is it you’ve brought?” The liege swiveled both of them to ask.
Aislynn was being held against him, where her cheek rested against his chest. From this hearing distance, his voice was a thing of immensity in one ear. She didn’t hear Weasel’s answer, or even if he gave one. All she heard was the door slamming and the liege’s huge sigh. The whiff of air touched her head.
“That one reminds me of a weasel.”
She started and moved her head to stare. He’d turned them toward the light and the look on his face wasn’t sinister or fearsome. He looked more like he was hiding a smile.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t note it.”
Aislynn caught the answering smile, probably giving her the same expression he had.
“So…you did see it. This is good. Such a thing binds us. You and me. The beast and the witch.”
Aislynn stiffened. It was stupid, since her movement put her entire frame against his. Beyond a blink, she ignored how it felt as she glared up at him. “I’m nae witch,” she said finally.
“I’ve said something to distract you from fear? Good. Come. Show me what you plan to do to my brother with these weapons you’ve requested.”
Brother? Aislynn wondered at her blindness as he moved them back to the pool of light above Brent’s prone form. There was a pile of herbs and a broken jar on the floor.
“You must unhand me,” Aislynn told him.
He sighed, moving her with it. Her eyes widened. “If, as you say, I must do this, then I must. But only for the moment, I fear.”
“I dinna’ understand,” she replied.
“You haven’t given an answer. Without it, I have nothing. You’ll escape me. I think you a mountain sprite, or a lowland faery, or an enchantress; one possessing uncommon beauty, and a heretofore unknown sweetness of smell. If I release you I have nothing.” He released her and stepped back.
“You…jest.” Aislynn choked out the words, and went to her knees to check the supplies and keep the reaction on her face to herself.
“I never jest,” he answered.
“You flatter, then.” Her voice was stronger.
“I never flatter.”
“I tire of the telling. I am neither faery, sprite, or enchantress. I’m a healer.”
“You didn’t tell me I would ponder the methods of bewitchment you practice, though. You forgot to speak that part.”
She gasped at the floor. “I’ve done naught,” she whispered.
“Here. Cover yourself.”
It was his short cloak falling onto her shoulders. Aislynn had a moment to enwrap herself in his smell, before she stopped.
“Make certain there are no escaped locks of hair. Cover that skin. Such perfection was meant to be touched and savored…enjoyed. You’re a bewitching maid. Almost too much so. I’ll not leave. I will give you distance. I will give myself the same.”
He was speaking the soft words in an ongoing cadence of sound, making a sonnet of words. She could believe him a troubadour. She could believe almost anything of him. She focused on her supplies. It was all she could think of.
Weasel had broken the jar containing her herbs. The floor held the fragrant aroma. Aislynn picked up each linden flower petal, scraping them with her fingernail to release the aroma before mashing them in the jar bottom. Then, she moved toward Brent.
“What is it you do?”
“Make certain he does na’ choke on his own blood,” she replied.
He grunted. Aislynn ran a hand over Brent’s jaw, feeling for the joints.
“What are you doing now?” he asked.
“Checking for breaks.”
“I broke no bones.”
“Nae? You loosened teeth and I fear his nose is broken. You must na’ realize your own power.” She was adding scooped water into the jar and mashing the linden flowers with her fingers into a paste.
“Tie the cloak more securely. Cover your head.”
Aislynn glanced from the corner of her eyes at him. He was pacing; silently and stealthily…passing through the light before disappearing into the gloom. Reappearing. Disappearing. In a leonine fashion. Prowling. The word flashed through her mind.
“I will na’ be able to see, if I…cover myself,” she replied.
“I did not save you from ravishment only to practice it myself,” he answered from the darkest corner.
Aislynn lifted the cloak over her head.
“What is it you do now?” he asked, with a rough edge to his voice.
She glanced at him and then back to her supplies. “’Tis linden flower and mistletoe to make a paste for his teeth. I dinna’ know how many are loose. I am checking.”
“What good is this paste?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It takes away pain. And lessens swelling.”
“He cannot feel pain. He’s yet to awaken from my blow.”
“True.” Aislynn dipped a finger of the herb mixture and filled Brent’s lips with it. The liege had loosened four teeth that she found, two seriously. If the man gave them time to heal, they’d seat themselves again without trouble. The paste would help.
She finished and ran her fingers lightly down the bridge of Brent’s nose. It was crooked.
“What is it you do now?” he asked.
“It needs straightening. It will heal faster and look better for him.”
“What is it to you, how it looks?” His voice wasn’t the same warmly embracing tone. It was cold.
Aislynn moved her hands to her lap and watched them. “The same I have for any creature in need; even a creature of prey. I know it will attack again, yet I still heal it. Because a gift is na’ something to spit in the face of. ’Tis exactly as I did this morn. To you.”
He didn’t say anything for long enough, Aislynn had time to wring her hands, run them over her hips, tuck a lock of hair back behind her ear, and then glance in the direction he’d last moved to.
“Finish,” he said.
She went onto her knees, put a hand on either side of Brent’s nose, placed her fingertips along it and said the silent words of prayer. Then she was gripping his nose and wrenching it sideways, using both wrists. The result was an instant release of blood all over her. “Quickly! Hand me the peat!”
He
