Page 93 of Fear the Flames
“Forgive me for worrying about you.” I reach up to ruffle his hair that’s been flattened by a helmet. “Would you mind getting Saskia some water?”
His eyes flash with worry when they land on Saskia. He glances back at me and nods his head before brushing past me in search of water. I turn toward the soldier with the gash on his leg. Offering him a smile and a greeting before dropping to my knees to find the same supplies I used on Saskia. After I finish stitching him, I make my way to the next table to stitch the next person, repeating the pattern until I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve stitched and bandaged. My fingers have gone numb, and blood is caked under my nails and splattered across my arms. The injuries I’m working on aren’t too serious, but they need attention.
I finish stitching a female soldier and glance toward the entrance again. It’s the ritual I do whenever I finish taking care of a soldier. I’ll have whiplash if Cayden doesn’t stroll through soon. Even the slightest bit of movement by the entrance makes me pause and look up mid-stitch.
“Thank you, Queen Elowen,” the woman says as I wipe her blood from my hands.
“Of course.” I smile at her as she swings her legs off the table and leans against another soldier to help her hobble away.
My eyes stay glued to the opening, but Cayden never appears. Countless soldiers enter and exit, but they’re never him. I toss the bloody rag onto the table once my hands are clean. “Where are you?” I mumble in frustration.
Maybe he’s hurt in a different medic tent and can’t get back here.
Maybe he died on the battlefield.
Maybe he got captured.
I should go look for him.
“Looking for someone, angel?” I spin toward his voice. Relief slams into me, and my legs turn to jelly at the sight of him. His hair is flattened, and a mixture of dirt and blood is smeared against his face and armor, but he doesn’t appear to be injured. My eyes dance over him, soaking in every inch, but come back with no ailments. He leans against the table across from me with his hands in his pockets. Even post-battle, he’s still handsome enough to steal my breath away. My fingers grip the edge of the table behind my back to keep myself from rushing toward him. All I can think about is closing the distance between us and burying my face in his neck.
“Mhmm….” I nod my head.
“Oh yeah?” He pushes off the table and slowly walks in my direction. He’s so close that my back presses into the table. “Who might that be?”
“I’ve only seen him around a few times…blonde hair, blue eyes,” I shrug my shoulders.
He narrows his eyes and places his hands on either side of my body, caging me in. If he realizes or cares that people are staring, he doesn’t show it. “I wonder how my army will react when I discharge all the blonde and blue-eyed soldiers.”
Territorial bastard,Saskia’s voice echoes in my head, and I laugh, both at his joke and Saskia’s words. “Did you find an opening?” I whisper.
“Ryder did,” he matches my tone. It’s happening; we’ll be in Imirath tomorrow. My head swings around until I spot Ryder’s familiar frame by Saskia’s table. The last knot of anxiety loosens in my chest. They’re all safe. “The fighting was too thick on my side.”
My anxiety shoots right back up, “Were you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” His eyes shift away from mine briefly. He’s lying.
“Don’t lie to me, Cayden.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. Now isn’t the time for him to be stubborn. If he’s hurt, even with a minor injury, then I’d rather fix it now instead of waiting for it to get worse or hinder something while we’re on the heist.
“As I recall, you promised me to stay in the tent,” he deflects my statement.
“I promised you that I would stay out of the charge. I’m capable of compromise.” He grinds his teeth, knowing I have the upper hand on him. I keep my eyes narrowed and wait for him to answer me.
“My shoulder,” he grumbles, clearly hating being defeated. “It’s not cut, just sore.”
“Shirt off, sit on the table,” I instruct. “I’ll wrap it to help lower the swelling.”
“I’d prefer it if you kissed it better,” he smirks down at me.
“Shirt off and on the table, soldier,” I command again, pointing a finger in his direction.
“So bossy,” he mutters, unlocking his armor and lifting his shirt over his head. I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it. My annoyance cools at the sight of his lean and defined torso. Damn him for being so attractive. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t. My eyes track the love bites that dance across his skin from last night, trailing from his neck to his waist. I still have a few marks on myself as well, not that I mind. I like the reminder, and it seems he does too considering he lets the light dance along his torso for everyone to see as he takes a seat.
My fingers push the strands that have fallen from my braid back behind my ears while I grab a roll of bandages from under the table. I could stand on the side of his legs to avoid staring into his face, but he widens them, which would make it harder for me to reach across. Instead of telling him to move, I stand between his thighs.
“How did you hurt your shoulder?” I ask while unwrapping the bandages.
“Someone rammed into me; I killed them.” He brushes it off like it’s an everyday occurrence to be rammed into.
