Page 11 of The Healer and the Warlord

The thought should terrify me more. I should be just as scared to be trapped with him as I was to be with the other riders—even more terrified now that I knew the tales of his fearsome power were true.

But I couldn’t help the relief I felt as he kneeled before me.

Now, he pulled a small knife from his boot, like one he would use for skinning animals. He reached out, grabbing the rope between my bound wrists before slicing through it with a decisive snick.

I looked up at him in surprise and cocked my head.

“I’d rather have you steal my horse and run away than be unable to defend yourself against other riders,” he said, tone firm. “Although, after that trick with the horses…” He shrugged as he gestured for me to show him my ankles, so he could cut those ropes too. “Maybe you aren’t as defenseless as the way you hold a knife would make it seem.”

I wrinkled my nose at him at the reminder of my ineptitude, but my chest still warmed. I had not escaped, but somehow Kelvar seeing more competence in my actions than my father ever did still felt like a victory.

When I was no longer tied, Kelvar stood and reached out a hand to help me to my feet. His fingers were callused and warm against mine, and I didn’t let go right away. He didn’t move away either. Shocks of adrenaline still ran through me from the encounter, but his touch was comforting in its gentle firmness.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked, voice low and uncharacteristically serious.

I nodded. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“I can tell,” he said without a shadow of doubt in his voice. His gaze skated over me, and the warmth of his proximity enveloped me, paradoxically making me shiver in its contrast to the rapidly cooling evening air.

Seeing my shudder, he frowned and looked away.

“At least we gained one thing from this unpleasant encounter,” he observed. “We found you a change of clothes.”

Chapter seven

Kelvar

Alyx sat with her knees held close to her chest, eyes closed as she enjoyed the warmth of the fire. The robe she wore now was slightly too big, and the loose pants too long, requiring her to roll them up a few times at the ankles before shoving her feet into too-large boots. At least I had slit the man’s throat instead of stabbing him through the chest, and there were only a few errant drops of dried blood near the collar.

I observed her as I turned the strips of meat from the jackrabbit I had caught on their sticks in the fire. As much as I was happy she would be warmer—and I would no longer have to endure the infuriating sight of her in nothing but a thin shift—it irked me to see her in the clothes of the man who had attacked her.

I grit my teeth so hard they creaked in my skull at the memory and tore my gaze away from her, turning it back toward the fire.

The rage that had consumed me when I returned to the camp to find her surrounded by unfamiliar riders had been blinding. At the sight of how she kicked and fought against the man who held her by the hair, I had thrown out my hand without thinking. Magic had shattered out of me, and the first man was dead before I even realized what I was doing.

I frowned at the strips of meat, now sizzling and popping as they finished cooking. I had no right to be so angry at the thought of her being kidnapped—after all, I had captured her first, right out from under her own parents’ noses.

Alyx hummed under her breath. “That smells good.”

I pulled one stick out of the fire and handed it to her. She smiled at me as she took it. I started to smile back but jerked my gaze away before I could fully commit to the expression.

The urge to care for her was too strong. I had jumped to her protection and itched to feed her and clothe her—this time in my clothes. But I couldn’t be having these thoughts. I would be delivering her to my Lord, hopefully tomorrow, before these urges took root in my mind and would not let go.

If the desert granted me her favor, I could soon be done with this whole misadventure. It would be for the best.

I did not know what I had done to earn the desert’s ire, but I was ready to offer her all the blood I could spare to lose to be forgiven.

We rode for three days and nights with no sign of an encampment on the horizon. Each day, Alyx perched on Dileas’s back before me, her back pressed flush to my front. And each night, I watched her sleep by the fire, both relieved and pained that I no longer had to bundle her in my own robe and hold her close for warmth.

Every night, I laid awake for far too long, trying not to think about the way she had felt pressed against the planes of my body as I held her to me—what I would do if she wasn’t the daughter of the Lord of a rival clan. Having her near, but just out of reach, began to drive me to distraction.

But it wasn’t just her proximity.

It was the way she didn’t seem afraid, despite being my captive. It was the way she doted on Dileas, running her finger through her mane as I built our fire every night. My mare seemed to have betrayed me as well, stretching into the touch and whickering happily each time.

On the second day, I brought it up.

“You said you would never steal my horse, but I notice you didn’t say anything about turning her against me,” I pointed out as Alyx scratched Dileas’s withers in a way that made the mare go slack jawed with pleasure. “Is that your newest plan for escape?”