10 #2
Soon enough, he was directing her which way to go to arrive at an inn where he could get a horse.
They dismounted, and he looked a bit paler than usual, she thought. He was smiling very widely, however. “Perhaps you might rest your horse a while,” he said to her. “And you must be hungry. It’s past luncheon.”
They had been riding for some time. She noted that the sun was heavy, past noon, and she wondered if that made sense. When had they left the city? How long had they been traveling? What had the side trip to Matlinrir cost them?
“I could buy you something to eat, warrioress,” he said, that smile of his practically eating up his face.
“You think they will allow me into the tavern?”
“They will if I throw enough gold to them,” he said, still smiling.
“You’re going to tell them I’m your whore, I suppose.” Her nostrils flared.
He blushed, looking down at his shoes. “If it comes to that, perhaps.”
She put a finger in his face. “No pulling me into your lap or the like to prove that we are involved, do you understand? I’ve had quite enough contact with you for one day.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate you feel that way,” he said, and he was laughing.
She folded her arms over her chest. She should take her horse and go. Why was she keeping company with this man?
Drag her to Nilhaem, she could have simply let him die that morning. She did not have to save his wretched life.
Of course, she had to admit that she would appreciate his money. She didn’t have any.
He turned and she caught sight of a splash of red on the inside of his jacket sleeve. He was wearing the remnants of his kingsguard uniform. It was white. The red was bright.
She took his arm, turning it to see that bloom at his elbow. “What is this, my lord?”
Iahir looked down at it, blinking. “I think that’s blood.” He grimaced, peeling his jacket aside.
She was alarmed. His inner shirt was full of blood, soaked all the way down the side of him. She lurched at him, taking his lapel and jerking his jacket away from his shoulder. “How have you not noticed this?”
“Been distracting myself,” he said softly, furrowing his brow as he looked down at his bloody shirt.
“Your shoulder,” she said. “Your shoulder was wounded, but I did not think it was bad—”
“It’s not,” he protested. “It’s nothing. I’m sure it stopped bleeding a long time ago, and it is even now sealing itself up.”
She glared at him. Businesslike, she started to undo the buttons of his shirt.
He laughed. “Well, then, warrioress, if you wish to undress me—”
But he cut off when she bared his shoulder, which was definitely still bleeding.
“You need stitched up,” she said. “Luckily, there was a saddle bag that was packed with these sorts of essentials, and I brought it. But we need water, a place to sit down… you’ll have to get us a room, my lord.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Well, then. A room. You and me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, Haem smite you, you wretched man.”
NOW THAT HE’D seen the blood, Iahir felt weaker. He supposed he’d known that would happen and that was why he’d refused to look.
He staggered at the front desk as he spoke to the innkeeper, saying they needed a room and they needed food brought up.
The innkeeper eyed Gathren, looking alarmed.
“I’m his whore,” said Gathren in a tight voice.
Iahir would have laughed, but he thought the innkeeper might take it badly.
“We’ve heard word of what happened in the capital today,” said the innkeeper.
“Why do you think we fled?” said Iahir, giving the man a look. He jerked his head in Gathren’s direction. “She’s on the run from the orcs as much as anyone. They think she’s betrayed her own kind.”
The innkeeper looked from Iahir to Gathren and back again. “You swear she’s not the one to bloody you, then?”
By the rosy tresses of the dawn, could the innkeeper see the blood? He thought he’d covered it with his jacket again, covered it well. “I swear,” he said, but he grunted it, and then he tipped over into her, moaning into her shoulder.
She righted him, worry written all over her features. “Sir, he needs to get off his feet! Give us a room, please.”
The innkeeper hesitated. “If I find you have been doing sneaky, untoward, tricksy orc things, I will have you strung up. I don’t care if you’re a woman. You understand me?”
“Perfectly well,” said Gathren, glaring at the man, clearly disgusted.
“You will not string her up,” said Iahir, managing to stand on his own feet without wavering. “I will not have that.”
She was reaching inside his jacket to find his coin purse. “We have to pay the man, my lord.”
“Always do,” he said, smiling up at her. “Everything has a price.”
And then, the room swirled out into nothingness and he dropped straight down. He had fainted.
He came back to himself only moments later, being hauled to his feet by Gathren, who was making all sort of concerned noises at the innkeeper.
“I’m fine,” he told her.
She had him brace himself against her shoulder and they made their way to follow the innkeeper to the room where they were staying. There was only one bed, he noted delightedly, and he fell backwards onto it.
He must have fainted again.
When he was aware again, it was because of the pain of something stabbing into his shoulder. He gasped.
His shirt and jacket and waistcoat had all been removed and he was lying on a towel on the bed.
His skin was wet, and there was a bloody rag lying there, indicating she’d washed away all the blood.
Now, she was perched on a stool, glaring at his wound, her pink tongue trapped between her teeth.
She was concentrating as she stitched him up.
“You dressed many wounds, warrioress?” His voice was a bit too breathless.
“You’re awake,” she said. “And truthfully, no more than most soldiers. I had a bit of resistance to being roped into being a nursemaid. I don’t have as much experience as I could.”
He flexed his shoulders.
“Hold still,” she snapped.
He let out a breath. “How long does this take?”
“Not long. It’s deep but there’s only a small cut. Just the width of a sword blade.”
He nodded. “Good, all right, good.” He looked at her and then down at his pale bare belly and he couldn’t help but remember his fantasy of them in a room together. How reality differed. “I’m sorry I fainted,” he said. “Remarkably womanish of me.”
She scoffed. “You had lost a lot of blood. It’s not a character flaw, my lord.”
He laughed softly, then winced as the needle went into his skin. That stung.
“You do have character flaws, of course,” she said, pulling the thread tight. “Shall I enumerate them for you?”
“That’s all right,” he said, shutting his eyes. “I’m quite grateful for this, you know. If you weren’t here, I would probably be bleeding out on a bed in this inn.”
“Oh, probably,” she said.
He laughed softly. Another bite of the needle. He sucked in a whistling breath.
“Almost done, my lord,” she assured him.
He only breathed.
And then she was tying off the string and tucking away the needle and wrapping a clean cloth around his shoulder. He noticed that her glances kept straying to his bare skin. She would look at his chest, at his stomach, at his arms, and then her gaze would skitter away, and she would seem flustered.
“Have you ever been this close to a half-naked elf man, warrioress?” he said.
“Stop it,” she said. “You are injured.”
“My shoulder is injured,” he said. “Other parts of me are quite functional, I assure you.”