Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

"Dinner is almost ready," Brandle said. "Sit. Let Eadric try his hands at fixing your hair. He hasn't braided anything in years."

While the stew simmered, Eadric very patiently worked the tangles from my hair. He didn't pull my scalp once as he clumsily attempted a braid. The others watched him closely, poking at his efforts with good-natured comments.

"Please, Princess, I beg you. Let me have a go. I cannot allow you to walk around like that. You look…recently bedded."

I could hear a scuffle behind me.

"He's right that it doesn't look neat," Eadric said. "I apologize."

I patted his hand and caught Liam's expression. It was a mixture of sadness and curiosity, and Brandle's words rang in my head. Before I'd arrived, they'd had nothing to look forward to each day. Could braiding my hair truly be that exciting?

"Liam," I said, holding out the comb. "Let's see if you can do better."

His face lit with anticipation, and Daemon good-naturedly patted his shoulder as he moved toward me. With the hope glinting in all their gazes, I knew they would each want a turn.

Liam's braid wasn't much improved. Garron spent more time combing my hair than attempting to weave it. Edmund waved away his turn. Daemon grinned and elbowed Darian when I called him over for his turn.

"The last thing I braided was rope," he said, smoothing the comb through my hair. "The stiff coarseness helped it stay where I placed it. Your hair slides everywhere."

"Is that why you're running it through your fingers?" Brandle asked.

I could feel Daemon's fingers gently stroking my hair, lending truth to Brandle's words.

"Focus, Daemon," I said.

"Let's have a wager," Darian said. "Whoever provides the tightest braid will be the one to help with our Princess's hair until her hands are better."

"No, thank you," I said.

"Come now, Princess," Darian coaxed.

"I see no advantage to me to allow any of you those liberties."

"While the winner grooms your hair, we will each tell you one thing we've observed in Adele," Brandle said.

Curse the man for offering something I couldn't refuse.

"Each one of you?" I asked, looking at Edmund. He held my gaze and nodded once.

I considered him. His hands were relaxed, and his expression was neutral. Even his eyes were clear.

"So be it," I said.

Daemon stopped playing with my hair and attempted his braid. It was better than the others, but still not very tight.

Darian took the comb from him and unwound the strands. His fingers nimbly twisted the sections while managing to caress my skin often. I reached back to feel the braid and found it to be the best so far.

"I sincerely hope you can braid better, Brandle," I said. "Or my neck will be accosted by Darian's fingers every morning."

Darian tugged my braid from my hold.

"Accosted? You wound me deeply, Princess. I was but checking for a fever."

Brandle snorted and nudged his brother aside.

"I vow not to disappoint you. I've had years more practice."

"You braid women's hair regularly?" I asked. "Perhaps I will be safer with Darian."

Several of the others sniggered.

Brandle said nothing as he deftly braided my hair without caressing my neck. The end result was the same as Darian's.

"I declare you the winner, then," I said.

"I did just as well," Darian said.

"Brandle kept his hands to himself, which places him ahead."

Darian opened his mouth to argue more, but Edmund cut him off.

"I haven't had my chance."

"You?" Liam said, sounding surprised.

I turned to look at Edmund again.

"Is this how you plan to vent your anger then? Tug my hair? Meaner boys than you have already done so, and I've survived. By my leave, do your best."

I faced the table again and waited. He didn't comb my hair first but re-braided it quickly and snuggly in a braid as tight as any I could make.

Darian groaned. "How?"

"Where you played with my hair and worried about tugging the strands, Edmund did not," I said.

"And he didn't hurt me," I quickly added when Garron shot him a dark look. "Now let's eat."

The stew was delicious and tender. As were the biscuits. When everyone finished, Edmund and Garron carried the dishes away to wash, and Liam and Eadric appeared from around back with my mattress, which had been missing since I'd left it this morning.

"Thank you," I said.

However, instead of carrying it inside, they set it on the table.

"No," I said.

"Yes," Brandle said.

I looked at him sharply.

"Please," he added.

"Why?"

He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "He's at the edge of the clearing. I believe he will try one more time before giving up. But it's safer for us to watch over you out here than in there."

I held Brandle's gaze. "I sleep alone, then."

He nodded once.

I went to sit by the fire and contemplated the problem of the tracker as they quietly conversed during their preparation for bed. If the tracker returned to Maeve without me, what would happen to Eloise? What would happen to my twin if he didn't survive the forest?

Brandle sat next to me.

"Are you not tired?" he asked quietly.

"My thoughts are troubled. I worry for my sister and wonder what torment she will feel if the tracker does not return with news of me. Will she think I've perished like we believed my father had?"

Brandle leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees as he stared into the flames.

"I hesitate to allow him to leave after seeing this place. I considered ensuring he couldn't. However, I had the same troubled thoughts as you. I see how much you care for your sister and don't wish any anguish upon her. Yet, I also have no wish for him to return to try again."

"In that, we agree," I said.

"Would you like to send a message with him?" he asked.

"No. My sister will know that I'm alive for now, and that is enough."

"Very well. We'll ensure he returns with vague news of you, then, and will say nothing on your behalf. You should rest while you're able. I believe our unwanted guest will not let the night pass quietly."

Without the warmth of the fire, I felt the night chill through my shift as I removed my slippers and got into my makeshift bed. I looked beyond the fire at the hanging beds and found seven sets of eyes on me.

"Sleep well, my fierce handmaidens," I said.

Eadric hooted with laughter as I closed my eyes and hid my amusement with my blanket.

It felt as if I'd only fallen asleep when I heard a scuffle near the back of the cottage.

"Stay as you are," Liam said softly near my head. "He believes we're sleeping and is attempting to subdue Garron during a visit to the privy. Keep your eyes closed and your hands under those blankets. We'll exhaust the herbed honey if you keep injuring them."

"Your mouth runs like a river," Daemon said. "Hush."

They quieted just as the sounds from the other side of the cottage stopped.

Someone patted my shoulder a breath before I heard a scuff of a boot against dirt nearby. The tracker was coming. But why? I hadn't gone quietly during either of the previous attempts. How did he think he would be able to leave these trees with me now? Did he believe I would sleep through my kidnapping?

"You dare step into our glade again?" Brandle said lowly. "This is our home, and we will defend it with our lives."

The sound of fists hitting flesh echoed around me.

I knew my handmaidens didn't wish for me to watch, but I wanted to know what was happening. So I peeked through my lashes and saw Brandle fighting a man several heads taller than himself. He moved agilely, dodging blows and landing his own on the tracker's ribs in rapid succession.

The weak moonlight glinted off the metal in the tracker's hand, and I realized why Brandle was dodging blows so earnestly. The man had a knife.

My eyes went wide as Brandle swung upward, hitting the man under the jaw with enough force to snap his head back. The tracker staggered backward. Garron quickly got down on his hands and knees. The man tripped over him and landed hard on his back. Garron bounded to his feet and kicked the tracker in the sides with a level of violence I struggled to associate with the quiet man.

Liam flipped the blanket over my eyes.

"Enough, Garron," he said, no longer quiet.

"Let's remove him," I heard Brandle say. "He's unlikely to make another attempt now."

I tried to remove the blanket, but Liam tugged it back into place.

"I have no wish to be smothered," I said.

"Sorry, Lamb," Daemon said. "Garron was stuck and removed his shirt for Brandle to look. They need the firelight. If you wait a?—"

I flipped back the blankets and sat up. Garron stood near the fire with his back to me. Brandle was bent forward as he examined Garron's side. Liam wasn't fast enough to stop me from getting out of bed and closing the distance between us.

"How deep is it?" I asked, coming around to look for myself.

The gash glistened wetly over Garron's ribs.

"Not deep," Brandle said. "The bone stopped it."

"Edmund, fetch the needle and thread Liam was trying to use earlier. Darian, get a fresh pail of water. Daemon, this fire needs to blaze," I said rapidly.

"It will take more than this cut to bring me low, Kellen," Garron said softly. "Please do not fret."

"Fret? I don't fret, Garron. I contemplate scenarios and react appropriately. The cut might not bring you low, but the resulting infection likely will. We need to clean and close the wound properly. From the looks of the scars already gracing your skin, not all your wounds have been."

"Here's the water," Daemon said.

"Get the tea kettle from inside. The water will boil faster in it."

They all moved to do as I said. Brandle heated the needle in the coals while the thread boiled in the water. Garron remained silent as I cleaned the wound. Brandle insisted on stitching it himself, though.

"I'd rather he curse me than you," he said when I tried to deny him.

So I held Garron's hand and rubbed my fingers over his skin to give what comfort I could.

"Think he let himself get stuck on purpose?"

The quiet whisper had me narrowing my eyes on the brothers watching. Each one gave me their most innocent expression.

"I know it was you, Daemon," I said. "I suggest you remain silent, or I'll ask Brandle to sew your mouth closed next."

"Yes, Lamb," he said contritely.

After closing the wound, Brandle snapped the thread off then carefully coiled a long strip of clean cloth around Garron's torso to cover his work.

"Finished." Brandle straightened away and clapped Garron lightly on the shoulder. Edmund thrust a clean shirt over his brother's head and helped him thread his arms through without lifting them too high on his injured side.

"Thank you," Garron said.

I reclaimed Garron's hand. "Come. You can't climb into your swinging bed while stitched together. You can lie with me."

He didn't argue as I led him to the bed. He started to bend to remove his boots.

"No. Not you." I looked at my hands.

"I'll help," Liam said. He removed Garron's boots and lent his arm to help his brother lay back without strain.

I moved to cover him, and Garron shook his head.

" With you, or I take my own bed. I won't steal yours."

I let out a sigh, crawled in beside him, and lay on my back to view the stars above. The table and mattress were barely wide enough to accommodate us side by side. It made sense that I'd half-lain on Darian the previous night.

"Never in my life had I thought I would ever sleep beside more than a single man," I said under my breath as Liam covered us.

Garron chuckled. "Never in my life did I think I would sleep beside anyone other than my brothers."

"Fair. Does your side hurt?"

"The sting of the blade lingers, but it is bearable."

"Should we apply some of the honey tincture?"

"No need."

I rolled toward him to study his profile. No pain showed in his expression.

"Will you be able to sleep?"

His lips twitched as he glanced at me. "Not if you keep speaking."

"I should have sewn you myself."

His teeth flashed in a smile, and he closed his eyes.

"I think I'll sleep well, Kellen. Goodnight."

"Does anyone want to stick me?" Darian asked from his swinging bed.

I closed my eyes and ignored the lot of them.

A few moments later, I felt Garron move beside me. His fingers lightly danced over my hair. Understanding he did so to distract himself, I let him be.

Slowly, he lulled me, and on the cusp of sleep, I moved closer and set my hand on his chest just over his heart.

"My life isn't worth yours, Garron. Never forget that."

I woke much like I had the day before, with my leg over another set of legs and my cheek pillowed on a heavily muscled chest. The difference, however, was in the absolute silence of the glade and Garron's steady, even breaths.

The logical side of me said I should quietly remove myself before he woke. The emotional side wanted me to remain as I was, and it provided many reasons to do so. Garron needed rest to heal. No one else was yet awake. They'd sacrificed sleep to keep me safe. I should let them all rest and remain as I was.

I knew I shouldn't stay. Yet, that softer, weaker side of me won.

Moving my cheek slightly, I nuzzled into Garron's warmth and reveled in the feeling of having someone strong and capable beside me. I moved my hand and realized it wasn't over his shirt but under it. My fingers trailed lightly over his left side, tracing his undamaged skin.

He caught my hand in his, stopping my exploration.

I lifted my head to look at him and found him awake and watching me, a flush coloring his cheeks. The apology I'd been about to utter evaporated. I gently tugged my hand free to touch my fingers to his forehead.

He caught my hand again.

"I'm fine, Kellen."

A nearby snort drew my attention to the brothers who were idling around the fire. Each one was watching us.

I tugged my hand free and removed myself from the bed. They said nothing as I put on my slippers and walked away. When I reached the privy, I paused and looked at Eadric, who had followed to help me with the door.

His smile was slightly sad.

"Why did no one wake me?"

"You looked peaceful."

"I looked wanton, Eadric."

"We thought you looked pretty."

"And viewing a pretty woman makes you sad?"

He looked away for a moment, and I knew he was searching for the right words rather than scanning the trees as he appeared to be doing. When he looked at me, I saw the same thing in his gaze that I'd glimpsed in Brandle and Garron.

"Only you can make me this sad, Kellen. Though I've had the pleasure of knowing you a scant number of days, the idea of continuing our lives in this glade without you strikes me with deep sadness. For I know you mean to leave us."

Where the others had sent me running with their look of interest, I couldn't run from Eadric. Not with those heartfelt words lingering between us. So I stepped closer and placed my bandaged palm on his cheek.

"The thought of leaving this glade fills me with sadness, too," I admitted. "If I had a choice?—"

I shook my head, denying the thought of how I would choose to stay if I could. What of my sister? My twin and other half?

I turned away, and he opened the door without comment regarding my sudden withdrawal.

When I emerged again, Brandle was there with the honey and fresh bandages.

"Do they hurt?" he asked.

"Mildly."

"We can wash them at the well and re-bandage them. Or, if you wish, we have a copper tub. You can bathe in the cottage, and we can bandage them after you're finished."

"A real bath?" I asked, hopeful.

He nodded once, watching me warily once more. Did he believe I would strike him for the suggestion? Never. The buckets Daemon had emptied over my head at the well made my scalp itchy, and their attempts at re-braiding my hair had only intensified the growing need to wash it.

"A real bath sounds lovely. Thank you, Brandle."

"It's ready for you, then."

Slightly surprised, I hurried around to the cottage and found the copper tub sitting in front of the lit hearth. A stool sat near it with a sliver of soap and a small stack of towels on top.

"Call out if you need anything," he said before shutting me in.

Someone had thoughtfully covered the windows with a light cloth so I had complete privacy. I stripped out of my shift and eased into the hot water with a sigh. Rather than enjoy the heat idly, I reached back and carefully unwound my braid before ducking under the water.

My hands protested as I curled my fingers to scrub at my scalp, and I reemerged with a wince. I stared at the soaked wraps and debated the wisdom of attempting to soap my hair.

Frustrated, I watched the wisps of steam swirl up from the water. Such a waste. While I slept, they'd hauled water and boiled it. They likely also ensured it wasn't too hot and set out everything I could need.

I hit the water with a splash that made my palm throb and my skin tingle dangerously.

"Kellen? Are you all right?" Brandle asked.

After a few focused breaths, I admitted the truth.

"I'm struggling with frustration over my limitations and am debating the wisdom of washing my hair. I think it will only set back my healing. You wasted your efforts, and I am sincerely sorry for that."

"Cover yourself with a towel. Edmund will come in to assist."

"What?" I turned to look at the door in disbelief. "No. Do not?—"

The door started to open, and I scrambled forward to grab a towel to cover myself.

"For the sake of both our sanities, do not turn around, Kellen," Edmund said.

"For the sake of mine, please leave."

"Would you prefer another?"

"I would prefer myself, you dolt."

He chuckled slightly. "I think that's the first time I heard you raise your voice."

Curse the man; he was right.

His hands closed over my hair, lifting it away from my bare back as I clutched the cloth to my chest.

"Lean back and sit lower in the water so your head hangs over the edge. I have another bucket to catch the rinse water. Keep your eyes closed."

I made a face and did as he asked, preferring not to know how he was looking at me. His hands felt huge on my head as he briskly worked the soap into my scalp. His ministrations and the hot water slowly drew the tension from my body. He rinsed my hair with scoops of water from another bucket, which had already begun to cool.

"I think I removed all the soap. You may want to dunk under again, though."

"Thank you, Edmund," I said.

I didn't hear him move closer and was startled when his next words were spoken close to my ear.

"Eadric told us what you said. If you leave, don't ever come back. They would never survive a second abandonment."

My heart beat heavily as his footfalls retreated, and the door closed. I dunked under the water as his words echoed in my head.

Abandonment. Is that how they viewed my leaving? That I was abandoning them? They didn't know me, nor did I know them. They hadn't welcomed my arrival but now would mourn my departure? It made little sense.

Yet, I felt the same about leaving them.

It was no longer something I looked forward to doing.