Page 65 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

“Raif brought me back.” Broken glass crunched beneath her feet, louder than both of their voices.

“Get out,” Kael growled again. “Now.”

Slowly, slowly, she made her way across the room until she was standing behind him. He kept his back to her, hand still gripping the mantle. His silver-white hair hung limp and tangled, its usual iridescence dull. His shoulders were rounded as he struggled to remain standing and they trembled slightly beneath his tunic, though from exhaustion, pain, or anger, she couldn’t tell. The pair remained this way for several minutes, the silence only stirred by his ragged, unevenbreaths.

Ever carefully, Aisling raised a hand up and placed it on Kael’s shoulder. The muscles there tightened, but he didn’t pull away. Rather, it felt like he almost—almost—leaned into her touch.

“Will you look at me?” Aisling whispered. He stayed still and quiet. She waited a beat longer, then tried again: “Kael. Let me see you.”

The sound of his own name crossing her lips so softly drew a violent shiver through his body. Finally, with his eyes shut tight as though to shield himself from the sight of her, Kael turned.

The left side of his face was ravaged, down to the tendons in some places and to the bone in others. The skin around his hairline was singed black, and down his neck snaked angry red scars. She reached up without thinking, almost in a trance, and touched his face. Her fingertips played delicately over the peaks and plains of his wounds, stuck in some torturous limbo between fresh, healing, and scarred. He sagged against the mantle for support, her touch at once both comforting and agonizing. A low hiss slid through his gritted teeth.

“This was not meant for your eyes,” he rasped.

“I’ve seen worse.” Aisling fought to sound sincere despite the lump growing in her throat. His ruined skin was hot under her hand when he tipped his head so his cheek rested against her palm. “Will you let me help you?”

He opened his eyes slowly to look down at her standing before him. He studied her, searching her face. Memorizing it. Then he nodded. When she pulled her hand away, both found themselves missing that contact with the other.

Aisling guided Kael to his bed and he sat down heavily on its edge. Moving quickly, she lit several more candles off of the one on the dresser and set them up on his bedside table. Again, in the light now, she regarded him with as neutral an expression as she could manage.

“You came back,” Kael murmured. He said it so quietly Aisling wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it at all. She thought he’d say something more: to damn her for it or to order her away again. But he didn’t. He just stared ahead with a hollow gaze.

“I came back,” she said, then moved forward until their knees were close to touching. From inside of her sweatshirt pocket, Aisling withdrew the jar.

Kael recognized it instantly as Elasha’s salve and shrank back. He looked afraid now: afraid of the pain, afraid of her touch. Afraid to let her see the full extent of his weakness that showed so starkly on his skin. She could sense his fear, and her expression softened. Aisling set the jar beside the candles and instead knelt before the king.

“It’s alright,” she soothed. “They told me it would help, but if you don’t want it, I won’t force you.” She waited, watching him patiently. Kael avoided meeting her eye. When she rested a hand on his knee, he nodded.

Gingerly, groaning, he stripped his tunic off over his head. Aisling’s breath caught in her throat. This time, she was unable to stifle her reaction as she took in the twisted, winding scars that disfigured the left side of his body from hairline to hip. The sight brought tears to her eyes that she blinked back harshly. She tried to hide it by putting her full concentration on unscrewing the lid ofthe jar.

An earthy, herbal scent wafted up from the salve. It had a pale blue cast and shimmered purple in the candlelight. When Aisling scooped out a handful, it was cold to the touch. She stood and looked at Kael, searching his skin apprehensively for a place to start. The damage wrapped around his waist and crawled over his shoulder on down his back, where it lightened significantly.

“I’ll start on your back, alright?” He made no move to acknowledge her, instead staring ahead at a fixed point on the wall.

Aisling slid onto the bed to sit behind him. His closeness, something she thought she’d never feel again, radiated a warmth that eased her pounding, aching heart. She let it, just for a moment, before she pushed that feeling aside and refocused herself.

The scarring on his back was only skin-deep. Here, the salve, and her hands spreading it, were nearly comforting. Kael closed his eyes and relaxed beneath her gentle ministrations.

“Not too bad?” Aisling asked as she rubbed the medicine into the redness there. She couldn’t be sure in the dark, but it appeared to already be fading.

“Not too bad,” Kael responded.

“Good.” She worked the salve slowly over his back, giving him time to settle into a breathing pattern and allowing both of their nerves to calm.

They both knew she was spending longer there than she had to, but she needed it as much as he did. There was a pit in her stomach when she imagined the pain he’d have to endure once she moved to the front of his body. And worse still, when she thought that she’d be the one inflicting it.

“You know I have to do the rest,” Aisling warned, bracing them both. Her hands continued to rub gentle circles across his back and shoulders. The corded muscles that banded down either side of his spine flexed and tightened as he breathed.

“I do,” Kael said.

“Are you ready for that now?”

“Yes.” Though his voice was still soft, he was resolute.

Aisling stood up off the bed and circled back to stand in front of him. “Would you rather be sitting like this or do you want to lie down?”

One minute passed. Then another. Finally, as if only just processing her question, Kael eased himself back onto the bed to lean against the stack of pillows. He stared straight up at the billowing canopy above, a dark brocade that draped elegantly, if heavily, over the bed and down each of the four posts.

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