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“You remember my name. That’s a really good sign. I was worried for a while there,” he replied softly, his expression contemplative.
“A while?”
“You’ve been sleeping for about three days while I tended your wound. When we arrived, you were so cold. Your clothing was soaked, so I dressed you in something dry.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm, realizing that I wasn’t wearing any underwear, not even a bra. I lifted the blanket and looked down, seeing a thick shirt that was so long on me that it looked like a dress. He’d probably seen me naked, and I didn’t know how to take that. Had he liked what he’d seen?
What if it had just been out of the goodness of his heart, and he hadn’t liked it at all?
I pressed my thighs together, not willing to face the heat swirling in my core at the thought. My head wasn’t pounding as hard anymore.
“Three days…” I murmured, needing to change the subject as quickly as possible. The more I thought about him seeing me naked, the more my arousal and embarrassment spiraled out of control, and this was probably a really bad time for that.
“Your heartbeat was steady the whole time, at least as soon as I was able to get your body temperature back up. I bandaged your head, but I should change the dressing soon.”
I went to sit up on my own, but he jumped to slide a hand behind my neck, lifting me up to a fully seated position so that I didn’t strain myself. His proximity was both alarming and welcoming at the same time, but there was no missing the tenderness in his touch. His fingers wrapped around my head like he was holding a sphere of glass, very carefully supporting me, and avoiding any contact with the injury to the side of my head.
Once I was fully upright, the world started to spin a little bit and I closed my eyes.
“Easy, sweet girl. No need to rush. Here. Take a sip of water for me,” he offered.
Slowly, the world stopped rotating on a spindle, and I took a deep breath as I started to feel more like myself. I could hear the rustling of his shirt as he reached for something on the table beside me.
Gently, he took a hold of my chin and pressed the rim of a glass against my lip. My eyes fluttered open as he tipped it towards me, and I took a tiny sip, unable to stop myself from choking when it hit the back of my throat. He pulled the glass away, only bringing it back once I stopped coughing. He helped me to drink half of it before he put it on the bedside table. Then he pressed a small cloth-wrapped pastry into my hand.
“Eat this slowly. Take small bites. I want to make sure your stomach accepts the food, and you don’t get sick,” he instructed, glancing with concern at the side of my skull. I would have argued, but he had a point. Throwing up right now would make everything that much more incredibly shit-tastic.
I really didn’t want that.
Wanting to put up some semblance of a fight, I opened my mouth to protest his over attentiveness to my well-being, but I immediately closed it when my belly roared loudly with hunger. It certainly sounded like I’d gone three days without food. The more I thought about it, the more famished I became, so I decided the fight wasn’t worth it, choosing to break off a small piece and place it on the flat of my tongue instead.
“Good girl.”
Immediately, a hot flush warmed my face, and I stilled, taken aback by the gravity of those two words. At first, I wanted to snap back at him, but something held me back. As the seconds ticked by, I slowly realized that I didn’t hate them. I liked them. The heat intensified, and I dipped my head in an attempt to hide my smile of pleasure at his praise, but I was pretty sure he’d seen it anyway.
To my relief, he let it go. Ignoring my embarrassment, he reached for my bandage and started to unwind it as gently as he could. He went slowly enough that it didn’t hurt, at least until he approached the last layer of the linin. He clicked his tongue and grabbed the glass of water, tipping it a little to moisten the fabric.
As he worked, I kept eating the pastry. There were small pieces of apple baked right in, which made me feel a little more at home, even though I knew I was very far from it.
Had my stepmother and stepsisters even noticed I was gone? Did they even care?
“I’m going to have to clean this. Let me get a bowl of soap and water. I’m afraid this next bit might hurt some, but I will try my best to keep it at an absolute minimum,” he explained, his tone reluctant and somewhat mournful.
His eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help but notice that he looked a little troubled. His gaze turned to my head as he sighed, visibly upset over my injury. I didn’t understand why he would care so much. There were still several gaps in my memory, one of the blank spots being how I was wounded in the first place.
“How was I hurt again? I can’t remember.”
“We were attacked by a group of ice wraiths. One of them grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back hard enough to slam you on the ground. You hit your head really hard on a rock and passed out. I should have taken you further south before we stopped for the night, which likely would have circumvented the whole situation to begin with, but I was worried about how vulnerable you humans are to the cold. I’m sorry you got hurt, Ella. That wasn’t my intention,” he answered, his sorrow and regret bleeding through with every word.
“It’s not your fault,” I replied.
He surveyed me with a look like he didn’t believe me. I was going to say something further, but he stood up, and I peered around the room for the first time. To my right was a massive hearth, full of a roaring fire inside it. Its constant warmth was comforting, and I took a moment to relax. He’d said this was his home, and that alone was intriguing.
This wasn’t the home of a simple mountain man. I’d thought Nykor might have been something of a ranger tasked with patrolling the northern reaches of his realm, but this wasn’t a mountain hut or a cabin meant to be a stopping point along the way. This was something much grander than that.
This was a great hall worthy of a grand renaissance style castle back home on Earth. Both the floor and the walls were built out of grey stone. The ceilings were probably twenty feet high with large wooden support beams that gave the room a homey feeling, offsetting the cold from the stone. Giant archways in the entryway gave the place a feeling of opulence despite the sparseness of the furnishings inside. I noticed that I was lying on a bed of some kind, my body covered in woolen blankets and furs. There were several other tables and chairs around me. In the past, this had been a gathering place, but now the only inhabitants were him and me.
The fireplace itself was breathtaking. The stone mantle was carved with an intricate tribal design. There was a giant wolf carved into either side with its head thrown back as if it was howling at the moon.
