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I sat next to him. The warmth of the fire seeped into me, and I gingerly removed my cloak.
“Might as well just cut this tunic. I suppose it's ruined now,” I pursed my lips sadly. It was one of my nicer ones.
Sahlyn smiled solemnly and cut the tunic at my elbow using his dagger. Once the fabric was away, we could assess the damage to my arm. The puncture wounds were deep and could get infected if I weren’t careful, especially with whatever was on the wolf's teeth.
Argen knelt next to me and handed Sahlyn a tin. “Dwarven recipe. Ye will find nothin’ better.”
“Thank you,” I said between clenched teeth. Now that we’d pulled the fabric from the wounds, the pain was getting to me. Argen smiled and handed me a flask. He didn't say it was for the pain or that I was a weak little girl. Instead, there was nothing but respect in his eyes. I was just as much a warrior to him now as his brethren.
A shiver of pleasure moved through me. I didn’t know why the appreciation of a dwarf meant so much to me, but it did.
Sahlyn used his water skin to soak another strip of cloth and thoroughly cleansed the wounds. When he finished, he poured some liquor from the flask onto my punctures. I sucked in a breath as the pain shivered against me. Then, he slowly unscrewed the lid of the container and took out a glob of the foul-smelling green goo. His eyes lifted to mine, and I gave him a slow nod. He liberally slathered it across the wounds, and then, with another strip of cloth, he made a makeshift bandage.
“That should get you through the night,” Sahlyn’s voice was low and gravelly. My eyes went to his, and I realized how close we were. We sat next to each other on the log, my arm in his hands and our knees brushing.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my throat tight from pain and something else. I then took a sip from the flask, and I had to admit, it was the best-tasting liquor I’d ever had. Sahlyn took a sip and made a sour face. He passed it back to me with a grimace.
Before Sahlyn and I had entered the fray with the wolves, we had been on the verge ofsomethingthat made my stomach flutter.
What would we have done had there been no interference? Hugged? Kissed? No. Surely not kissed. Sahlyn and I? That seemed preposterous. But as we continued to stare at one another, my eyes drifted to his lips. The cocky quirk of his mouth edged in amusement and arrogance. When I stared at him like this, he always seemed to be hiding a smirk but failing. I’d find the egotism annoying in most men, but with Sahlyn, it was easy confidence, not egotism. And in his defense, I stared at his moutha lot.The man was sensuously made, and I couldn’t help myself.
“Acquired taste,” Argen said with a chuckle and gave me an appreciative smile when I downed another sip. The smooth drink settled in my belly, warming me the same way staring at Sahlyn Asher’s mouth did.
“Be sure to put hair on ye chest.”
Argen hadn't noticed the moment between Sahlyn and me, and I pulled myself from it. It could not be. There was way too much complication that came with it.
“We age our liquor in hick’ry and oak barrels fer more than a decade ‘fore we taste it.”
Needing something to keep my mind off Sahlyn, I moved to the ground and leaned my back against the log. I shimmied back into my cloak, and the heat of the fire was a warm welcome.
“Tell me about the dwarves.” I wanted to know because we needed to find Mondu, but also because these mountains pulled at me. I had always felt something calling me from the mountain air, increasing closer we got. Now, I felt at home, being on the edge of those mountains, gazing at their majesty under the moonlight. I felt a peace that I should not feel in a place I’d never been, with our back to a deadly forest and our fronts to a sheer drop. Peace should be the last thing I felt, but there it was.
“We’re a proud an’ stubborn lot. Our numbers have dwindled so much over the years that I can name all that live in our city. So many fled when Amira took the throne, knowin’ what it would mean fer us. She goes against the old laws. Laws that ‘ave been in place fer eons. Laws that reverberate battle, duty, and honor; all things Amira knows nothing about.”
Sahlyn tensed, and I knew he wanted to say something, but I assumed the contract kept him from voicing it. This sounded very much like Bereille, Ativan, and the Knights.
“Did you collaborate with the Knights of Catalan?” I had read that there had been a tentative alliance, but I wasn't sure of its truth.
“Aye. We did. We had a beneficial alliance fer centuries. The Knights maintained our southern borders, and we kept their borders safe from the north and Franconia. Our scouts went out together, and we ‘ad trainin’ together throughout the season. It was quite an impressive partnership. I only ‘member it from me youth, but the partnership had thrived fer centuries.”
“Did you know…” I glanced at Sahlyn, who nodded. Then, I turned back to Argen. “Did you know Ativan Cressfall, or Bereille…?”
“Bereille Leon,” Sahlyn said, his voice thick with emotion.
Argen glanced between us. His brow scrunched, then lightened. “Both names sound familiar. I was a young’un, but…” He stroked his beard. “Bereille… Me father called ‘im Blue.”
“Blue,” Sahlyn repeated with wonder.
“Aye. I think it ‘ad somethin’ to do with a blue cloak he always wore. Ye will ‘ave to ask me father when we get to Drommgar.”
“The dwarven city?”
“Aye.”
“Your father…”
“The dwarven king. Rimroc.”
