Kaed sat on the couch and turned to face the cushions. She hadn’t realized how massive he was until he was sitting on a sofa that was a perfect size for her stature. He was a solid piece of muscle that demanded the space around him.
He took a moment but quickly removed his shirt. His right arm shaking as it seemed to struggle to lift higher than above his shoulders. She helped pull the fabric over his head, his golden hair falling across his back and shoulders.
Oh my gods… Her eyes widened.
She stood above him, her gaze fixed on his shoulders and back.
They bore a tapestry of scars, at least fifteen visible to her eyes.
As she looked closer, she discovered even more.
Her attention shifted from one scar to another until she caught sight of dried blood and a minor cut on the back of his right shoulder.
Discoloration extended from his neck to his shoulder blades, likely a result of the fall from Moondancer.
“Say something.” Kaed looked over his shoulder at her, a neutral expression settled.
“I’m—” She reached out and gently ran her fingers over a long, deep scar from the top of his spine and nearly dragged the entire length of his back.
His head turned away from her quickly, but she would swear she saw his eyes roll upward.
“I should clean up your wound. The new one, that is.” Her fingers broke away from his skin, and she turned to walk towards the wall of books when his hand grasped her forearm—the action causing her to gasp and whip her head back towards him.
Kaed raised his head and found her gaze.
“Hideous?” There wasn’t sadness or anger behind his question. Pure curiosity, she supposed.
“No,” she responded quickly. “Not at all.” I’m envious. She thought, making sure to keep that comment to herself.
His body told a story. While his wounds were painful, and maybe some he wished he could forget, he had made it out of them.
Alive and stronger for it. He wasn’t remade every year to forget what he had gone through.
“They are a part of you and your life.” A gentle smile crossing her lips. “And that is beautiful.”
Her words seemed to act as a trigger, prompting him to release his grip on her.
He averted his gaze and took a deep breath, his chest expanding, capturing her attention.
She couldn’t help but think how perfect he was, every aspect of him, from the scars that adorned his body to the birthmark at his hip.
It felt as if he had been crafted specifically for her as if she had created her ideal vision of perfection, and Kaed was the embodiment of that.
She crossed the room and ran her fingers along the spines of the books. “I’m going to make some medicine to apply to your wound.” She’d make enough that she could put it on her own, as well.
“It really isn’t a problem; you don’t need to trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble—ah, here it is.” She selected a book from the stack, running her finger along the pages to separate them. Once her eyes had scanned through the contents, she decisively closed the book with a resounding slap and returned it to its original position.
Making her way to the kitchen, she began rummaging through, grabbing things here and there: Chamomile, echinacea, and other herbs that weren’t labeled.
“You have a lot of books,” he commented. “I’ve only seen so many in the Order’s libraries or archives. Never in someone’s home.”
She laughed, wondering what he would think if she told him she wrote all of them.
“I’d like to say I’ve read them all. Most of them are hundreds of years old, so I rarely touch them for fear of them falling apart.
” She ground the ingredients into a small bowl, pushing down, which strained her shoulder. Biting back a wince, she swapped hands.
“That’s where you get your love of writing, I take it.”
“You could say that.”
Before going back to him, she ran her hands under the water, and with a bit of soap, she cleaned the grime that had built up over the last couple of days.
Grabbing a hand towel and wetting it, she took a step backward and spun on her heel to head back toward him. She spotted him still sitting on the sofa, one of the pillows in his hands. His thumb was brushing against the fabric, and she wondered what he was thinking.
Taking a seat behind him, she rested the bowl between her thighs. “Do you remember them?” She asked hesitantly. “Where they came from? Who caused them?”
She dabbed his wound gently, wiping away the dried blood and dirt that had gathered around it. While it wasn’t a deep cut, it still could lead to infection.
“Touch one you’d like to know about,” he said, straightening his back and turning his head to see her.
Her lips pressed together tightly as she took a deep breath, placing her fingers against a spot on his hip. His eyes closed, followed by a soft groan in his throat that remained shy of escaping his lips.
“A knife, in my earlier years of joining the Academy.” She took the ointment onto her fingers as he spoke and gently spread it over his cut.
“Most younglings, Elves that have yet to hit maturity, that want to join the Order, they do a real-world experiment. Unfortunately, we were ambushed by raiders, and I—we barely made it out alive. One had stabbed me while we were running. Thankfully, there were teachers and healers there for the experiment.”
“Thankfully,” Azahara echoed. He hadn’t moved once as she applied the cream to his skin. “All done. See, no trouble at all.”
“Thank you,” he said as she wiped her fingers and placed the towel and cream on the table.
“Can I… do another?” she asked sheepishly.
A throaty chuckle. “Please.”
Readjusting in her seat, she looked through his back.
It was like a map, some places barely touched, others where she was surprised skin even existed.
Her fingers hovered so close to his skin that she felt his heat radiating off of him, and when she touched again, she saw small bumps rise at his neck.
“That one, the trio…” There were three stacked, one on top of the other.
“A shapeshifter who had murdered an entire family in its village shifted to be a lion, and its claws caught me.” She winced, her index, middle, and ring finger pressing gently on the marks and drawing from his axilla back towards his spine.
She could sit here, listen, talk, and touch him forever.
“Maybe.” He leaned forward and shifted to face her now. Her eyes immediately moved to look no further down than his nose. “I should put some of that on your wound.”
Recognizing his correctness, she drew in a deep breath and shook her head, dispelling the haze that had begun to settle like fog in her mind. “Of course. Um, let me go get cleaned up, and I’ll come back down for the treatment.” Remembering that she still needed to give back his shirt.
He nodded in agreement.
“I’ll be back shortly. Feel free to make yourself at home. There is some fresh produce in the pantry for Moondancer if you want to bring her some.” She stood with no argument from Kaed. Before she ascended the stairs, she paused.
“Hey, um—” Looking back at him, he was standing and putting his shirt back on. She swallowed. “I just ask you don’t touch the books. They are… important to me.”
“I think I can manage that.”