Page 48 of Mated to the Alien Warlord

I still had no clue why she was here, what had happened, but I thanked the gods for having led us back together and for protecting her.

She must have felt my gaze because she looked up from her work, straight at me, and the smile that ran over her features was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

Dark circles marred the tender skin under her eyes and her stomach was much rounder than when I saw her last.

"Warlord," the warrior tried to rise at my approach, but I put a restraining hand on his shoulder, shaking my head.

"Stay still so my mate's efforts of sewing your wound shut won't be in vain," I advised and in a hoarse voice, because seeing her here, taking care of my males… it tugged at my heart.

"There," Damaris said, cutting the thread with a knife. Blood-stained fingers reached for a bandage, and she efficiently wound it around the arm, keeping it clean and secure.

"Thank you, Lady Damaris." The warrior bowed to her. "Warlord."

"Kryp," I nodded.

"You must be exhausted," I said to Damaris, who looked around, searching for another patient.

"There are so many wounded here…" she drifted off.

"Who will be well taken care of, I assure you. Now let me take care of you." And when I saw her hesitant look, I added, "Please." Even though I had never asked anybody for anything in my life.

I held out my hand, and she took it. But when I noticed her swaying when she rose, I pulled her back into my arms and carried her to my tent.

"I think you owe me an explanation," I teased halfheartedly.

I put her on the bed again. "Sit there. Do not move," I instructed before I leaned my head out of my tent to catch one of the servants' attention. "A bath, food, and drinks," I ordered in a more clipped voice than I usually used when I interacted with the servants.

"Kar, Warlord. At once," the servant acknowledged, and I moved back into the tent.

Obediently, Damaris still sat on the bed but was about to unlace her boots.

"Here, allow me." I knelt in front of her, looking up questioningly into her eyes as I unlaced the boots.

"Fionbyr's men surprised us on our way to Wyrkymburg," she said in a tired voice.

I pulled the first boot off and bristled at the sight of her red, swollen, blistered feet. "Damaris."

"I walked," she said with a wry smile. "A lot."

Servants entered carrying a tub, followed by more servants loaded with buckets of warm water.

"The khazar sent these," one of them explained at how quickly my request had been followed. I assumed Gryck had given the same order, only sooner than I, and felt grateful for serving such a thoughtful khazar.

I helped Damaris out of her tattered dress and was relieved to see that she didn't seem to have lost any weight. Her belly was rounder and so were her beautiful breasts. My mind swam with unasked questions.

"You must be as tired as I," she protested when I carefully placed her into the warm water.

"I'm used to it," I stated, meaning it. As a warrior, I was used to hardship and discomfort, both things a kallini should never experience, especially a warlord's lady.

"I'm sorry," I said, gently washing her arms.

"Whatever for?" She looked startled.

"For not keeping you safe," I confessed, deeply ashamed of my failure, because whatever had happened to her, it was obvious that I had lacked at protecting her.

"Vandor." She cupped my face with both of her hands and shook her head. "This wasn't your fault. Fionbyr's men ambushed us. I later learned they were on their way to lay siege to Wyrkymburg. You could have sent an army with me and they would have been defeated."

I shook my head. "I should have kept you with me."

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