Page 13 of Paladin's Faith

They were passing a drover with a line of bored-looking cattle when disaster struck.

A dog came out of nowhere, barking at the cows. Most of them ignored the animal, but one youngster made a deep sound of alarm and kicked up his heels. The drover turned to get him back in line when the dog darted forward and nipped savagely at another cow’s hocks.

The cow jumped forward, startled, swinging her head to look at the dog. Marguerite’s mare was sufficiently placid that neither the sound nor the motion bothered her much, though she did manage a rather graceless sidestep. Marguerite tightened the reins just as the cow kicked out in a panic.

The cow’s aim was good, if slow. The dog was fast enough to dodge, but dodging put it practically under the mare’s hooves, and suddenly there was a barking dog and a kicking cow and the mare was no longer feeling placid at all. Marguerite had time to think, Oh shit and then the horse went up on her hind legs to avoid stepping on the dog and crow-hopped sideways and the dog went nuts and the cow kicked again and the drover was yelling and she lost her seat on the saddle and the horse came down and Marguerite fell off and the ground came up to meet her.

SEVEN

“Easy…” someone said in her ear. “Easy. Don’t move. I’m right here.”

Marguerite wanted to say that she was fine, she hadn’t even lost consciousness in the fall, but her head was still ringing and adrenaline was a cold wash through her veins. She wasn’t quite sure how long it had been. She didn’t think she’d blacked out, but there had been a long few seconds when the world was going whommmmm around her and she had been carefully not moving, in case it didn’t stop.

The horse hadn’t stepped on her. That was the important thing. It would be extremely annoying to have dodged the Sail for several years, only to have her career ended with a badly placed hoof.

“Easy,” he said again. A man, but she didn’t quite recognize his voice. “Easy. Hold still. I’m going to check your neck. Don’t move. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

Of course you’re right there, she thought. She would have been annoyed but there was something incredibly soothing about the way he spoke. She could not remember the last voice she’d heard that was so gentle, so trustworthy. She wanted to trust that voice, to believe that everything really was okay.

Strong fingers moved down the back of her neck. “Does this hurt at all?”

She tried to shake her head and the hands immediately locked into place, holding her head still with unexpected strength. “No, don’t do that. Tell me. Can you talk?”

“I can talk,” she said. Her mouth was full of sand and more got in when she opened it.

“Good, good.” That voice made speaking sound like a great accomplishment. “You’re doing good. Tell me if anything hurts.”

“My knee hurts like the devil.”

A deep, sympathetic noise. “We’ll get there in a minute. Can you wiggle your fingers?” Marguerite wiggled them obediently. “Good girl. Does your head hurt?” He slid his hands across her skull. “Any sore spots?”

“There.”

He fell silent, fingers gently working over the soreness. “Nothing soft,” he said after a moment. “Nothing bleeding. Can you focus your eyes?”

He’s a healer. Of course. I should have realized before. That was the kind of voice it was. Calm and kind and absolutely in control of the situation. Marguerite could recognize it now, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying it. There was a nagging familiarity to it, though. Had they met before? And where were the paladins when she was lying injured on the dirt with a strange man poking her head?

“I can focus just fine,” she said. “There’s a pebble in front of me shaped vaguely like a goat. I can’t say it’s terribly interesting. Can I move yet?” She hadn’t slept on her stomach since she was thirteen and her breasts were squashed in uncomfortable ways.

“Just a little longer. You’re doing very well.” She felt his thumbs settle on either side of her spine, moving lower. His forearm brushed her back. There was nothing remotely sexual about his touch, but Marguerite was incredibly aware of his presence. Those hands…and that voice. Damn. He’s got to be taken. Men who sound like that never stay on the market for long.

She really wanted to see his face. Maybe she’d be lucky and he’d have a face like a frog’s ass and the other women in his life had all been terribly shallow and she could sweep in and prove to him that looks were all a matter of attitude anyway and what mattered was who you were on the inside and…dammit all, we’re on a deadline, we have to go save the world’s economy, I don’t have time for dallying along the way. Crap.

“I don’t feel any breaks,” he said after a moment. He took her left arm and stretched it out. “Does this hurt?”

“Angle’s a little awkward, but no.”

Wren’s voice intruded. “Foster caught the horse,” she said, from somewhere over Marguerite’s head. “Is she okay?”

“She’s doing fine,” said the healer.

“Hi, Wren,” said Marguerite. “I fell off my horse.”

“Yes, I saw. It was pretty spectacular. You did an amazing shoulder roll.”

“Did I?”

“Does this hurt?” Her left leg this time, though he wasn’t rubbing his hands over it the way he had her neck. Damn.

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