Page 24 of Highland Lords of War & Thunder: The Prequel

“Then I will tend the fire and leave you to rest,” she said and went to cross to the hearth.

“Leave it. I will see to it myself.”

Senna looked back at him aghast. “I cannot do that, sir. It is my duty to serve you. And if I don’t—” She shook her head and before he could argue any further, she added the log and adjusted it until the flame caught.

Legion watched her straighten and walk to the table and check the pitcher.

“There's fresh water. If you need more, one of the servants will bring it.”

“You?”

“If I'm told.”

The simple answer bothered him for reasons he couldn't explain.

“Have a peaceful night, sir,” she said and headed toward the door.

“Senna.”

She stopped and turned.

Legion wasn't certain why he'd called her back.

Her gaze met his, waiting patiently.

Then he noticed. “Your wrist.”

She glanced down at it. Red marks from the warrior's fingers were already darkening against her skin.

“It's fine.”

That she spoke as if it didn’t or shouldn’t matter, annoyed him. “It doesn't look fine.”

“It will be by morning,” she said without complaint, as though bruises were simply another inconvenience that came with her work.

Legion’s brow drew together in a frown.

Senna noticed. “He won't bother me again.”

There was no accusation in her voice. Only certainty.

“Thanks to you,” she said, her voice softer. “Good night, sir.”

“Good night, Senna.”

She left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Legion stood staring at it for several moments. She hadn't flirted, hadn’t piled him with false praise. She hadn't attempted to remain in his chamber a moment longer than necessary. She had simply thanked him and actually meant it.

Legion found that to his liking, perhaps more than he should.

Chapter Eight

Torden

Sorcha stopped the moment her front hooves struck the wooden gangplank.

Torden nearly walked into her. “Come on, lass.”