Chapter 7 #2
“Remove your cloak and shirt.” He just stood there, not hearing her or understanding her, and didn’t move or give a retort, so she made a grab for his cloak, but he backed away from her.
He had something in his arms. It was a basket made of reeds, and it was full of thick mushroom stalks and caps that he’d apparently sliced up with his dagger.
Where did he get that basket ? The answer came immediately after asking herself that because there were reeds on either side of the stream that flowed beside them.
Of all his talents, basketweaving was not one she’d taken him for.
For some reason, this brought a light feeling to her chest—imagining him plucking the reeds and weaving them into a basket to collect mushrooms from the forest made him seem like a doting old matron instead of … a killer.
He noticed her looking at the basket of mushrooms. “I was … going to wash them in the water, and then …” His eyes found hers, and she could have sworn there was a blush on his cheeks. Was this the same suave, cocksure elf from last night? What happened to him?
“You took a fall yesterday. I need to see it. I could … help.”
He placed the basket on the grass and then removed his cloak.
It smelled like him, a mixture of leather and spice.
He was before her in naught but his black undershirt.
It was simple and linen, similar to the one she wore, but while hers fit her loosely, his broad shoulders and chest clung to his shirt.
When he lifted the shirt over his head, she nearly gasped.
His body was … perfectly honed through discipline and training. He was muscular, but the muscles were practical—lithe, lean, and fast, yet his chest and shoulders were broad and strong. He was the perfect assassin. Beautiful death incarnate.
She noticed the bruises now, covering his right shoulder, and placed her hand over them.
He flinched at first, but when the warmth from her hand flowed to his shoulder, he relaxed.
Normally, healing magic wore her out, but the pool must have been charged with magic because it restored her entirely, mind, body, and spirit.
She checked his bruises when she removed her hand.
Her healing had worked; the purple-black color was gone.
He must have been in pain, and she hadn’t noticed it.
Now that she thought about it, he’d used his left hand to attack the nixie instead of his right.
He was a dual wielder, but his right hand was for his most powerful attacks, while the left was a secondary, follow-up attack.
Now that he was healed, he’d be more useful in battle, being able to use his right arm again.
She looked up after healing him, trying to find something in his eyes, not knowing what that was. Did she want thanks? Validation for being the better elf? Or did she think doing this would make him, and her, forget the way she embarrassed herself by letting him see her naked?
Despite her attempt to find another side to him that was not just a coldhearted killer, she was still sour with him and wanted him to know it.
But the way he looked at her cooled this anger.
There was a softness in his eyes that made her heart ache.
Her walls lowered, and she felt guilty for some reason.
His hand reached out to touch her face. This snapped her back to reality. “Don’t touch me!”
Affection from him felt like a betrayal to Lindana, to herself. She backed away abruptly. Whatever she’d reconciled before was gone now.
He seemed taken aback by the suddenness of the change in her temperament. Her breath hitched, and her heartbeat increased. Needing to take a step back and cool off, she picked up the basket and headed toward the water. “I’ll go wash these.”
As she was washing the mushrooms in the water, there was a crackle behind her. She turned around to see him tending to a small fire.
She brought the mushrooms over to the fire after she finished washing them. He had readied two long, sharpened sticks and handed her one. “Poke it through the center,” he told her, “Like this.” He stabbed his stick through the bottom of the mushroom and hovered it over the fire.
“I know how to roast mushrooms. I grew up in a forest.” She skewered her mushroom on the stick .
“Oh, you’re part Wood Elf, I see.”
There he was, back to his normal self. She was starting to understand his personality after having to spend an entire day with him. “Funny,” she droned sarcastically, but was in no mood for jokes now.
“What other magics do you know?” Every elf knew the simple spells to call forth fire for cooking and lighting, bring water from a reservoir, and summon air for basic living needs.
But knowing what magics he had in his arsenal would help them in a fight to come and …
help her in knowing what she was up against if she had to turn on him.
He hummed. “Of course, I know fire magic. It’s simple, even children know how to call it. Don’t you know it?”
Aelrie nodded. She knew the spell, but her skill wasn’t good enough to use in combat. Some soldiers and most mages could master the elemental spells for combat, such as logi —fire bolt, deren —lightning bolt, and ísi —ice shard.
But she only had a rudimentary knowledge of the fire spell to light campfires, not enough to use the combat spell. Not that she had to. She could do well enough with sword and bow. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.
“And any other magics you know?” She tried to act as casually as possible while asking this, but she was anxious to learn his full arsenal. Dark Elf dark magic was as powerful as it was wicked.
There was a gleam in his eye as he glanced at her, his lips turning up in a shrewd smile. Was she too insistent? Did he suspect her ?
“I’ll tell you all you want to know.” He flipped his stick around so the other side of his mushroom could cook. “If you do one thing for me.”
She pretended not to care about an answer and gave him a teasing look. “As long as it’s not killing anyone. Knowing you.”
“Kiss me.” His voice was both sugar and poison.
“Wha…what?”
“Little flower wished for something, yet she did not prepare anything for the offering table herself? So, I made an offer.”
“That’s not fair!”
“All of one’s secrets for a kiss.” He chuckled darkly. “I’d say that is a mighty fine bargain.”
He wasn’t really insinuating she go through with this, was he?
“Your mushroom’s burning.”
“Huh?”
“Your mushroom.” He pointed to the stick she still held in her hand. She smelled it before she saw it.
“Aw.” She turned the mushroom over on each side. It was burned beyond recognition. There was no way she could eat it.
“Here, have mine.” He handed her his perfectly browned mushroom on a stick.
“Thanks,” she answered and reluctantly took his offering.
“That’s for healing me.”
Wait .
She could’ve used that as a bargaining chip. “Yes. That’s right. I did heal you,” she said, casually again, or at least pretending to be. “You owe me some of your secrets at least.” She blew on the mushroom first before eating it. He paid close attention to her pursed lips.
“My offer has changed.” He pricked another mushroom with his stick and roasted it over the fire. “One kiss, or nothing at all.”
She shot him a disapproving glare. Why was he being so difficult? “Why do you want to kiss me anyway?”
“I want to taste you.” His voice sent shivers up her spine.
Her heart rate sped up. She could feel him eating her up already with his gaze. It reminded her of the wolfish look he gave her back at the pool of water. “Well,” she responded with a scowl, “you’ll just have to settle for mushroom for now.”
He laughed and flipped his stick. “I’ll wait.” He added a moment later in a lower voice, “For now.”