Chapter 12 #2
I didn’t dignify him with an answer. Instead, I concentrated on how mad I was with the frustrating man behind me.
I was definitely not dwelling on how I had secretly enjoyed the way his bite felt and that I didn’t mind it too much.
Because I wasn’t. And should he ever repeat something like that, I’d raise the fiery pits of damnation upon this insufferable man. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.
A routine formed during the next few uneventful days.
We pushed the horses as far as we could without exhausting and endangering them and, just as planned, stayed off the main roads.
At night, we rested, and Dion insisted on putting his bedroll next to mine every time.
When I confronted him about it, he shrugged and told me he was just taking his duties seriously.
After that talk, I’d begun to threaten him every night before going to bed that if he got too close while I was sleeping, I wouldn’t hesitate to castrate him.
Usually, he would just grin at me, which coaxed his dimples out—followed by my blood flushing to my cheeks.
He and his stupid dimples should be cursed, and so should be my weakness for them.
My health improved from day to day, and thanks to a balm Ireas had given me, the blue and black marks on my neck were barely visible anymore.
The same could be said about Jelric’s bite mark on my cheek, and to my biggest relief, it appeared like this violation wouldn’t leave a scar.
Even my back was healing fine, my muscles got used to me being on horseback for long hours every day, and the better I felt, the more it itched in my fingers to step up and take on some responsibilities within the group. I hated being idle.
The men usually took turns keeping watch, and when I voiced my desire to take over a shift as well, I was met with much protest and, in Dion’s case—of course—growling.
It was Fig who explained the decision to leave me out of the rotation.
“It makes no sense to change our shift routine, at least not at the moment. You’re no fighter, which is a necessary prerequisite for a protective duty like night watch.
If something or someone attacks, you can’t even defend yourself.
No, Nayana, we can find other tasks for you to fulfill, and there are plenty of ways to contribute to the group.
Besides, Dion has already told me that he plans to train you in self-defense soon.
You’ll be surprised how taxing it’ll be for you. So for now, at night, you’ll sleep.”
I hated the logic behind his words. Of course, taking watch meant more than just staying awake for a few hours while everyone else was sleeping—even I knew that.
If I was attacked at night while on watch duty, there was a good chance I’d be taken or dead before I could even think of waking the men.
So, I stopped fighting for night shift duty and concentrated on finding other opportunities to be useful.
Luckily, Fig kept his word, and I was given several other tasks. I often prepared meals, mended clothes, and helped with the horses.
One afternoon, when we’d taken a break to let the horses rest, Antas had called me over to show me how to repair half-broken arrows that were still salvageable.
Much to our mutual surprise, I turned out to be quite adept at restoring them, and soon Antas had stopped supervising me when I prepared the scraping tools and assorted fletchings.
Some of my chores I could even do while riding, considering I was simply a passenger on horseback. I still hadn’t been taught how to ride on my own, so I sat in front of Dion day after day. By now, I’d gotten used to it, and I was utilizing the idle time as best as I could.
At one point, I voiced my concern for our horse, but Dion just eyeballed me with his head canted, his usual response to what he considered my foolish questions. It was safe to say he spent half of his days with his head tipped to the side.
“My horse is bred for endurance. This breed can easily carry a man twice my weight without breaking a sweat. The tiny thing you are doesn’t make a difference.
I bet, if he could talk, he’d laugh, then tell you that he didn’t even realize that he was carrying one more person.
” The huff that followed was accompanied by a smirk, and I quickly dropped the topic.
Instead, I went back to fixing a torn sleeve on one of Ireas’ tunics.
The fabric was a pleasant shade of azure that reminded me of a cloudless sunny sky, and the soft material spoke of the many times the healer must have worn this garment.
As I sewed, I hummed a traditional lullaby of unknown origin that my grandmother had sometimes sung to me ages ago.
“You have a pleasant singing voice,” Dion said, speaking out of the blue and pulling me out of my reverie. I turned to him, searching for a sarcastic smirk or a mean twinkle in his eye, but there was none. Curiosity sparkled in his eyes, and he examined me with an intensity in his expression.
“Huh, thanks. Do you like music?”
“Very much so. I used to play a plethora of different instruments when I was young, and there was nothing I enjoyed more than losing myself in harmonies.”
“Why did you stop then?”
“I had to grow up.”
“Because of your family?”
“Yes.” Dion smiled, but the gesture was so full of melancholy that it tied my airways together and stole my breath.
This side of Dion was unexpected. Maybe it wasn’t only that he showed me a softer side of himself or that he shared a piece of his past of his own volition, but also how real he seemed for a moment.
But it was over before I could blink, and his usual aloof mask slipped back into place.
I returned to my needlework, no longer humming, for I was far too self-conscious when I considered that the man riding behind me might have been a musical prodigy, and I—well, I liked to sing sometimes.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your song. It’s great to see that you’re adjusting to the circumstances and feel more at ease with us.”
I paused and thought about what he’d said and came to the conclusion he was indeed right.
Over the course of the past few days, I had relaxed more and more.
It helped that I could be useful, and I’d begun to trust my companions not to have other motives than those they’d presented to me.
“I guess I could’ve been cursed with worse company. ”
His chest vibrated as it usually did when he chuckled, and both of us fell silent, which gave me time to contemplate. Dion had never talked about his personal life before, and now that I’d tasted blood, I was even more determined to find out more.
I couldn’t help myself; once something had sparked my curiosity, my research always bordered on a compulsion to pry deeper—and there was no difference when it came to the man I was riding with and whatever he was hiding.
The others rarely talked about themselves as well, but they weren’t nearly as tight-lipped as Dion—his secrecy annoyed me to no end.