“Of course,” he said, stepping briskly past the half-orc. “You’re injured, of course I’ll help.” He did not wait to see if Zorvut was following him before pushing past the cloth divider into the private area of the tent, where there seemed to be a sleeping area set up with another divider creating a bathroom in the far corner, or as much of a corner as could be made in a round tent. Peering along the walls, he found the loose area that indicated another tent flap, and opened it to step outside, where sure enough, a stone well was just a few feet away.
He had never had to draw water from a well before, but surely it couldn’t be that complicated, he thought. As he was looking over the mechanism, a wooden bucket on a rope attached to some sort of pulley and handle, he could feel Zorvut come up behind him with a chuckle.
“You just toss it down,” he said, reaching over to take the bucket from Taegan’s hands. He scowled, but couldn’t hold the face for long as a good-natured smile still played at his lips. In spite of the chaotic whirlwind of the day, there was still the same comfort of just being in Zorvut’s presence.
With some effort they were able to fill the wooden tub, and with a flick of his wrist Zorvut lit the fire underneath it to start warming the water.
“I would invite you in with me, but…” he said, and gestured to the blood and grime that had accumulated on him. Taegan grimaced, thinking of how painful the hot water would be on his own injury.
“Maybe next time,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’ll help you bathe at least.”
Zorvut was visibly in pain as he lowered himself into the warm water, wincing and groaning as his wounds were washed. His torso was mottled with tender bruising, and in the light Taegan could see one of his eyes was bruised, the sclera stained with red. He looked so vulnerable, sitting there wounded and naked, that Taegan could not quite bring himself to look at his face at first, instead focusing only on the parts of his body he was gently wiping clean with a soft cloth. As tired as he was, Zorvut definitely seemed to be the worse for wear between them.
Despite his obvious discomfort, though, the half-orc was nearly nodding off in the water by the time Taegan had wiped him down, the once-clean bath now murky and reddish. The water had started to become tepid and cool, but the half-orc’s eyes remained closed when Taegan walked away to go get him a towel, and he did not respond when he came up to the side of the wooden tub once more.
“Sorry,” he groaned as Taegan gently shook his shoulder. “I’m awake.”
“Just need to get you out of here, then you can go right to bed,” Taegan murmured, handing him the towel as Zorvut rose to his feet. He helped guide Zorvut to the bed, a massive orc-sized pile of blankets and cushions so there would be more than enough room for the both of them. He crawled into the bed with some difficulty, but the moment his eyelids closed, he was asleep. Taegan draped a blanket over him and looked down at his face for a long moment, a strange mix of pride and worry and happiness and fear welling in his heart all at once.
Much as he was tired, too, a bath sounded far too alluring. There were still a few embers from the fire Zorvut had lit, so with some effort Taegan drained the wooden tub, brought up a few buckets of clean water, and stoked the fire to warm it. His own muscles ached with exertion as he had to painstakingly climb over the edge of the tub that was nearly as tall as he was and hold his arm at an awkward angle to keep his wound out of the water, but the comforting warmth soothed him. He hadn’t been able to do more than wipe himself clean with cold water in the weeks—had it been weeks?—since he’d been captured, so even just the warm water alone felt like a decadent luxury.
He did not bother to clothe himself when he finally managed to pull himself out of the tub and blow out the last few candles, instead burrowing under the blankets next to Zorvut, pressing their bodies close. Zorvut made a soft, sleepy sound at the intrusion, but otherwise did not stir as he came to bed.
Even as tired as he was, Taegan still felt restless and nervous for a long moment as he laid there silently in the dark. He had seen the warlord beheaded with his own eyes, yet some primal part of him still paced with fear that they might be attacked, or he could be kidnapped again, or worse. Was it really over?
Sleep took him eventually, but not before he’d turned the thought over in his mind again and again.
12
Zorvut
When Zorvut woke the next morning, his whole body was stiff and painful. The wound on his back especially stung from how he’d been laying on it, but as he tried to sit up every muscle and joint in his body burned in protest. He took in a few deep breaths before forcing himself to get up, an involuntary groan escaping his lips as he did. Once he was sitting up the pain wasn’t as bad, but he still took a moment to brace himself before looking down at Taegan.
The elf was still asleep next to him, curled up in the blankets but shifted in what looked like an uncomfortable angle to keep pressure off his wounded arm. It had been bandaged when Zorvut had gone to sleep, but Taegan must have unwrapped it—the skin was red, glistening, and mottled from elbow to shoulder, and guilt filled him at the sight. Part of him knew it was far better than the alternative, that in the moment he had only done what he knew would save Taegan’s life, but still he hated himself for having done it. He was thinner than Zorvut remembered, too, much of his muscle tone lost and replaced with a gauntness that betrayed how he must have suffered. And, though it was hard to see at this angle, Zorvut could just make out the edges of bruising along his throat where he had been strangled; he hadn’t seen it the night before, but now in the light of the morning it was a dark and painful-looking purple.
He had to look away to keep himself from weeping then. Much as he had hoped being reunited with his husband would only be joyful, the evidence of how cruelly he must have been treated, still so fresh, all but broke his heart.
“Zorvut?” Taegan’s voice was small and sleepy, and as he looked back down the elf’s eyes had barely slid open, peering up at him in concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Zorvut replied with a nod, though his voice was rough, just on the edge of breaking. “I just… I was so worried about you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Taegan’s green eyes glanced away as he spoke, glancing over at his arm. He shifted slightly, then winced as he lifted his head.
“Is my neck bruised?” he asked, his voice sounding raspier the louder he spoke. Zorvut grimaced, and nodded.
“Lift your head a little so I can see,” he said, and slowly Taegan tilted his head up. Zorvut cringed at the red and purple band that spread from one end of Taegan’s throat to the other. “Gods. Yes, it… that looks painful.”
“It is,” Taegan groaned, letting his head tip forward again. A dull pain was coursing through the bond, but it dimmed as they spoke as Taegan must have been trying to keep it stifled. “I think… Can I just stay here? Is that alright?”
“Of course,” Zorvut agreed; the prospect sounded appealing to him, too, but he knew there was too much to be done for him to hide away for the entire day. “I’ll have someone bring you food and water, but stay and rest for as long as you need.”
“Okay,” Taegan murmured, his eyes already fluttering closed. Zorvut frowned, and placed his hand against Taegan’s forehead.
“You’re feverish,” he said, letting his hand linger on Taegan’s face for a moment. “Do you feel sick?”
“Just hurts,” he replied, not opening his eyes. “I’ll sleep it off.”
Zorvut nodded, letting his gaze linger on Taegan for a moment longer before stumbling out of the bed. He would have to send a healer to look at him, too.
