Chapter 8 #2
"It's the fire, the cold, being hungry all day," he said more quietly.
She blinked at him.
"It makes it taste better."
"Oh."
Reis felt something painful twist in his chest. She had just tried to compliment him and he had laughed. Not at her, but something told him she wouldn't recognize that.
Idiot.
Reis rubbed his hand over his jaw as he watched her silvered eyes pour their gaze into her bowl.
"It's good stew."
"What?"
"The stew." He scowled at the fire. "It's good."
He was trying to agree with her, but the words sounded awkward and forced.
Then a tiny smile appeared.
The twisting tightness in his chest eased and Reis realized he liked it more when she smiled.
*
Mirielle woke from a deep sleep to the smell of first rain.
Drizzle fell from the sky like soft whispers.
Rainwater dripped from the oak boughs, tapping on the fabric that made up her tent.
For one blissful moment she lay dreamily and warm beneath soft furs that separated her from the wet world around her.
Then the pain settled in.
A dull ache pulled through her neck and shoulder. The kind of ache you get when sleeping with the wrong pillow. She drew her fingers to the base of her skull. Sleeping on the small bedroll over hard ground had made the muscles in her back and shoulders stiff and angry.
And her ribs—
When she tried to rise, a piercing pain speared through her side, strong enough to steal her breath from her lungs. Mirielle groaned as she curled into them.
Reis spotted her from beside the campfire, concern etched into his face as her breaths came shallow and labored.
He walked to her shelter and crouched at her feet.
"Gravewort must have worn off," he muttered.
"Gravewort?" Her voice was a gasp.
"The powder that prince put in your drink. It's also a powerful painkiller."
Mirielle blinked the fogginess from her eyes. Morning drowsiness still clung to her. Her body felt strangely heavy, as though she were still half asleep.
Reis watched her in silence for a time, warring with something in his mind.
Then he finally spoke. "I need to look at it."
Mirielle raised her gaze to his. Reis watched her, not in a demanding way but in the way someone would wait for someone else to accept a truth they already knew. Somebody did need to look at it. She knew that. But the thought of Reis being the one to do it made her hair stand on end.
"It's fine."
Reis became grim. "It isn't."
"How do you know if you haven't seen it?" Her voice was threaded with implication.
Something cold settled over Reis. She thought he would have touched her while she was unconscious. The realization landed like a blow.
"I watched you move yesterday."
Mirielle frowned.
"You favor your right side because it hurts. You brace yourself before you stand because it hurts."
Mirielle winced.
"And every time you laugh, you stop halfway because it hurts." Reis's voice was oddly angered.
He thought about telling her that his gift could sense that she was in some level of pain, her heart working harder than it should, her breathing labored. But something told him that would worsen his chances.
His gaze lowered and his voice quieted. "I need to know if it's cracked or broken."
Mirielle could hear her own heartbeat quicken. The injury itself wasn't the problem. It was the closeness of it, being vulnerable to him. She hated the idea. Something dark passed over his face as he noticed her discomfort.
"Princess."
She looked up at him slowly.
"If I had anyone else, I'd make them do it." He sighed through his nose and cocked his head. "I'm not trying to embarrass you."
Her cheeks reddened anyway.
"I need to know you're not more injured than we think."
She made a pained face. Her jaw tightened as she searched for any other option. Unfortunately, or possibly fortunately, she found none, so she slowly nodded.
Without a word, she disappeared behind the oak tree, now grateful for its wide trunk. She began rearranging her clothes. Because her dress cut high on her torso, she could arrange its layers so that only her midsection was bare.
She reappeared holding her dress in awkward bunches and stood in front of Reis. His eyes narrowed as he took in the dark, angry skin that covered most of her side. For a moment, he just stood there. His jaw worked and his eyes fixed on her with a foreign intensity.
Her ribs looked horrible. Dark blue bled to black. Angry yellowed streaks marred by purple spots covered most of her left side.
He cursed under his breath.
"Hold still."
Mirielle nodded.
He walked closer to Mirielle, carefully stabilizing her with his left hand. Then his other hand settled against the bruise.
Pain exploded through her side. A cry escaped before she could stop it. She folded instinctively toward the injury.
Reis immediately tightened his grip on her waist to keep her from collapsing.
"Sorry."
The word came far too quickly and much too strained for Reis's liking. Then she clenched her teeth together and forced herself to remain still.
Reis's touch became impossibly gentle. His fingers traced along the damaged rib as he searched for the fracture beneath the marred skin. His expression grew darker with every passing second.
Mirielle stared stubbornly at the tree, looking anywhere but him. The examination felt strangely intimate.