Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Keeran didn’t waste any time getting a fire going when he set up camp that evening.
Aelia had gone out to hunt shortly after they passed Aquila, offering to catch them something if he cooked again.
It was an offer he’d leapt at, not only because he wanted to avoid fighting to keep his food down, but because it meant he could whip her up a medicinal tea.
Or at least that’s what he was going to tell her it was.
He chucked some wood in a pile, flung some flames at it with little more than a flick of his eye, and went to fetch some water from the lake. He set it over the fire to boil, before chucking in an assorted mix of useless leaves to steep.
Keeran raised his head from where he crouched in front of the pot, scanning the grasslands to make sure he was alone, before taking a knife from his hip. It was one of several he carried, most of the others tucked out of sight but within easy reach.
It was fiercely sharp, slicing through the skin of his palm like butter.
The pain hardly registered, his heart thumping wildly at the unlawfulness of what he was doing, but it didn’t stop him from making a fist and squeezing several drops of blood into the tea.
They dispersed amongst the leaves, the green pigment more than enough to obscure the pink.
Dashing back to the lake, he washed the blood from his hand, the cut already sealed in an angry red line. It would soon be just another scar.
Returning to the camp, he put his hands on his hips and stared down at the tea. He could still throw it away. His lips pressed tight, his brows knitting together.
No, he couldn’t. Aelia was still recovering from the beating the Astraea had given her. Last night had hardly helped and he needed her fighting fit.
There was no way he could stay with her, not with the pair bond alive and thrumming between them, especially now that he suspected she felt it too.
Sure, she had no idea what she was feeling, but that was irrelevant.
Keeran would get her to Beserkir, reunite her with Fenrir, then leave them to return to Callodosis.
But he’d be damned if he was going to let her walk away defenceless.
He glared down his nose at the tea, his jaw set resolutely. What he was doing may have been sacrilegious amongst his kind. The illegality of sharing the magic in their blood had been drilled into him since he was a child, but there were no Dragons left in Demuto to stop him.
So, he turned his back on the tea and got to work setting up camp.
Aelia returned with two waterfowl bouncing on her saddle. They plucked them together, but that was as much help as he accepted from her, telling her to go wash whilst he cooked.
His body was acutely aware of her in the water behind him, hidden by the rushes, but Keeran didn’t let his mind dwell on it.
Instead, he focused on skewering the marinated waterfowl over the flames and leaving it to cook over the mixed vegetables he was grilling on a huge flat stone he’d positioned in the fire.
He used the herbs and spices in his pack liberally, packing the meal with as much flavour as he possibly could.
Yes, he might resent that he was magically predisposed to want to make her happy, but he didn’t see the harm in putting a little extra effort into dinner.
By the time they’d both washed in the lake, it was ready.
He piled her plate high and handed it to her, along with the tea.
“It has chamomile in it,” he explained when she looked at it questioningly. “It will help with the swelling.”
“Thanks,” she said, looking surprised. She took the tea and set it down, her attention immediately focusing on the food in front of her.
She didn’t disappoint. She closed her eyes after the first bite, chewing slowly, and he watched her surreptitiously from over his own untouched plate. He didn’t think he’d seen anyone enjoy food as much as she did.
It meant she forgot about the tea until she’d scraped her plate clean, running her finger over it and licking the juices off in a way that would plague him, despite how quickly he’d averted his eyes.
When she finally remembered the cup next to her, she took a hesitant sip, grimacing at the bitter taste, before her expression froze. She blinked several times in quick succession before taking another gulp.
Relief washed over her face as the healing properties of his blood took effect, making him realise the constant pain she must have been in.
He’d obviously never seen how blood magic worked before, and he watched with an apprehensive fascination as she continued to shift experimentally where she sat, testing her aching joints.
So, when her eyes snapped to his, she caught him looking straight at her.
“That’s not chamomile,” she said, accusatorially.
“There’s chamomile in it,” Keeran shrugged more nonchalantly than he felt before popping a generous spoonful into his mouth.
Aelia’s eyes narrowed to slits, the green in them glowing in the firelight. “What else?”
Keeran didn’t reply, his stare hard and unyielding as he chewed with deliberate slowness.
“Is it the same thing that’s in the poultice?” Aelia pushed, undeterred by his silence.
Keeran took his time swallowing, enjoying the flush of impatience creeping up her neck.
“It’s chamomile, Aelia.” He let a hint of darkness steal into his eyes, noting how she didn’t flinch this time. If anything, the flush seemed to deepen. Curious. “Just drink it.”
Aelia stared at the tea for a few long seconds, the scepticism on her face fading to grim acceptance, then she necked the rest of it.
She shuddered and closed her eyes, dropping the cup. Keeran’s stomach felt like it plummeted ten inches, and it took every ounce of self-control not to call out to her.
A heartbeat later, her eyes flickered open, and Keeran recoiled.
The ring of magic in her eyes glowed silver, bright and piercing in the darkness, but he blinked and it was gone.
He forced his heart rate to slow, refusing to let her see how much of a nervous wreck he was as they both partook in a crime the Dragons used to kill over.
He’d never heard of their magic showing as anything but black, but who knew how their blood affected artemians; perhaps the silver light was normal as his magic worked through her.
Aelia lifted her top and twisted towards the fire, exposing her unblemished ribs. There wasn’t a bruise in sight—just toned, golden skin—sending Keeran’s stomach lurching for completely different reasons.
“What the fuck?” Aelia whispered, tearing her top up to gape at the rest of her waist, every bruise, cut and scrape having disappeared to leave the fine silver lines of scars. It wasn’t long before her attention returned to him. “How?”
“I can’t answer that.” His voice brooked no argument.
“Why give it to me then?” She was deathly quiet, a trace of fear mingling with the shock on her face.
“Because I’m going to show you how to defend yourself,” he stated.
Shock won out over fear, her mouth hanging open for a second before she collected her thoughts.
“You’d do that?”
Keeran set his plate down and brushed his hands together. “It’s as much for my sake as for yours. You’ve been a pain in the butt since we left Callodosis, kicking your arse is going to be seriously cathartic.”
He ignored her scowl and jumped to his feet, crossing to offer his hand down to her.
Aelia took it tentatively, and he hauled her to her feet, looking for any signs of discomfort and seeing none.
Good, that meant he didn’t have to go easy on her.
They didn’t have much time, and there was so much to show her.
“All I have is this dagger.” Aelia pivoted her hip to show the weapon she always carried with her.
“You need to learn the basics of unarmed combat before you start throwing weapons into the equation.” He almost smiled at the unmistakable look of disappointment that flashed across her face.
He continued, regardless. “To fight is to walk the tightrope between offence and defence. Misjudge that balance and expect to fall.”
Aelia twisted to look at the floor around them, taking in the rocks and tree roots that jutted from between their numerous bags, saddles and blankets. “Shouldn’t we find somewhere a bit clearer?”
“Attackers aren’t going to wait to find level ground. You need to concentrate on where your feet are at all times, not just because of obstacles, but also in relation to me.”
Keeran shoved her shoulder just hard enough to send her off balance. She looked up at him, her green eyes wide with surprise, but said nothing.
“Stand like this.” He demonstrated, planting his feet in a wide stance, and she copied. He shoved her shoulder again, and this time she stayed put. “Good footwork can make up for a lot.”
He showed her a few blocks and talked her through the concept of putting your bodyweight into your punch. Everything he showed her she picked up well enough, concentration creasing a fine line between her brows as she absorbed his every word.
It had been an awfully long time since he’d learnt the basics, and it had been a much more vicious lesson to learn than the one he was giving her, but Aelia didn’t seem to mind his somewhat garbled explanations.
After a while, they sparred, albeit in the loosest possible sense of the word.
Aelia’s lips pressed into a tight line as she tried to block him, failing most of the time despite him dropping to what felt like slow motion. He kept her moving, kept her thinking, and she began to see the rhythm he was setting, gradually blocking him more and more.
There was a rock hidden in the long grass, and when her foot caught it, she flew, propelled by the backwards step she had been taking.
His hand was on her elbow in a fraction of a second, but she didn’t need him to catch her.
With unnatural speed, she righted herself, twisting out of harm’s way and safely back onto her feet.