30. Luna
CHAPTER THIRTY
LUNA
I stirred the embers of our campfire as the pale purple of earliest dawn touched the sky.
Benedetto limped to his horse, favoring his bitten leg. I watched as he put the pad on, then heaved the saddle up, wincing as he had to put weight on the bad leg.
Beads of sweat stood out on his temples as he continued putting the tack on his stallion, who danced from food to foot nervously.
"We need to get moving," he said curtly. "We've already lost too much time."
Rising to my feet, I glanced at his swollen leg. "You shouldn't be riding yet. You can barely stand."
He tightened the girth, his jaw clenched in determination.
Why had he been pushing himself like this? A surge of worry rose in me. He had been acting like he was running out of time. But why?
It should have taken us four weeks to get here, rather than three. At this pace, he’d told me it would be four days before we arrived at the pass.
Benedetto swung himself up onto his horse with a grimace, pain etched on his face.
"I'm fine," he said. "We need to reach the pass before nightfall. Saddle your horse."
I stood and crossed my arms. "No, you're not fine. You're being reckless."
He had never listened to me before. Why would he start now? He'd been determined to do everything on his own, no matter the cost.
My gelding cooperated for once and I was in the saddle in a few moments, watching as Benedetto winced with every stride of his mount. We rode for an hour before he slumped in the saddle, his face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. I quickly dismounted, looped the reins on a branch and rushed to his side as he swayed.
"Bene, stop." I grabbed his arm to steady him. “Let me look at your leg.”
He groaned and slid off the horse with a painful grunt. "Damn it. We can't afford to stop now."
This wasn't just stubbornness then. He had been genuinely afraid of losing time. But why? What had he not told me? Why wasn’t he trusting me on this trek?
Hobbling, Benedetto took the few steps to a large oak tree nearby and sat down with a wince. After making sure the horses were tied, I pulled out the bandages and medicinal herbs, my hands moved quickly as I assessed the wound.
Swollen enough to make rolling his trouser leg up difficult, the skin around the bandage felt hot to the touch.
"You need to rest." I dribbled water on the old bandage to loosen it before changing it. "If we don't treat this properly, it will get worse."
Benedetto glared at me, his temper flaring. "I wouldn't have gotten the injury in the first place if you hadn't needed protecting," he said.
His words stung like a slap.
I fought back the urge to recoil.
Instead, I pulled out lavender oil and applied it to the wound and the area surrounding, then a thin layer of honey.
The scent of lavender soothed me a little, and it was known to help with infections, as was honey. As I wrapped the bandage, I said quietly, "I never asked you to try to protect me. I can take care of myself."
"Clearly," he said sarcastically.
“And the fever must be affecting your brain, since I remember saving you.” Anger and hurt warred within me, but I’d had my share of wounds too. I wasn’t sweet when they hurt either.
He looked away, his jaw clenched. Exhaustion etched into the lines of his face, but there was something else there too. Something haunted and desperate.
"You're not invincible." I stood and wiped the oil and honey from my hands. "No matter how much you pretend to be."
I turned away, busying myself with packing up the medical supplies. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words.
"We should get moving," Benedetto said finally. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he put weight on his injured leg.
"No," I said firmly, poking him in the chest. "You need to rest. Pushing yourself will only make it worse."
He glared at me, his expression flashing with a mix of anger and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "We don't have time to rest. We need to finish this."
"And what good will you be if you collapse from exhaustion?" I said, my temper flaring. "You act like a hot-headed fool when you need to think. I thought you were cold and calculating, not a green boy rushing to a fight."
Benedetto scoffed, shaking his head. "Says the woman riding with me to a fight that’s not hers. Who doesn’t think before she acts."
I stared at him, struggling with the urge to kick his leg enough to make a sharp point. "We'll rest for today. Then we'll continue on to the pass. The horses could use some rest too."
Benedetto looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have stopped him. He lowered himself back down to the ground with a grimace.
I made camp, staking Dawn and Biter to graze and kindling a small fire, where I brewed willow tea and steeped marigolds for another wash for his wound.
The silence stretched and Benedetto watched me go about the camp shores until he fell into an uneasy sleep.
I made stew for lunch, using dried meat and vegetables, adding some wild onion from nearby. A hot meal wouldn’t hurt him. The scent filled the camp, and for a moment, I could almost pretend the situation wasn’t dire.
Clouds rolled in, dark and pregnant with rain and I set up our small shelter. When he woke, I planned to point out that riding in the rain would have made everything worse for him and he should just admit I was right, and he was wrong.
And then I’d check to see if the mood was suddenly made of cheese.
I carried over a bowl and nudged Benedetto awake. He blinked, stretched, and winced. He moved to a sitting position with a hiss of pain, frustration tightening his expression.
When I handed Benedetto a bowl, he sniffed hopefully. We took turns cooking, and sometimes what I made was good, and sometimes…not so good. I tried to duplicate the good versions, and this one had turned out well a couple times as we traveled.
But he took a bite, his expression carefully neutral. His face lightened as he just chewed slowly and gave me a small smile.
It was a small gesture, but it was enough to make my chest ache. Maybe there was hope for us.
I ate my share, setting some aside for the evening and banking the fire.
When he finished the soup, Benedetto gritted his teeth as he tried to push himself up, his injured leg buckling beneath him. "Damn it," he huffed a breath out. "Help me up."
"Not unless it’s to move to the tent," I said flatly. "You need to rest. I won't help you get back on that horse until you've both had a proper break."
"You're being impossible," he said, irritation flashing across his face.
"And you're being foolish," I said. "Rest. You couldn’t fight in this condition anyway."
He grumbled. Before I helped him into the shelter, I changed the bandage and used the marigold wash in addition to all the other treatments. It looked a little better, but still swollen and red. I’d never seen him really hurt before. I watched him struggle to find a comfortable position. Pushing himself to the brink, never willing to admit when he needed help.
But even through the frustration, I couldn't ignore the worry gnawing at my gut. A wound like that could turn deadly.
I ducked into the shelter at dusk as the rain began to fall, a steady drumming against the tent shielding us. I shivered in a draft of the damp then stretched out beside Benedetto. His warmth was a comfort, and I hoped mine was to him.
We lay together as the storm raged above us. Bright lightning etched the canvas in light, followed by a roar of thunder.
Finally, Benedetto rolled onto his good side to face me and put an arm around me. "I'm…worried, Luna. That I might lose you, fail Francesco. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to either of you."
I cupped his cheek. "I'm scared too. But we can't let that fear control us. We have to trust in each other, work together. That's the only way we'll make it through this."
He leaned into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "I trust you as much as I can. More than I trusted anyone else. But I'm not used to relying on others."
I leaned in, pressing my forehead against his. "I know. Sleep, Bene. It’ll help."
He let out a shuddering breath, his arm pulling me closer. I melted into his embrace, feeling the tension drain from my body. This was where I wanted to be. Right here, in his arms.
The storm raged on, and I watched him sleep. Even as lightning lit the sky, a sense of calm settled over me. I pressed a gentle kiss to Benedetto's jaw.
Tomorrow would be better for us.
I woke at dawn with a wave of nausea rolling over me. I staggered out of the tent, slipping on the muddy ground and wet plants and vomited into the bushes.
Benedetto sat up more easily than he had yesterday. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"
I wiped my mouth, taking a shaky breath. "Just the stew I made last night. I shouldn't have had a second helping."
Straightening up, I moved to the fire. No coal would have survived that storm, so I set about kindling a new one. While I had enough marigold wash to cleanse his wound this morning, I wanted to make some to carry with us. Also, I wanted hot tea to soothe my stomach.
“Come out and I’ll change the dressing. Then breakfast. Then if your wound looks better, we can try to reach the pass before nightfall," I said lightly.
Moving slowly, he emerged from the tent and regarded me with his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine." I put the iron pot on to heat water. "Let's take a look at that wound."
From nowhere, a bitter thought intruded. I was useful now. Once he achieved his goal, he would cast me aside like everyone else had.
But even as the thought crossed my mind, I couldn't ignore the other part of me that said I was wrong. That the connection we had forged was real, that it meant something more than just a temporary alliance.
Scald the moon, I cursed silently, shaking my head as I finished bandaging. I should stop thinking like that. Not now, not ever.
So many thoughts, all of them forcing themselves in my mind. And perhaps the same was happening to Benedetto.
Moonshifter influenced minds. Could a Sorcerer create a magic so subtle we couldn’t easily detect it? I’d perceived no spell on us. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
I wished with all my heart Sofia was here so I could ask.