The dried
herbs crumbled in the mortar beneath the gentle pressing of his pestle. The whisper of a sound alerted him he had
company. Without pausing in his labor he
closed his eyes and drew in a long deep breath.
His thin lips stretched and curled at the corners into a smile that
parted to expose his razor sharp teeth.
"I
smell dried blood, sweat - horse and mortal - leather, polished steel, the
remains of polishing compound, roses, and…" The pause was caused by his
frown. His eyes looked ahead then
dropped down to the crushed herb.
"I smell a traitorous liniment, no doubt taken from a dead
man. Likely it is his blood I smell and
not your own. It has far too salty a
scent to have come from your slender self.
It was a recent squabble and squabble it must have been. I smell no recently shed blood of your own so
fight it could not have been."
"If
it helps," she said as her body moved through the dark sheer fabric
separating his quarters from the world outside, "I used the liniment on my
horse."
He
breathed through his nostrils. "It
doesn't. The stench still remains. I thought you cared for your horse." He turned then and greeted her with a
bow. "It is always a good sight to
see you, Aislinn." When he
straightened from the bowing, his catlike eyes moved over her form. Already all but her undergarments had been
removed and were likely being seen to by his hand maids. Quickly, he ascertained new wounds and stress
placed on old injuries. Again, he'd have
his work cut out for him. He expected
nothing less from her visits. "However,
before I come near enough to lay a healing hand on your overworked body you
will bathe." And with that he
lifted his hand toward the door to his right.
His brows arched as he tilted his head toward his patient as though
waiting for quarrel.
She gave
none. She never did. Despite the deaths of friend and foe that
haunted her dreams, the bodies laid to rest by her hand, the calluses shielding
her hands and heart, she was very much a woman and as such never turned down
the offer of a bath.
"At
your leisure, my lady," he said with a wink. He watched her disappear then
turned back to his mortar and pestle, returning to his work. The 'lady's leisure' gave him plenty of time
to finish tonight's work.
By the
time she'd finished her bathing, candles had been lit and scattered throughout
the main room as well as the healing chamber.
His long ebony hair had been pulled back from his face, braided and
wrapped in a white band. His darker
robes had been changed to the white silk he wore when healing. It was a stark contrast to his dark skin and
hair, but when he smiled it accentuated the bright white of his teeth.
When
Aislinn entered the chamber he bowed to her then turned his back to allow her
privacy enough to slip out of her own white robe and beneath the silken sheet
of the bed. Once he'd heard her body
still he turned.
"It
is a much more pleasant smell," he commented as he stepped to the side of
the bed. "Not that there isn't
anything amiss with the smell of blood and gore, exertion, all that sort of
thing." He gave a mock shudder and
glanced down to see if his bedside manner got the desired grin. She never disappointed. There it was and her hazel eyes danced in
their brightness. She was among a friend
and as such showed the rare side of her - the woman. He raised his hands up and held them inches
above her body. "I dare not bore
you with the tedious nature of what it is I do.
By now I'm sure you could trade places with me and do just as well. Seriously, Aislinn, do you not worry about
your reputation? As often as you visit
me in secret there must be whispered rumors about a love affair?"
He caught the roll of her eye and frowned at
her. "If not your reputation what
of mine…" he paused as he came to a cracked rib. His lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. His focus turned to the pain in the
injury. He saw to the pain first, then
he saw to the mending of it and did so without so much as laying a finger upon
her flesh. A breath indicated his finish
for the particular injury an he continued both with examination and with
banter. "You might be surprised to
hear this but I am quite the catch.
Should the whispers continue I can see my social life taking a serious
dive."
She
started to speak only to bite her lip as he came across a deeper wound than the
first. He liked to start with the simple
ones and gradually make his way to those that would draw forth tears in even
the bravest of warriors. "Would
that have been surprise in your tone?" he asked as he moved from the
healed spot to another, this one by her shoulder. "You think me a lonely old bachelor, is
it? Picture me comfortable in my solace?
This one is going to hurt," he said and lowered his hand toward the
injured shoulder. He closed his eyes, he
didn't need to see her writhing beneath him.
He could feel the pain as it left her body and came into his, only to be
released into the energies that surrounded him.
The breeze and the light of the candles drawing them unto themselves and
taking the pain into the natural world where it would be better put to
use.
When her
breathing eased he moved on both in conversation and in search of those wounds
base healers would not dare touch. "I'm offended," he declared,
"that you'd even consider me the miserly sort. Were you on your horse when you took this
tumble?" Her collar bone wasn't
broken but the strain placed on it was enough to have caused a break on a frailer body. She wasn't breathing enough to give him
answer. "You must remember to
breath," he reminded her.
"Otherwise all that I do is fight through your shields and you know
I always win when you are without your sword. It is my will against your pain and my will the stronger of the two as pain is - as they say - weakness leaving the body. If you're not breathing you're not letting it leave your body."
She took
his council and breathed in and then out.
He felt her tremble and considered giving her rest before
continuing. "You wouldn't have it
that way though would you, my lady warrior.
You will finish what you've started, show me that you're stronger than
anyone could possibly fathom. After all,
you must be," his hands moved over her face, pausing on either side of her
head. His voice lowered now as he spoke
seriously. "Impossibly strong or
cursed, isn't it?" He knew she
could not move, would not move and could not argue with his logic.
He held
her where she lay without so much as touching his cool hands to her warm
flushed cheeks. He couldn't get inside
her head either. Her shields were up and
strong as ever. "Cursed to watch
everyone who fought with you yield up their lives," he continued in a
voice that soothed the savage sea,
"cursed to wander alone, not daring to love again knowing all too
well the dangers, finding solace in your exile, coming to savor every beating
you take from the foe, secretly hoping that one day you will join those that
have gone before you but at the same time feeling the unexplainable revelation
each and every time your sword strikes home into the villain. You are hardly a riddle, Aislinn." Then as though he spoke of the weather he
continued with, "Roll over. I dare
say there's a pretty good wound waiting my attention beneath your shoulder
blade. You trusted the one that struck
there."
He
released his hold on her and waited for her to settle again on the table,
watched as the wave of red tresses fell over her shoulders off the bed and
toward the floor. "The worst kind
of wound," he commented. "But
also the best kind. The kind that shows
you are still willing to trust, still willing to sacrifice, the strongest kind
of strong. Breath in," he said and
he fell silent to work out the pain and scarring from the wound dealt to her by
one she considered a friend. It took
longer to draw forth, she had to be convinced to release the pain before he
could heal it. "There is no need to
draw so tightly into yourself," he assured her. "You are among the safest of the safe,
after all. By now, you should know we
are involved, lady warrior. I might be the only living person to k now you so well."
And then
he paused, then he withdrew from her and stepped back. He looked down upon her covered form as
though seeing her for the first time this evening. His heart thundered in his chest but his
arrogance could not allow him admittance.
"And now you will sleep," he said waving his hand to silence
the loud light offered by the candles.
As he turned, he waved his hand in the air, "And when you wake, you
will dress and have dinner with me.
After all, we must give those whispers something of a warrant."
