27. Chapter 25 Arden

Chapter twenty-seven

Chapter 25: Arden

B y the time we arrive back at the shed, I am exhausted. There were piles of brush and logs that I had to help the centaurs work around with the deer. Solina helped some, but Umurn stuck to his word of not helping me in any way other than keeping me alive.

After spending the last weeks not doing anything physical—except having sex with Camus—and not eating much, I'm not as strong as I used to be. Sitting on two large benches outside of the shed are Ursa, her three minions, and Dira. Camus is pacing next to where they sit and shouting at Ursa, though I can't quite make out what he's saying. Ursa spies us first and bolts to her feet. She steps closer to us, but halts when she sees the centaurs.

Camus sprints up to us. "You're covered in blood! Are you hurt?" He begins checking me over, pulling up my sleeves, and lifting the hem of my shirt, looking for any wounds.

"I'm fine," I say, placing my hand, still covered in dried blood, on his cheek.

"What on earth are you doing with centaurs." Ursa spat out the last word as if they weren't worthy of even being in her presence.

"They were helping me, since Umurn wasn't allowed to."

She shifts her gaze to what the centaurs are dragging behind them "They helped you get a..." her eyes go impossibly wide, " forest guardian?!"

"She slaughtered the guardian all on her own. We just offered to help her bring it back," Thadisthius says.

"Out of the kindness of her heart?" Ursa says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No. With the agreement that she would discuss some of our complaints with her new mate, and that she would honor the ritual of The Guardian."

Ursa snorts and looks at me before letting out an uncharacteristic cackle. " You are going to eat the heart of the beast?"

"If it's the only way to return its spirit to the land for the next Guardian to take over, then what choice do I have? Now do I get to stay in these clothes to cook, or do I need to put that ridiculous dress back on?"

"I don't know. You look pretty hot all covered in blood, and in these leather clothes." Camus tips my chin up so he can kiss me. When he pulls away, his eyes roam over me again. "You know you have blood on your forehead, right?"

"Have you ever gutted a deer before? It's messy work. Can we please get this deer dealt with so that I can cook it and sit down for a bit?"

My body screams with soreness with every step. My only hope is that there's a stool I can sit on in the kitchen while I prep food.

Ursa says, "You can stay in that if you wish or we have more comfortable, less...sweaty clothes you can change into."

"Let's do that." I turn back to the centaurs. "One last favor, can you guys string him up for me so I can cut him up?"

"Anything for you, miss," Phinestros says and gently places a hand on my hair eliciting a growl from Camus.

His hand snaps out and he grabs Phinestros' hand and wrenches it back causing an audible pop. Phinestros rears back, his front hooves flailing toward me and Camus. In my periphery, I catch Umurn notching an arrow, and aiming for the centaur.

"NO!" I shout and position myself between the centaur and Umurn who looses his arrow, and it catches me in the forearm.

Camus is struck in the chest by a hoofed foot and tossed backward. Having neutralized the threat, Phinestros comes to a halt, hissing in pain and cradling his wrist.

Once the commotion stops, Solina's eyes land on the arrow sticking out of my arm. She rushes toward me and says, "Arden!" She pauses as she catches the scent of my blood, and her eyes go black. "Camus!" she calls. "Get Arden to the healer."

"Miss Arden!" Umurn says stepping toward me. "I'm so sorry." His brow furrows. "Why would you get in the way of my arrow like that?"

"Just as I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, I won't let anyone hurt them. All of you have showed me nothing but kindness. It was my fault that you shot me, but don't ever point your bow at these two again."

"I was in charge of ensuring your safety. My post has not ended yet. I was only protecting you."

Camus approaches, tossing an angry look over his shoulder at Phinestros. "Should have let him shoot the beast." His eyes are black as he inhales my scent.

"Stop it," I hiss. "These three helped me out in those woods today. They are not your enemy, nor are they mine."

"He shouldn't have touched you."

"Get over it," I say through clenched teeth. The arrow sticking out of my wrist is starting to ache and sting now that the adrenaline has wore off. "Can we please go see the healer?"

"Yes. Let's go," Camus grumbles, and pulls me toward the castle.

I pause. "Fuck! I can't go."

"Why not?" Camus asks incredulously.

"Because I killed that fucking forest guardian and I'll be damned if I'm letting that meat go to waste. I have to cut it up so I can cook it for whoever I'm stuck with for dinner tonight."

Camus pinches the bridge of his nose then turns to Umurn. "Cut up that deer. harvest its meat. Be gentle with its pelt, and preserve the antlers. We've got to use what pieces we can. When enough meat is taken from its carcass, set the beetles on it. We want the bones as well. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sir Camus. Umurn wasn't supposed to help Arden with her task," Ursa protests.

"She surpassed the task, and now she needs medical attention before she ends up with an infection. Umurn will do what I say, and if my grandmother takes issue with that, then tell her to take it up with me. Neither of you may disobey a direct order from me."

I turn to Solina. "Take what you want of the venison. There's plenty there. Umurn, you and your brother can have some as well. I only need enough for this stupid dinner tonight."

"Thank you," Umurn says, ducking his head. "You're too kind to me."

"Yeah just try not to shoot me next time." I turn to the centaurs. "I promise I'll do what I can."

"You just saved my life, Arden. That's more than enough," Phinestros says.

"I wasn't aiming to kill, ya big dumb deer. I was just trying to knock you down so you couldn't hurt anyone," Umurn snaps.

I chuckle and walk away, cradling my arm, careful not to knock the arrow into anything. Camus wraps his arm around my shoulder as we walk. The sound of their bickering continues to hit my ears the entire way to the castles' back steps.

When we get to the doors he pauses and faces me, placing his hand on my cheek. "You need to stop being so reckless."

"Says the guy who just dislocated a centaurs wrist. Nothing I did was all that reckless."

"I'll be the judge of that. You can tell me all about your adventure while I clean the blood off of you. After your visit to the healer of course." He grabs my elbow and leads me into the castle.

"Any chance this will get me out of training duty while keeping my points in tact?"

"It absolutely won't. Grandmother is a stickler for rules. But you're not going anywhere without me being nearby from here on out. Judging from how much trouble you got yourself into foraging for mushrooms I think it's best that I keep an eye on your training."

After dropping off the heart and my foraged food in the kitchens, we eventually reach a large wooden door and Camus pulls the door open for me. Their infirmary is not as open and bright as the one in Feldorn. There's dried herbs hanging from the low ceilings. It smells like a massage parlor inside. The walls are lined with bookshelves housing books, herbs and tinctures. It's disorganized. It's homey. I love it.

"Who has entered my infirmary smelling that delicious?" A raspy voice calls from a room off the left hand side of the main area.

An older looking fae man steps through the doorway, and approaches, wiping his hands on his apron. He's sporting thick bottle bottom glasses, and he looks more like a mad scientist than a fae healer. Though, underneath his disheveled appearance and his glasses, he's quite handsome.

He pushes the glasses up on his head, and as his eyes adjust, it occurs to me that they're for magnification—not to help his regular vision. His blackened vampire eyes land on my wrist, and he licks his lips before his gaze shifts to Camus who has a possessive arm around my shoulder.

"Sir Camus!" he says with a deep bow. "What a lovely surprise! And who is this scrumptious thing?" he asks, his attention falling back on me.

"Hello Sterling. This is Arden. She is a guest in the castle, and she needs your assistance. She's the one you're making the suppressants for, so your magic won't work."

"No, of course not. But my blood might."

"Absolutely not," Camus growls and shifts so he's partially in front of me.

The old man chuckles, and holds his hands up in surrender. "She's yours. I get the message. I had heard rumor you had mated with a female. Good for you." He turns his back and begins gathering some supplies.

Then he continues, "Well if that's the case, your blood is going to be the best bet. I do have a couple of tinctures that will help with the pain. A couple of herbal remedies to help her sleep. I can of course get the arrow out and stitch up the wound, but it'll take time and blood to help heal it."

"You can't do anything more?"

"I'm afraid not," he calls, now in the furthest corner of the infirmary. "That's the biggest inconvenience about those damn suppressants. I hate them anyway. They smell bad, they're a pain to make, they take time that I could be using for more important matters; and your grandmother has me working my ass off down here, believe me. But the fact that they make me so damn ineffective at my job makes my blood boil."

"You should try spending some time in the human realm," I say with a snort. "They have to heal everything with stitches and time. They don't have anything to speed the process along. This wound in the human realm would put me out of commission for weeks."

"Yes, well thank The Stars we don't have to live among those barbarians."

"Thank The Stars indeed." Camus says looking down at my arm with a frown.

"Have a seat!" Sterling says, patting a bed. "Best get to work.

"What about you?" I ask, looking at Camus while Sterling pulls out a small vial.

"Brace yourself. This will sting."

He pours the contents of the vial over the wound, allowing the silvery substance to drip down onto my lap. I hiss in pain, and Camus squeezes my free hand as though my injury hurts him as much as it hurts me. Maybe through the bond, it does.

"What about me?" he asks, watching Sterlings hands—and fangs—like a hawk.

"Your chest. Phinestros kicked you."

"I'll be fine," he says and waves his hand.

"Take your shirt off," I demand.

"Why?"

"I said take it off. You need to be in peak condition at all times. Take off your shirt and let the man heal you."

"It's nothi—"

"I said take...it...off!"

Camus stares at me, his mouth a tight line, his fingers twitching like he wants to put me in my place. But he won't; at least not in front of a witness. Sterling glances up through his lashes at Camus with a smirk on his face.

"You better do as the young lady says. I dare say that if we weren't pumping her full of drugs that she could take you down... sir. "

I snort in amusement, and with an exasperated sigh, Camus finally relents and begins unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes, harboring a look nestled somewhere between irritation and admiration, never leave mine as he slowly undoes each one.

Peeking out from under his shirt as he undoes the second button, is a brilliant purple and red bruise. As his hands work further down his shirt, so does the discoloration. I suck in a breath between my teeth and reach toward him with my uninjured hand.

"Camus!"

He intercepts my hand with his own. "I'm really fine, darling. A couple of days and I'll be as good as new."

"Nonsense!" Sterling says. "I can have you patched up before you leave."

"Leave it, old man," Camus says in a teasing, yet warning tone.

"If he can—"

Camus holds his pointer finger up to my lips, and with his left hand he brings my hand to his mouth. He places soft kisses on my knuckles and gives me a warning smile. "I said I'm fine."

With a pout I say, "Okay. But you're not getting any if you're injured. Not tonight anyway."

"Why? Do you want to tend to my injuries? Make me feel better? Comfort me?" he teases.

With one last sideways glance, I gently smack him in the hip with the back of my hand. But I do want to tend to his injuries. I want nothing more than to make sure he's okay, and that irritates me.

"This is going to hurt," Sterling's voice interrupts my annoyance. He has clipped the fletching and the arrowhead off of the shaft. He reaches onto the tray and picks up a piece of leather that is about five inches long and about an inch thick. "Bite down on this."

I take it from him and put it in my mouth. I can't imagine how bad this will actually hurt. The tinctures he's poured over the wound have done a fine job of numbing the area.

Camus sighs and takes my free hand. Sterling stands and places my left hand face down on my knee so the shaft of the arrow isn't touching anything. Then he places his left hand on mine, and with his right hand he grasps the wood and pulls. In one swift motion the arrowhead is out, and I'm biting down on the leather with so much force that my teeth might shatter.

He takes a piece of gauze like material he had wadded up and coated in an ointment and shoves it into the hole on the underside of my arm. A tear slips down my cheek just out of Camus' view and Sterling glances up, pity in his eyes.

"You can take the leather out now, lass. Now that I've got the wound open I can numb the inside, and prevent any more pain of that intensity. And it's okay to cry. The fae royals would fall over dead if they dealt with half the pain you just endured."

He's just being nice, but it helps me feel better all the same. I pull the leather out of my mouth, and Camus gently grabs my chin and forces me to look at him.

"You're strong. You've got this. And I'm right here with you every step of the way."

About thirty more minutes of stitching and cleaning, and removing all the debris, my arm is repaired enough that I can at least somewhat function. Much like my first day in Feldorn, I'm sent off with an arm full of tinctures and ointments and strict instructions from the royal healer to not get any more injuries.

"Should we take these to the dungeon?" I ask Camus about the medicines as we step out of the infirmary.

"Absolutely not. You're not staying down there and risking an infection. It's a cesspool in there. You'll be staying in my room until you're well. And even then, I'm not sure I'm letting you go back down there."

"Camus..." I start to protest.

"I won't hear another word about it. I won't allow you to get sick because of this absurd training that I'm responsible for enlisting you in in the first place."

"You feel responsible." It's a statement, and observation.

"I am responsible," he says, hints of sorrow in his voice.

I don't argue with him. Overall, Cyndair is to blame. But Camus, Zorvan, Nev, and even me; we're all a little bit to blame as well.

We reach his quarters and he opens the door for me. He shuts the door behind him and locks it.

"Strip. Now." His voice is commanding, leaving little room for argument. He steps into the bathroom and lights the coals for his bath before returning and watching me.

I set the medicines down on his dresser and kick my boots off on to the floor. Ursa is probably having a heart attack over them not being in their proper place. I reach for the hem of my shirt and try to pull it over my head, but I hiss in pain as I tug on the form-fitting leather.

Camus sighs and approaches. "Let me help," he says and pulls my shirt up over my head before discarding it on the floor. Then he pushes my pants down and holds out his forearm to help me stabilize myself while I kick them off.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

I follow him into the bathroom, and stare at him impatiently, waiting for him to get naked. His fingers move to his buttons and makes quick work undoing each one before shucking it to the floor. His pants quickly follow.

"I wish you would have let Sterling heal your bruises," I say, trailing my fingers down his bare, chest.

"Are you worried about me, love?" he teases, wrapping me in his arms and kissing the top of my head.

"I just don't understand why you refused."

"I felt that should have been obvious," he says, with a furrowed brow and a frown on his lips.

"Well, apparently I'm dense, because I can't see any good reason for it."

He cups my cheek with his hand and pushes up on my chin with his thumb, forcing me to look into his hazel eyes. "I couldn't possibly let him heal me while my mate suffers in pain. If you're going to linger in it, then so am I. Your pain is also mine to bear, and if I had let him heal me, I would have been sick with guilt. You do not deserve to hurt like this. This is my penance for all the hurt I've caused you."

"As sweet as that gesture is, it'll take more than a bruise to make up for the shit you've put me through."

He stares down at me for long seconds then finally concedes, "Fine. Consider it a down payment on my remorse. Now let's get the blood off of you and get you ready to cook me dinner."

As I wade into the water, I call over my shoulder, "You don't have to pretend to like what I cook for you, by the way. I'm not a bad cook, but once again I'm at a disadvantage with these ingredients I've never prepared before."

"You'll have the kitchen staff there to answer your questions," he reassures me.

"They've probably been instructed to hinder my progress at every opportunity," I deadpan. "How long do I have before I need to get down there?"

"Long enough," he murmurs into my hair before grabbing the soaps and beginning to wash me.

"All that time and effort into doing my hair and makeup this morning and what good was it?"

"You looked the role of a proper fae royal."

"Did that please you, Prince Camus?" I ask sardonically.

"Not in the least. I much preferred your appearance when you came marching out of the woods, covered in dirt and blood. You looked just as feral as my grandmother believes you to be."

He spins me to face him. "Once your training is done, and we're out of this place, I'm taking you out into those woods and hunting you."

My mouth pops open and I suck in a small breath. I can't help the way my thighs clench together, and the increase in my heart rate. The smirk on Camus' face tells me he picked up on my arousal, but he doesn't comment. He just kisses me on the nose, and begins washing the blood from my hair and face.

"It hardly seems fair that you would hunt me when you're already faster and stronger than me, even without magic."

"And it hardly seems fair that you would prance around here looking and smelling so fucking good when we don't have the time to do anything about it." He finishes rinsing my hair and body with one last pitcher of water. "Let's go. You've got some cooking to do."

He steps out of the bath and grabs two towels, then hands one to me as I follow him. Just as I'm wrapping my towel around myself, there's a knock at the door to his quarters.