Page 39 of Daughter of the Serpent

No matter how much her mind resisted, she knew - somehow - he wouldn’t harm her.

Finally, her lips parted, and she met his stare with resolve in her voice.

“I will allow you to tend to me,” She paused. “If you show me your face.”

Until that moment he had stayed in the shadows, his hood covering most of his features aside from his eyes. Even in the forest, the feasting hall - she had only seen him from afar, never up close.

He hesitated but for a moment, before he nodded in agreement. Dipping down his hood, his face birthed from the shadows, coming alive under the warm glow of the firelight. Thick dark hair fell forward, cascading down his shoulders, partially braided and bound with silver pieces. A faint shadow of a beard outlined the firm set of his jaw, his skin smooth yet weathered by the sun. His eyes, two molten orbs of amber, locked onto hers, the flames reflecting and dancing in their depths. As he moved closer, the heady scent of cedar and pine enveloped her, rich and earthy, and it was strangely intoxicating.

He was strikingly beautiful.

But it was not only his beauty that had her holding her breath.

This was the very same man she had seen appear before her inthe rebirth celebrations. The very same vision that had seemed to whisp away in the thick of the night.

Her stomach coiled tighter -did the gods show her Axel before he had even come to her rescue?

She followed the line of his neck, where the firelight highlighted the strands of his raven hair so unlike the flaxen hues of her people. Everything about him - his darker complexion, the rich warmth of his eyes, the sharp edges of his profile - spoke of origins far from their lands.

Perhaps his claim of being Hazier was true.

Or perhaps he had been sent - from somewhere else.

“Satisfied?” He asked, and she nodded. When he finally approached, fear and curiosity intermingled.

“You must be in a lot of pain.” He stated with more observation than sympathy. “I’m surprised you’re not in the same state as your friend.”

Sylvie glanced at Tara, who lay completely still, either unconscious from the relief of the healer's balm or the pain - she couldn’t be sure, but relief washed over her regardless. She wasn’t sure how much more of her cries she could shoulder.

“I’m no stranger to pain.” She said, though it was getting to her more then she would have liked to admit. His eyes flicked back to her, and for a moment she felt as if he saw something he wished he hadn’t.

"I'll assist you in standing," He said after a moment, moving closer.

She didn’t respond, but her breath caught as his calloused hand closed over hers. His grip was firm, his long fingers splayed with a surprising gentleness that steadied her. "Take it slow."

Elevating her gradually, they moved at her pace, allowing her back to acclimate to the shift in position. She grit her teeth.

Ashes.

Despite the slow pace, the mental wall she had built to keep the pain out was crumbling.

When she fully stood, she wavered, teetering on her feet. Thegravity of the trauma she had endured began to settle in, a rush of weakness instantly permeating her limbs and sapping her energy. Swaying, he steadied her, bracing her with one thickly muscled hand, embracing the side of her waist.

Her body immediately betrayed her, relishing in the warmth of his touch, despite the pain.

Mentally she kicked herself.

What was this rush of energy she felt when he touched her, when he was near?

Guiding her towards the bed, he positioned her so she could sit, his presence a steady anchor. "I will need to open up your robe."

Fear instantly coiled in the pit of Sylvie's stomach. The mere proximity of the male sex, especially in her fragile state, conflicted with the rules outlined by the temple. Even in the healers quarters the children of the light were to be treated only by the same sex, so as not to jeopardize their purity. She hesitated, grappling with the clash between her ingrained beliefs and the practical necessity of tending to her wounds. If she didn’t clean and dress them soon, she would risk infection. Her mind fluttered with unwelcome thoughts, yet the truth settled in fatefully when she realized Brunhilda's absence left her with no choice.

“No one can know you have tended to me.” Sylvie stressed, her eyes borrowing into his. “It is not permitted.”

He nodded. “No one will know.”

With his assurance, she let the thin fabric slide back over her shoulders, slowly exposing more of the fragile flesh beneath, careful to hold the fabric securely around her breasts. As the cool air swept in around her shoulder blades, she felt her insides knot. She could still feel the sting of the whip vibrating on her skin, the throb of her open wounds now becoming more poignant that she was no longer distracted. As the fabric dropped further down her spine, shame rose to the surface, causing her to bite into her cheek. She had never exposed anything more than her ankles to a man before, with the exception of when she was before the whip or the high priest's staff.Not even Tara had seen the scars she had hidden from view. Yet now, here she was showing some of her most vulnerable parts in front of a stranger, and the weight of his gaze seemed to bore deeply into her flesh.

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