Page 7 of The Fires of Longest Night
“Nissa, truly.” Ria pulls away just enough to see the tears in Nissa’s eyes. “Oh, Nissa,no, don’t cry.”
At the sight of the concern in Ria’s gaze, Nissa chokes a laugh and swats at her face, trying to dash her tears away.
Ria catches her hands to stop her and gives her a look that makes Nissa’s heart feel like it might break should it swell anymore. “Hush, love. I’m whole. It’s not serious, I promise.”
Nissa’s heart gives a tiny leap at the casual endearment—one that has never left Ria’s lips before—and then as Ria’s strong hands close gently around her face, the tears only seem to fall more readily at the tender touch. Her hands should not feel so gentle, worn into callouses on weaponry as they are, but her thumbs catching at the tears on Nissa’s face feel like warmth and velvet together.
The expression of worry and regret in Ria’s face shifts, and her gaze drops to Nissa’s mouth, and Nissa can barely make herself draw breath, in case she breaks this moment. Ria should kiss her, now. Right now, for the first time, here, spattered with dry blood and dirt, because she has never wanted to know what those lips would feel like against hers as much as she does right now.
But Ria hesitates. Nissa can feel her breath against her face, but she slides a hand down so slowly, until it strokes Nissa’s throat, and Nissa can’t keep back the tremulous gasp. Her eyes slide closed, unable to hold, gods above, unable to hold back the swelling tide of feeling cascading from Ria’s thumb smoothing against her lower lip.
She draws a breath to say,kiss mebut—
“Well, she’s not on death’s doorstep, then,” says a tart voice behind them, and heat like a dragon’s breath flashes over Nissa. She’s on her feet before she even realizes she must have pulled away from Ria.
She glances down, and Ria is smirking down at her hands, her thumb rubbing against her finger, over and over. Nissa can’t keep back the half smile, so she presses her lips together hard to suppress it.
“No, I think she will survive.” Nissa is impressed that she manages to sound calm and authoritative and not at all embarrassed, though she’s pretty sure that her cheeks, dark as they might be, are betraying something.
“Mmmhmm,” replies Illima, raising a brow.
“I have three wounds, none serious but at least two of which will need your skills, though,” Ria says, and she holds her hand out to Nissa to help her up.
Nissa closes her hand around Ria’s, pretending she doesn’t feel the heat that cascades through her body again, and pulls her to her feet. Ria winces, and as soon as she’s upright, releasesNissa’s hand to close it around her upper arm, where blood is drying against the ragged tear in her shirt.
Illima ducks to look more closely at the wound and shakes her head.
“That’s notnotserious,” she says firmly. “And it’s this?” She gestures to Ria’s upper chest, and Ria nods. “And the third?”
Ria winces, pulling back to reveal the puncture to her hip. Nissa inhales shakily at the sight: blood continues to ooze slowly from the ragged cut, and her trousers are soaked. “I don’t think it’s particularly deep…”
“Could’ve caught some organs in there, though.” Illima makes a face. “Still don’t think you’ll need these lads. Thanks anyway, boys, but I think she can walk.”
Nissa flushes, embarrassed that her reaction has proven to be overkill.
“But it was the right instinct, Nissa,” Illima says swiftly. “It’s always better to be sending people back to their work than scrounging for helpers if we need them.”
Nissa nods a little stiffly, and when Ria shuffles then staggers, she slides her arm around Ria’s solid torso and pulls her right arm around her shoulders. Illima gives her a quick glance, her mouth quirking, but she doesn’t say anything—she just turns and leads the way along the path towards the encampment.
CHAPTER 5
RIA
Four hours later, the sun has set, and the Longest Night fire is stoked high. The feast that Bartleboy had planned with Derrinza the head cook is coming to a close, and there is joy and music around the fire.
Ria is in pain. She knows from long experience that wounds hurt more hours after they’ve been acquired than at the time, but in her hope about this Longest Night, she hadn’t really factored in howmuchit might hurt. And how much that pain might be slowly feeling like it might be sapping all the romance and promise out of the evening.
And it is making her grouchy.
She watches as, across the fire, Nissa spins in a dance with four of her friends, her long braids spiraling out around her. The sight makes her smile and wish she could make her way over, match Nissa’s steps...
Resset takes up a spot next to her on the log, following her gaze, and then turning back to her. “Haven’t recalled anything else about your attacker?” he asks, as she knew he would.
“Nope,” Ria says shortly. “Nothing. All just as I described it to you and the Warlord.”
The Warlord and his second had come into the healer’s tent just as Nissa was tying off the stitch in her arm. Ria had given a full report and answered every question with good grace and a deal less of her habitual insouciance. She hates the way that Resset always seems to presume everyone else’s incompetence.
Especially hers.
