Page 11 of His Noble Savior

Richard rolled up his sleeves and fetched a jar from a shelf by the door. The little pot was well made, perfectly round and of a simple cobalt blue. Lilian’s mind wandered to how he would’ve painted it—with daisies, forget-me-nots and violas. Or perhaps he would’ve depicted an array of fruits—strawberries, peachesand cherries. He missed creating beautiful pottery.

Richard removed the lid, revealing the paste made from herbs, ashes and water that humans used to clean their hair. Lilian dove under, submerging himself in the bath and wetting his hair to the roots. When he came up, Richard had moved behind him, with a dollop of the sage green paste in his palm. It smelled fresh and grassy. If Richard used it on his beautiful curls, it couldn’t be half bad.

Richard sank his fingers into Lilian’s hair and ran them over his scalp, massaging him. As Lilian’s eyes closed, a smile formed on his lips. Back and forth, Richard’s fingertips traveled over his head, soaping him in a steady, soothing way. Lilian could’ve fallen asleep in his care. He leaned into it, resting his neck on the tub’s rounded rim. The paste expanded into a foamy mass, and Richard worked it into his roots, washing him, cleaning him of the past four months.

Soon, Richard picked up a small bucket of clean water and rinsed Lilian’s hair, the warm goodness cascading over his head. It was heaven. Then came the lavender oil, its fresh and floral scent filling the washroom. Richard spread it in Lilian’s hair and carefully separated the tangles.

Back at the Spring Court, Flora had sometimes brushed his hair, ripping the comb through his tousled strands until his eyes watered. Richard, on the other hand, proceeded with utmost care. Untangling Lilian’s messy hair would take longer like this, but he was thankful for Richard’s gentleness. How could he ever repay him?

By the time Richard finished, Lilian was delirious with the bliss of the bath, languid and sleepy. When he lifted out of the water, the bruises had faded. A sigh escaped him. The dirt and pain were gone, leaving clean, unblemished skin. He’d taken another step away from the orcs and into his new life, whateverit may hold.

Richard unfolded an enormous white towel and held it out for Lilian to step into, his eyes lowered to the ground. Lilian twisted into the towel, wrapping it around his body.

Back in Richard’s bedchamber, they found large bowls of steaming food sitting on a petite table. Lilian’s mouth watered. During the bath, he’d forgotten how starved he was, but at the sight of the food, his hunger returned with a vengeance.

“Some of my older clothing might fit you,” Richard said, rummaging through his wardrobe. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything new, but the shirts and trousers from my youth should be your size. I’ll ask a dressmaker to come take your measurements and tailor a few ensembles for you.”

“No, this is perfect. I’m very grateful.”

Lilian took the clothes from Richard, and their hands brushed, sending a pleasurable bolt through him. He stepped behind a folding screen decorated with elegant bird motifs. They’d been carved into the dark wood and plated with gold, the birds’ long, graceful tails curving to the bottom of the individual panels. It was strange to be surrounded by such luxuries when Lilian had spent countless nights lying on the cold, hard ground, shivering in his fretful sleep.

He dressed in Richard’s woolen trousers and white linen shirt, which fit him perfectly. It had to have been a long time since Richard had worn them. He appeared to be in his late twenties and was half a foot taller than Lilian. Where Lilian’s shoulders were narrow, his stretched the shirt he was wearing, his torso tapering toward deliciously slim hips.

With shaky fingers, Lilian tucked the shirt into his trousers. Richard was mere feet away, but Lilian’s jittery body didn’t like the distance. It craved Richard as if he was the air he breathed.

Fully dressed, Lilian joined him at the table, taking his seat opposite him. In front of them sat steaming bowls of vegetablestew topped with shaved cheese and generous servings of bread on the side. The table was small and round, but Lilian’s quivers only subsided when Richard took his chair and dragged it over to sit next to him.

“Better?” Richard asked with a smile.

“Much.”

Their knees brushed, and Lilian inhaled the scent of the stew, aromatic and savory. After living on the orcs’ diet for so long, Lilian could’ve cried tears of gratitude. Orcs ate meat, meat and more meat. If Lilian was lucky, they threw mushrooms, nuts or fruit into the mix, but usually, he’d gotten meat three times a day, often raw, which was impossible to stomach.

He dipped his spoon into the colorful vegetable goodness, moaning when the hot food hit his tongue. The cook had seasoned it expertly, delivering a rich taste. Lilian ate greedily, now and then dunking a thick slice of bread into the broth. It filled his stomach and expelled his hunger pains.

“You’re welcome to stay in my castle for as long as you like,” Richard said between spoonfuls. “If you wanted to return to the Spring Court, I’d be happy to organize an escort for you.” Lilian must’ve given him a startled look because Richard hurried to add, “You don’t have to make a decision today. You can take it day by day, even hour by hour. Whatever you need, you’ll get.”

The Spring Court seemed a thousand miles away. With the invasion of the orcs, Queen Dahlia would’ve raised the wards, shielding her part of the faerie realm from unwanted guests. If the orcs overran Vale, which was only a matter of time, the faerie realm was the safest place. No orc would be able to get in.

Apart from that, Lilian had no reason to return. Nobody there cared about him. Flora had never been his friend—that had become evident thanks to Richard’s selfless care of him. She’d thrown him to the wolves, not caring if they tore him to pieces.

Even with an escort, the journey to the Spring Court wasdangerous. It lay halfway across Vale, and he’d be traveling for days. What if the orcs came after him on the way? The risk wasn’t worth it.

Lilian looked at Richard, and the world warmed. His presence wrapped around him like a blanket, keeping him safe.

“I don’t want to leave,” Lilian said, and he could’ve sworn Richard’s face lit up for a split second, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

As the sun set and painted the sky in shades of bright orange and pink, a servant came to light the oil lamps mounted to the walls, dipping the room into a golden glow. With night encroaching, a question formed in Lilian’s mind: where was he going to sleep?

“What would make you feel the most comfortable?” Richard asked when he brought it up.

Lilian chewed his bottom lip. He’d been sleeping on the ground his whole life, but he wouldn’t call that comfortable. If only he had his favorite blanket, then he could curl up with it on the carpet.

“I don’t know how fae sleep,” Richard continued when Lilian didn’t answer, lost in thought, “but I can have a guest chamber prepared for you. I’ll post a guard in front of the door and give you the key so you can lock yourself in. Would that make you feel safe?”

Before Lilian’s inner eye, a big empty room opened. Tall ceiling, white walls, a lone bed. Panic filled him. What if the orcs came for him in the night? A human guard wouldn’t stop them. Against his will, Lilian trembled.

Richard placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him. “I don’t think you like the idea.”

---