He gently pulled my hands from his neck and placed them on the ground beside his head. I bowed myself low, so my nose touched his and snarled into those blue depths.
“Well I don’t.”
In one fluid movement, he knocked my leg from under me and rolled me onto my back. He braced himself above me. A wince marked his features as he relaxed his weight off his injured arm, leaning left. He dipped low to press his forehead against mine.
“I apologize,” he bit out.
I drew in a deep, rattling breath that ended in a cough, then shoved him aside. He let me sit up, and I breathed hard, eyeing him. His armor was gone, his dark garments drenched. With an exasperated sigh, he pushed his hair off his face, glaring at the river. We were further downstream. Far enough that I couldn’t spot the boulder anymore. Had the current carried me far?
“Your clothes are clean, at least,” I mumbled.
He grunted, pushing to stand. “Too bad. I planned to give you my dry set.”
“Ha!”
“I’ll be back with soap. Stay in the shallows.”
“Oi, I’m not stepping foot in that water.” I shook my head and sent droplets flying.
The glower he gave me in return told me I’d end up in that river one way or another.
I pulled off my boots, shaking out the sand and stones, then searched my shirt to make sense of what remained of the scraps. At this point, a sleeve was attached to the tattered neckline while the other was torn, draping over my shoulder and down around my belly. The belt held true, though it wasn’t managing a lot.
Sainte came back a few moments later, the bundle of clothes and what I assumed was soap and a comb under his left arm. He tipped his face to the sky and took a deep, calming breath when he saw I hadn’t gotten into the river.
“A single swim wouldn’t scratch the surface of that grime,” he called, picking his way over.
“Well, it will have to do.”
“Take pity on the men,” Sainte set the bundle on a cluster of dry rocks, “and me.”
He tossed the bar, and I caught it, giving it a sniff. Mint and pine. Fresh. I snickered and shuffled to the water’s edge, settling on my knees. After cupping some water, I lathered the soap.
“Off with those things you call clothes.”
“And trustyou?” I called over my shoulder.
“I’m not above tossing you in a second time.”
“You said you were sorry!” I snapped a glare, checking to see if he started toward me.
“I’d apologize again.” He shrugged, then turned his back on me, perching on a chunk of driftwood.
“Your word, Sainte.” I set the soap aside, rising to my feet.
“What would you like me to pledge, Princess?”
“You’ll not look.”
“Yet, if you manage to get swept away in two paces of water, I daresay I’ll have to break that vow. I cannot.”
I snatched a pebble and threw it at him—then reminded myself I was an adult as his shoulders shook with his light laughter.
“Swear you’ll not look unless I call for you.”
“Or I hear flailing, with no response.”
“Fine.”
