Arella continued to speak in her blunt and sometimes dismissive fashion. “Bria, you will take—” She glanced at the man, waiting.
Silence met her but only briefly, then he spoke. “I am known as Kaelan.”
Arella turned back to Bria. “Take Kaelan to one of the recovery cottages.” Her head snapped back to him. “Go and rest, for that wound will pain you more soon enough. Hannah will bring you a brew before nightfall to help with the growing pain and possible fever.”
“Growing pain you say,” Kaelan repeated. “Then it would be good if Bria could bring me the brew since she is a comfort healer and her touch would be appreciated.”
“I can give the brew to Bria,” Hannah said with relief in her voice.
Kaelan pushed himself to his feet with little effort, and Bria’s eyes followed him. He was tall. She was of fair height, a bit taller than most women. Still, she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes.
“You will not be leaving here bare-chested,” Arella said before he could take a step. “Bria, see that he gets his shirt on, and leave off the leather vest. It will only aggravate the wound.”
Kaelan reached for his shirt draped over the nearby bench, then paused, his gaze shifting to Bria. “You will assist?”
It was not a demand. Nor was it quite a request. But she was a healer, a comfort one at that, and her touch would ease the chore of slipping on his shirt.
Bria stepped forward and took the shirt from him. “Raise your arm as much as you are able.”
He did so carefully.
She slipped the fabric over his uninjured arm first, her movements slow and gentle—though she was more aware of him now than she had been before. The warmth of his skin brushed hers like a gentle kiss, raising gooseflesh along her skin. The immense strength in the lines of his shoulders and his muscles, taut without any effort, warned of a fierce warrior.
She drew closer cautiously to guide the other side, mindful of the bandaged wound, her fingers brushing lightly along his upper arm as she eased the sleeve into place.
The contact stilled her, not in body—but from deep within. Then a strange awareness stirred, far deeper than what she knew of her gift. It was not the quiet easing she brought others, not the calm that flowed so naturally from her touch. This was differentand strong, as if something reached out to her, tugging at her to join it.
Her breath caught, though she gave no outward sign of it, continuing her task as she settled the shirt across his shoulders and adjusted the fabric with careful hands.
Kaelan did not move, nor speak.
But she felt it again. There was something in him, steady and unmistakable, as though her touch had reached farther than it should.
She drew her hands away and the absence of it came just as quickly, leaving her feeling an unexpected emptiness. Like the last time her hands left him. And just like the last time, it was brief and gone before she could understand it. But she could not ignore having felt it.
Finished, Bria stepped back, relieved by the distance, even if it wasn’t much.
Arella gave an approving nod. “Better. You’ll keep the wound from further irritation that way. Leave your vest and sword. They will be brought to the cottage for you.”
Kaelan’s gaze lingered on Bria a moment longer than it should have, something strange shimmered in his eyes before he turned toward the door.
Bria moved ahead of him, pushing it open.
As they stepped outside, cool air greeted them, carrying the scent of pine and distant sea.
The quiet rhythm of the village wrapped around them, so different from the tension left behind.
They walked a few paces before Kaelan spoke.
“May I?” he asked, extending his hand to her.
Her brow narrowed as she cautiously asked, “You wish to hold my hand?”
“Aye. The movement has stirred the wound, and you are a comfort healer,” he said as if she needed reminding.
She hesitated, though not because of the request, but because of the memory of what she had just felt. What she had not understood and, yet strangely enough, what she found herself wanting to feel again.
Slowly, she extended her hand.
