Chapter 3 #2
“It is not much,” she said as she followed him in, her voice soft and reassuring. “But it will serve you well. The bed is kept ready, and there is always water and clean cloths if you have need—”
“I have no need of a tour.”
The sharpness in Kaelan’s voice cut across her words and caused Bria to pause. It was not simply what he said, but how he said it. The edge had not been there before.
She turned slowly to face him.
He had moved further into the cottage, though not far, as if even that small distance had cost him more than he wished to show.
His shoulders were drawn tight beneath the shirt she had helped him into, the fabric shifting with each measured breath he took.
There was a stillness to him now, but it was not ease.
It was restraint.
“The wound troubles you more than you will admit,” she said, taking a careful step toward him.
“I need rest.”
The words came low, controlled, but beneath them lay something strained.
“Let me ease it before you lie down,” Bria said, her voice soft and calm as she reached toward him. “It will help settle—”
“NAY!”
The force of it stilled her hand before it reached him.
Silence settled between them tight and heavy.
Kaelan drew a slow breath, as if mastering something unseen.
Then, more measured, though no less firm, he ordered, “Leave.”
Bria studied him, concern rising stronger now than any offense.
“You would send away the very thing that would bring you relief?” she asked, searching his face.
“I would be left alone.”
His gaze met hers then and, for the first time, something in it made her hesitate.
It was not anger nor simple impatience. It was something held too tightly beneath the surface, something that flickered there for only a moment before it was forced back.
But she had seen it, and it unsettled her.
“You will only make it worse if you fight it,” she said gently, though she could not say what it was she spoke of.
A shadow crossed his features, quick and sharp.
“I will manage,” he said.
The words were steady, but the effort behind them was not.
Bria remained where she was a moment longer, uncertain now, though not of her skill, but of him. There was something more at work here. Something she did not understand. Something she could not reach.
She inclined her head slightly. “Very well.”
Turning, she made her way to the door, her hand resting briefly against the wood before she opened it.
“If you need me—”
“I will not,” he snapped, cutting her off.
The answer came too quickly, too sharply, as if given before the thought could be reconsidered.
Bria stepped outside without replying, pulling the door closed behind her.
Kaelan sat on the bed and closed his eyes against the pain.
He expected it, but not so soon, though he hadn’t expected Bria.
She was more than he could have imagined.
Soft blue eyes. Warm brown hair that fell well past her shoulders.
A lovely face that one would never grow tired of looking at.
But more importantly… her touch. It said everything and more and he knew she felt it too.
He shook his head. Now was not the time. He needed to do what must be done. He couldn’t let anything interfere with it, but he also could not ignore what had passed between Bria and him.
Another pain struck and he winced. This was not the time to think about such matters. He had a mission to accomplish and that came first, for now.
Kaelan stood and went to the door. He had no time to waste.
The cool air brushed softly against her skin as Bria made her way toward her own cottage, her thoughts anything but quiet.
Inside, the familiar space welcomed her.
The small cottage held the same quiet order she had always found comfort in.
Soft light from the narrow window brushed across the table near the hearth, where bits of her work lay waiting.
Twigs bound with care, sprigs of dried herbs set aside for weaving, and small bundles of wildflowers hung upside down from a line to preserve them.
Half-finished wreaths rested nearby, their shapes already formed, awaiting the final touches she would give them.
Along the shelf beneath the window, smooth stones and pale shells—gathered from the shoreline beyond the village—sat in neat rows, each chosen for its shape or color.
Some had already found their place in delicate necklaces, their cords braided and waiting to be tied.
Others remained loose, as if she had yet to decide what they would become.
A length of twine lay coiled beside them, along with beads carved from wood and bone, small tokens she often worked into her pieces. Nothing was placed without thought. Nothing without purpose.
It was a space made by careful hands, by quiet patience, by her… her home.
Bria moved to set water to warm, her hands working with practiced ease, though her thoughts remained fixed elsewhere.
On Kaelan.
The way he had spoken. The questions he had asked without hesitation, without fear. The certainty that lingered in him, quiet, unshaken, and the touch.
Her hand stilled over the herbs.
That feeling. She had never known anything like it. Not once, in all the years she had laid her hands upon the injured, the sick, the weary. Never had her touch been met with something in return. Never had it stirred anything within her.
She drew a slow breath, steadying herself as she reached again for the herbs, measuring them out with care.
“It is nothing,” she murmured softly, though the words felt uncertain even as she spoke them. “Something new… nothing more.”
But the thought did not settle. It lingered. Much like the memory of his hand in hers. The warmth of it. The quiet tug she had not understood, nor the emptiness that took hold when they no longer touched.
Bria didn’t understand any of it and something told her that she might not be given the choice.
A rap at her door, followed by a shout, “Bria, you’re needed,” had her grabbing her cloak and hurrying out the door.