19. Chapter 19 #2
"You need to rest, Allyra. You almost—" Malik's voice caught, forcing him to clear his throat. "You almost died. I saw the way you looked when they brought us into the camp. You need time to recover. There is no reason to rush to Rida while you are injured. You need to be strong when we arrive."
I knew he was right, yet the desperation in me to fix it all now continued to gnaw at me.
"I just—It's tortured me for so long, Malik.
And now, for the first time, I have an answer to why the rot has been spreading the way it has, and I can finally do something about it.
" Or at least, I hoped. The revelers I had seen in my dream had been powerful, sending more rot into the earth at a speed I knew my powers could not keep up with, not without killing me in the process.
"I know," Malik said. "You have always wanted to be the one to save the world, to fix things when they are broken," he said with a knowing smile on his face. "But you can't save the world in your state."
"We'll only stay here for a few days," I bargained.
Malik smiled softly. "A few days," he agreed. "Or whenever you are able to finally move around on your own."
I acquiesced, as I knew he was right.
"There is food, if you're hungry," he continued.
My stomach groaned at his words. We hadn't eaten much before the avalanche hit and my body was desperate for some kind of sustenance, but I could not shake the feeling of grime all over my body.
"I should wash first," I said, studying my hands that were still caked in dirt and blood. Malik's eyes flicked down to follow mine, taking note of my state.
"Do you want me to clean you up?"
Before I even realized it, I was nodding, my heart racing. Even after traveling through the forest with him, something about being here in Malik's tent felt more intimate. Here, we weren't just trying to survive; here, he didn't have to be the one at my side. But he was.
Malik stood, grabbing a rag and pail of water warming by the fire before coming to my bedside.
He sat close to me, the warmth of the tent increasing tenfold at his nearness.
He dipped the rag into the pail of water before taking my right hand in his, running the cloth over my palm, cleaning the small scrapes and dirt that were left behind from our travels. His touch was gentle, even with his hand dwarfing mine, his rough calluses careful against my damaged hand.
I observed the rings he wore on his fingers as his hand skimmed mine—how the gold complemented his skin, the gems glinting in the firelight, how the jewelry only added to his masculinity, emphasizing the power his hands held.
He continued up my arm, his hand wrapping around the expanse of my forearm in one easy grip, holding me still as he worked the cloth over my skin.
I followed the trail of his hand until it made its way to my shoulder, cresting over my collarbone and neck, until finally, he reached my face, grazing the cloth over my cheek before he dipped the cloth back into the water.
I closed my eyes as he was turned away from me, taking a breath to steady my pounding heart. It had been a long time since I was touched in a such a way, Malik's gentleness and careful handling of me affecting me in ways I had not experienced in years.
Therian was a physical man, but not in the way Malik was. While Therian was all take, Malik was languid in his touch, his movements slow like he had all the time in the world, like there was nothing else he had to focus on in that moment other than me. It was apparent that was still true, even now.
I opened my eyes again when Malik brought his attention back to my face, pulling me out of my reverie as he worked the cloth up my cheeks and over my eyebrows. Our eyes locked on one another as he traced under my eyes, nothing but the sound of the fire crackling between us.
Malik's eyes danced over my face before they dropped back to the cloth in his hand. I watched as he swallowed, the air between us becoming thick.
"What is it?" I whispered.
Malik shook his head, a slight warmth painting his face.
"Tell me, Malik," I said, moving my hand to his cheek and bringing his eyes back to mine.
His eyes glazed over for just a moment as he took in my face and the hair that hung around it.
It wasn't often I wore my hair down, as my work often had me outside in the elements, my hair a victim to the wind, but I had always seen how it affected Malik when it was down.
Before he left, he often spent nights combing through it, running his hand through the strands as we fell asleep in one another's arms.
"You've become so beautiful," he said, studying me. "When I came back, I did not know what to expect. You were always beautiful, even when we were children, but now . . ." Malik shook his head.
My chest threatened to crack open at his words, at what the rest of his sentence held.
"Now what?" I asked.
"You've become a woman I don't feel worthy of."
My heart clenched at his words, because there was nothing more false.
There was no doubt that we had both changed since he left—him becoming a powerful leader, with leagues of men following him, and me, a girl fearful of the fate set before her, yet determined to meet it head-on.
If anything, it had seemed fate moved us away from one another for a time, only to align us in ways we never thought possible.
Even with his confession, I could not find the strength to tell him the thoughts I had while tumbling down the mountain, how, in what I thought were my final moments, I thought only of how much I regretted not setting sail after him all of those years ago, how much I wished I had scoured all of Yllsora until I found him.
No, I thought, I couldn't tell him those things, not yet, when we were finally getting back to the familiarity I had come to depend on before he left.
I finally felt the cold exterior I had built up over the years melting, felt the friendship we once had rebuilding.
And I needed that more than anything if we were to continue on to Rida.
Even still, I said, "You're the only one who could ever be worthy of me, Malik."
He leaned his forehead against mine, our breath mixing as one as Malik's hand wove through my hair.
We sat there for a moment, breathing one another in, letting our bodies relax for the first time in years in one another's presence.
It would be so easy, I thought, to just stay here and forget everything else that was happening outside of this tent, to not continue forward. But I knew that couldn't be done.
Malik massaged his hand into my scalp, leaving me dizzy as a wave of heat made its way through my body. I pulled away, tugging at the oversized blouse I had been put in, and reaching for the cup of water next to the cot, downing it all in one go.
Malik rose and rustled through the chest at the end of the bed.
"We will find some women's clothes for you, but in the meantime, this will have to do," Malik said, handing me a stack of clothes.
The garments were obviously his, huge and oversized on me, but I welcomed the reprieve from my restrictive clothes I had spent the last couple of weeks in.
Malik turned his back to me as I changed, studying the fabric walls of the tent with great interest.
I made quick work of disposing of the clothes I had been dressed in, buttoning up Malik's large shirt over me, the bottom hem coming to my mid-thigh, and laid back down on the cot, refreshed yet exhausted. I had only been conscious for an hour, but the pull of sleep tugged at me.
Malik turned, catching the exhaustion as it rolled over me, bringing the blanket up to my chest and tucking me in as I settled into the sheets.
"Rest."
He then leaned over as I got comfortable under the blankets, pressing his lips to my forehead, stiffening almost immediately, only for a barely noticeable second, before he stood up and went to the other side of the tent.
I watched as he settled himself behind the desk, looking over the various maps and reports stacked in front of him as if nothing had happened.
He looked so much like a man who was destined to lead while sitting there.
As he worked, I imagined what my life would be like now if he had never left.
How we would have governed Sorrel, turning it into the place we had both always imagined it to be.
How, maybe, I wouldn't have put up such a high wall; maybe I would have moved through life much differently.
Maybe we wouldn't be here, halfway across Wellea, deep in the unknown and drenched in uncertainty.
Even so, I was grateful, for as I sat in that unfamiliar place, surrounded by men unfamiliar to me, I had never felt so safe.
I rested, warm and safe and protected.