Page 22 of Under the Lion Star

The moment I was upright, nausea attacked my innards, and I doubled over, emptying my stomach contents into the flowerbed.

Grandma is not going to appreciate that.

“Shit,” El sighed, gathering my hair back behind my head until I finished heaving. “We should take you to a healer.”

“Absolutely not,” I snapped. “I hit my head. I’ll rest and be fine.”

“Stubborn woman,” he groaned. “Sit.”

He steadied me with a gentle grip on my elbow until I sat in one of the high-back chairs on the porch. When I was situated, he knelt in front of me, his broad shoulders blocking my view of the farmlands, and guided my face side to side with his fingers curled under my chin. The only sound he made was a grunt, which I wasn’t entirely sure how to translate, but all thoughts ceased when he gripped the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

The noise of fabric ripping diverted my focus from his chest to his hands, where he was tearing long strips off the garment he’d just removed. With a surprising level of tenderness, he wiped the side of my face using a piece of his tunic, frowning at the bloodstain that had formed.

El wrapped his hand around my ankle, pulling it toward him until my foot rested on his thigh. That was when I noted the growing bloodstain on my pant leg over my knee. The pain had yet to register prior to that moment, but I fought to keep my face neutral.

Without asking my thoughts on the matter, El ripped off the bottom half of my pant leg and began using another strip of his shirt to dress the wound.

The most jarring experience wasn’t any of my own pain but that which was etched across El’s face. It seemed to bloom further with each passing moment. The shadow that always appeared to exist just behind his eyes was now front and center, making my ribcage feel too tight.

“Hey,” I said softly, guiding his face to mine with a palm on his cheek. “I’m okay. None of this was your fault.”

He shook his head, averting his eyes back toward the wound on my knee as he continued his work. His fingers repeatedly speared through his hair before he finally met my gaze.

“I should’ve let you use the ladder,” his voice was a low rasp. “You shouldn’t have been up there.”

“El, it’s fine. I was just as likely to fall off a ladder as a stack of crates. It was an accident. We’re both okay.”

“But what if you weren’t okay?” He said in a near whisper. “I should’ve taken better care of you.”

His eyes looked tortured, and I got the distinct impression that if he didn’t have such tight control of his emotions, he would be on the verge of tears.

What happened to you? I thought but kept it to myself.

“You can make it up to me later,” I gave him a small smile, running my thumb over his cheekbone. “I have a sweet tooth. Also, a savory tooth.”

“Easy enough,” the one-sided smirk returned, easing the pressure I felt in my chest. “Let me clean up here, and I’ll take you somewhere with food.”

I remained in the chair on the porch, enjoying the show of a shirtless El putting away our tools and extra materials. He stored everything away in the old shed but kept glancing back at me as if I were going to drop dead at any moment.

My head ached, but I kept it to myself lest I put him back into mother hen mode.

After El was finished, he checked over my wounds once more. We argued momentarily over whether or not I should be walking, but I finally gave in and climbed atop his horse while El guided us back into the city.

The closer we got to Galvord, the more tension I could see in El’s shoulders. His lack of a shirt made it more obvious, but so did his constant assessment of anyone on our path.

After dropping off El’s horse at the stable, we ended up at a small tavern. The owner gawked at El, as had the stable hand, but he was a rather imposing figure, even when fully clothed.

Sitting at a table in a dark corner, I looked around to find he wasn’t the only shirtless patron. Several other well-muscled soldiers were inside, but even I had to admit that El was the most attractive.

“My– Your–,” the tavern owner stammered.

El only answered with a quick headshake, resulting in a nod from the old elf, who took our drink orders and returned with a clean shirt for El to wear.

“I rather liked the view,” I offered. “Not sure why he wants you to cover up when that rowdy lot over there has become increasingly naked since we arrived.”

I motioned to where a group of drunk elves played cards, one in the process of removing his pants.

“I think he was just being kind,” El explained with a smirk, pulling on the shirt that was at least a size too small.

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