CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gantalla woke slowly the next morning. She was warm and comfortable, the pillow soft beneath her cheek, threads of sunlight creeping in around the curtain. Her body felt lethargic, and it was hardly a surprise. She’d been awake half the night trying to figure out what in the world she was supposed to do next.

She couldn’t go on sleeping in Nalyx’s room, not with the whole town taking such a close interest in who was sleeping with whom. And she still wanted to get away from the gate and the warriors. But as she’d known right from the start, she had a limited number of choices here. The offer to give her work at the hospital had been a surprise, but it was a practical solution. It would not only solve the problem of earning her some money, but it would also give her a purpose. It would allow her to learn a new skill, and in addition to the pure practicality of that, the idea soothed her battered pride. She could be worth something beyond being a pretty accessory for a celebrity husband. Odd how she’d never considered that to be important back in Chalandros. And, of course, there was the other point to consider, which was that even if she did leave town, she’d still have to deal with humans in whichever town she ended up in. And she’d have to find work, which could well end up being far more difficult to secure the second time around, if she turned down this opportunity.

But staying in town meant continuing to have to deal with Hallix and Fin and half a dozen other people who all seemed to think that she and Hallix were made for each other. And since actually forming some sort of romance with Nalyx seemed to be an equally bad idea, the practical reality was that her tentative friendship with him wasn’t likely to help her out of this potentially sticky situation.

But she still needed money and a place to stay.

After having the thoughts swirl around in her head for a couple of hours, Gantalla finally realised that she had to make a decision, one way or another. And in the end, the thing that allowed her to make a choice was the sudden insight that any decision she made now didn’t have to be her final one. She could try the job at the hospital, learn as much as she could, and if Hallix became too unbearable, she could always leave town later.

A sigh escaped her body as a weight seemed to lift from her. Fine. The decision was made. She would go back to the hospital in the morning and start earning some money, and talk to the other nurses about accommodation options, and then just take it one day at a time.

Relieved to finally have a plan, she’d fallen back asleep. But as Gantalla looked around now, she realised she’d woken up late, if the strength of the sunlight outside was any indication. She sat bolt upright in bed… before realising that she didn’t actually have anywhere to be with any urgency. Yes, she needed to get to the hospital, but she hadn’t yet officially accepted the job, so they wouldn’t be expecting her at any particular time.

Beside her, Nalyx’s breath hitched and his body tensed, and Gantalla froze, having temporarily forgotten about her bed companion. Her very naked bed companion. The sheets had slipped down to his waist, revealing a chest and biceps that could have been carved from granite.

But Nalyx sighed and settled down again without waking, and Gantalla sat there, contemplating her very odd feelings towards this man.

He was a lout. If he hadn’t been injured, he’d have been drinking and flirting and sleeping with as many women as he could manage, just like all the other warriors. She didn’t like the idea that he was only showing her his decent side because of a certain desperation. He’d realised he needed help, that much was certain, and he was perhaps just going out of his way to not annoy her because she was the only one who seemed willing to do the job.

But watching him now, his face peaceful in the faint light of morning, he seemed… vulnerable. His dark hair and rough stubble lent him a roguish air, but beneath that, he’d routinely displayed a sense of decency that the other warriors Gantalla had met had lacked.

So perhaps he wasn’t a lost cause after all? Maybe this episode would teach him something, and he’d come out the other end a better person, having learned patience and a little more compassion and…

And what? And he would magically turn into decent husband material? What sort of fantasies was she entertaining here? He was still a murderer, and there was nothing to indicate that he was suddenly going to quit being a warrior overnight.

Deciding that this was a conundrum that was going to have to wait for another day, Gantalla slipped quietly out of bed. She dressed quickly then went in search of some breakfast. Out in the square, there was still food left over on the tables, so she quickly rounded up some bread, a couple of small, sweet cakes – somewhat stale now, but still edible – and… Yes! Apples! Gantalla remembered those from the first night she’d been at the festival, and she balanced two whole ones on the side of the plate.

As she let herself back into Nalyx’s room, Nalyx woke up, peering at her blearily as she closed the door. “Breakfast,” she explained shortly, before sitting down and feeding him, while she ate her own share of the food along the way.

“I’ve been offered a job at the hospital,” Gantalla told him, once they’d exchanged the usual pleasantries of ‘Good morning’ and ‘Did you sleep well?’. “They want to train me to be a nurse.”

Nalyx grinned at the news. “I think you’d be a fantastic nurse,” he said, once he’d swallowed his mouthful. “You’ve been taking damn good care of me. Do the same for your patients there, and they’d have nothing to complain about.”

The praise warmed her unexpectedly. There was no reason she should be overly concerned about what Nalyx thought, but for some reason, his approval made her flush.

But then he continued, “So does this mean I won’t be enjoying any more of your company in lacy blouses, then?” He glanced pointedly at her chest as he said it, managing to look somehow forlorn, but Gantalla was accustomed enough to his flirting by now that she needn’t bother taking offence.

“That blouse should be burned in a large bonfire,” she said sternly, though she couldn’t help smiling as she said it. But then she added, more seriously, “I will come back to the festival tonight, though. To make sure you get something to eat, if nothing else. Will you be okay for the rest of the day?”

Nalyx nodded. “I’ll find something to keep me busy. You go ahead. Enjoy yourself.” But then he glanced over at his trousers, lying on the back of the chair. “If it’s not too much to ask, though, I’d be grateful if you could help me get dressed before you go?”

“Of course.”

They finished the meal quickly, then Gantalla set the plates aside and fetched Nalyx’s clothes. Getting the trousers back on turned out to be notably more difficult than taking them off. His right foot got caught as he tried to slide it into the leg of the pants, and he very nearly tumbled backwards onto the bed. He grabbed onto Gantalla’s shoulder, then swore as he jarred his burned hand. They both apologised, then had another go, more slowly this time.

A brief amount of cursing and wriggling later and his foot was free, and then Gantalla tugged the pants up to his waist. She’d never had to dress anyone else before, not even any of her nieces or nephews, and she was somewhat dismayed to realise it was harder than it looked. No doubt helping patients dress in the hospital was one of the tasks of the nurses, and she hated the idea of looking so inept in front of her colleagues there.

But when she came to do the pants up, she faced a new problem. Nalyx’s erection was back in full force. It shouldn’t be a surprise, she counselled herself, as she felt her face heat. It was morning. He hadn’t had any female company in the last few days. And he was obviously a very virile sort of man. It was just one of those things that happened.

And yet, she still had no idea what to do about it.

Nalyx looked at the ceiling and sighed. “Sorry,” he breathed, sounding thoroughly frustrated. “Can you just… tuck it down, or something?”

Gantalla did so hastily, pulling the sides of his trousers closed and doing up the buttons quickly. Then she helped him slide his arms into his shirt and secured the sling around his injured arm. By the time she knelt down to lace up his boots, the bulge in his pants had returned to its normal size, and neither of them said anything more about it.

“All set, then?” Gantalla asked, standing up.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Nalyx said, sounding unexpectedly solemn about it. “I realise that being a serving woman isn’t for you, but you’re always welcome here.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Impulsively, she kissed him on the cheek, then let herself out of the room.

She crossed the courtyard quickly, hoping to avoid any of the other warriors – and Hallix in particular – then made her way through the square. There were several more warriors passed out in various corners, and a handful of serving women were awake by now, cleaning up the plates and cups from the night before.

Inside the hospital, she went to the reception desk. “Good morning,” she greeted the nurse behind the counter. “I’m Gantalla. I’m sorry, I don’t think I saw you yesterday, but I was-”

The woman leapt up, clapping her hands in delight. “Gods above, you’re the one who saved that boy’s life! Henrietta told me all about it this morning. The whole hospital’s talking about you.”

Gantalla couldn’t help but smile. “I was fortunate to have a good teacher,” she said, not to diminish her own achievements, but because her father had taught her the importance of giving credit where it was due. A king could not rule a kingdom alone, he’d said on a regular basis, and showing appreciation to those who supported them was a vital step in maintaining a strong and stable nation. “Henrietta said I could come back if I was interested. Apparently you’re looking for a new nurse.”

The woman grinned. “Fantastic. I’m Nanta, by the way. Come through and I’ll show you around.”

The morning passed reasonably quickly, with Gantalla trailing Henrietta as she treated patients. There was an old man with a burn on his arm from a cooking pot that had overturned, a woman who’d sprained her ankle falling down a step, and a child who’d been kicked by a horse. The doctor was called in to assess the child’s wound, though in the end, he’d declared that the boy was only bruised and nothing was broken. Then there was an elderly lady with a severe cough, who was sent away with a herbal tonic, and a woman with an infected cut. Gantalla paid close attention as the doctor cleaned away the puss and opened the wound further so that it could drain, then Henrietta prepared a poultice of meadowsweet and echinacea.

In the afternoon, Henrietta took Gantalla to one of the offices, sitting her down with a stack of books all about poisons and toxins. “Can you read?” she asked, her tone slightly diffident. The question seemed an honest one, with no hint of judgement in it, lest the answer be no. Presumably, then, reading was fairly common here in the human world, though not a universal skill.

“Um… reasonably well,” Gantalla said. She’d had a look at a number of signposts and the names of shops around the square, and while the human script was a little different from the one she’d grown up with, it was similar enough that she could understand most of the words. They seemed to have a couple of extra characters and drew the ‘s’ and the ‘g’ a little differently, but with a bit of practice, she was sure she’d get the hang of it.

“Excellent. Well, how about you start with this one,” Henrietta said, handing her a book with a large mushroom drawn on the front. “There are lots of people who gather mushrooms in the forests, and every now and then, we get someone coming in who’s picked the wrong type. The really poisonous ones are fairly obvious, but there are a few that are more easy to confuse. Vomiting is always the most obvious symptom, but some of them can cause a few other problems, as well.”

Gantalla nodded and studiously applied herself to the books. It was a topic she quickly found fascinating. Aside from the obvious need to know what might have poisoned a patient, there was also plenty of useful information about how to identify edible mushrooms, which could be invaluable if Gantalla wanted to venture out and try to find her own food. Mushrooms had once been abundant in Chalandros, and some of the varieties looked familiar. There was orange-ear, which was poisonous raw, but edible when cooked. There was ghost fingers, a long, thin type that only grew for a few weeks in autumn, once the heat of the summer had passed, and as the name suggested, it was deadly. King’s plate was a huge mushroom, brown with white spots, the cap growing to over a foot wide, which was a favourite for its nutty flavour.

One variety of particular interest was the red cap. It was a medium-sized mushroom, edible, with a strong, earthy flavour, but the reason this one was so interesting was that it was almost indistinguishable from the purple cap. Despite the names, they both had a cap that could be anything from reddish brown through to bright orange-red, but the purple cap was poisonous, causing vomiting, fever and muscle weakness. The only real difference was that the purple cap had a subtle frill hanging down from the rim of the cap, but it was small enough that someone not looking carefully – or someone without adequate experience – would miss the tell tale sign of danger. According to the book, a few dozen people from the town managed to poison themselves every year.

“Gantalla?” A voice interrupted her study, and she looked up, seeing Henrietta in the doorway. “How are you going? Not too bored, I hope?”

“Bored? No, not at all,” Gantalla said, with genuine enthusiasm. “You have a wonderful collection of books.” Back at home, the palace had had a large library, but it was rare for commoners to have more than one or two books in their entire house.

“I was just coming to tell you it’s nearly six o’clock. The day nurses normally finish about now and the night nurses take over. Just to look after anyone who needs to spend the night.”

Gantalla looked out the window in surprise. She’d lost track of time, but sure enough, the light outside was fading, and before too long, night would set in.

Henrietta fumbled in her pocket, pulling out a handful of coins and handing them to Gantalla. “Normally we’re paid once a week, but for the first few days, the doctor said to pay you at the end of the day. You said you’d been on the road for a while, and we weren’t sure if you were short of coin.” Earlier in the day, Gantalla had repeated her fabricated story about traveling to see her brother, in response to the nosy but well-intentioned curiosity of a couple of the younger nurses.

“Thank you. That’s very kind,” Gantalla said, taking the coins. “To be honest, I spent most of my money getting this far.”

“Are you still planning on heading to Palashran?” Henrietta asked the question hesitantly, as if fearful of the answer.

Gantalla smiled. “Actually, I might stick around for a bit longer. I think I could learn to like it here.” After a little early suspicion, the nurses had been friendly and polite, and Gantalla could see herself becoming fast friends with both Nanta and Henrietta. Gosta, the oldest nurse, was still a bit standoffish, impatient with Gantalla’s lack of experience, but Henrietta had assured her that Gosta was that way with everyone. Meanwhile, Rachael, one of the younger nurses, had scoffed at first when she’d heard that Gantalla was from Gadash – a slow and backwards town, according to the opinionated woman – but she’d warmed up when she’d seen that Gantalla was willing to work hard.

Henrietta broke into a wide grin. “I’m so glad to hear it. Are you going back to the festival tonight? Sven and Roberto will be playing the drums, and by the gods, that’s a performance worth seeing.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Gantalla said, her smile genuine, despite the thread of trepidation she felt. There was a chance Hallix would try to corner her again, despite her clear indication that she wasn’t interested, but she resolved to simply be firm about her refusal. Turning down the attentions of a warrior still seemed to be a significant faux pas, with even the nurses spouting copious praise of the muscular men, but she reasoned she had a solid excuse – namely, spending time with Nalyx. After all, she was only choosing one warrior over another, not rejecting the lot of them outright.

◊          ◊          ◊

“Nalyx! There you are. I was beginning to think you’d died of that bloody scratch on your arm.” Calium grinned at Nalyx as he caught sight of him, making his way through a throng of men to greet him. Calium hugged him, slapping him on the back, but he was careful to avoid jarring Nalyx’s injured shoulder. All of the warriors had been injured at some point in time – all but the youngest, and for them, it was only a matter of time – and they had a far better understanding of the consequences of torn stitches or delayed healing than any of the townsfolk ever would. Aside from anything else, a poorly healed wound could be a risk to their lives once the gate opened again.

“Here, let me get you something to drink. Beer? Or whisky?”

“Do you really need me to answer that?” Nalyx asked, and Calium laughed.

“Bloody predictable, that’s what you are.”

Nalyx shrugged with deliberate nonchalance. “I’ve been called worse.”

Calium snorted. “I don’t doubt it. Wait here. I’ll be back in a second.” He darted off, returning a moment later with a cup of the potent liquid, holding it out so that Nalyx could wrap his bandaged hands around the cup.

“So what’s this I hear about you and the new girl?” Calium asked. “Long black hair? A face that could have been sculpted by the gods themselves?”

“Ah, fuck…” What was he supposed to say to that? “It’s still a wait and see,” he said, after a moment of floundering. “She’s a fine woman, but I wouldn’t be placing bets on anything just yet.”

“That’s too bad. I wouldn’t mind tapping that, if she was a few years younger.”

“You keep your bloody hands to yourself,” Nalyx said, though there was no real venom in his words. Calium was a good friend, and he wouldn’t deliberately go after a woman who notionally belonged to someone else.

“Point taken. But speak of the devil,” Calium said, looking at something over Nalyx’s shoulder, and he turned to see Gantalla crossing the square towards them. She looked tired but happy, and Nalyx grinned as she arrived at his side.

“How did you go at the hospital?”

Gantalla smiled. “I think my brain’s about to explode. There’s so much to learn. But it’s all fascinating. I had a wonderful day.”

“Glad to hear it. By the way, this is Calium,” Nalyx introduced her. “Don’t let the pretty boy look fool you. He’s young, but he’s saved my life more than once, and he’s one of the finest warriors in the army. Not that you heard that from me,” he added, winking at Calium. “Too much praise is likely to go to his head.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Calium said, with a quirk of his eyebrow as he looked Gantalla up and down. “Though I’m sure Nalyx has quite thoroughly introduced you to that concept.”

Nalyx felt his face flush. But it was from more than just embarrassment that he actually hadn’t been showing Gantalla the pleasures of knowing a warrior. She’d made it clear she didn’t appreciate the overt attempts at seduction from the rest of the warriors, and he wondered how she’d react to Calium.

To his relief, Gantalla laughed. “Well, so far, I’ve seen that his ego is bigger than his… sword. But his shoulder will heal, given time, so I’m willing to overlook that for now.”

Calium gave a hearty laugh, slapping Nalyx on the back again. “Now there’s a woman with a way with words. I dare say you’re going to have your hands full with this one.”

“Looks like the performance is about to start,” Gantalla said, turning her attention to the nearby stage. “I have it on good advice that this is going to be a sight worth seeing.”

“You’ve got that right,” Calium said. “Best drummers in the entire city. Come on. Let’s find some seats before all the good spots are taken.”

An hour and a half later, Nalyx accepted the latest offering of meat from Gantalla’s fork, moaning in pleasure at the taste of the rich gravy. “Boris outdid himself tonight,” he said, around his mouthful. “Damn, that’s a good roast.” The drummers had given a lively performance, earning thunderous applause from the crowd, then they’d all settled in for a good meal. But Nalyx was slower at eating than the rest of them, and now, Calium and a few of his buddies had wandered off to see which of the ladies they could tempt to join them for the evening, leaving Nalyx alone with Gantalla.

“Maybe this is a silly question,” Gantalla said, “but… what is this?” She nudged the remains of a mushy pile on the plate.

“That’s quiche,” Nalyx said. “Essentially, it’s onion and mushrooms, drowned in a puddle of eggs and cheese, and then baked in a hot oven. You don’t have that in Gadash?”

“No, I haven’t seen it before.”

“Have you tasted it?” Gantalla shook her head. “Try it, then,” Nalyx prompted her. “It doesn’t match up to the roast, but it’s still pretty good.”

Hesitantly, she took a small forkful. Nalyx tried not to watch as the fork disappeared between her lips, an image appearing unbidden in his mind of what her mouth would look like wrapped around a particular part of his anatomy. Then she smiled, her eyes fluttering closed, her lashes long and dark against her smooth skin. “Wow, that’s just heavenly.”

He grinned at her enjoyment, then swallowed back a curse as his dick suddenly woke up. Fuck, he’d managed to get through a whole day without thinking about bedding a woman, but now that the idea had occurred to him, he felt an urgent and insistent throbbing in his groin.

“Well, well,” a deep voice interrupted them. “If it isn’t our local hero. Telling stories about how you slew that unicorn? Oh, but wait… You didn’t, did you. I did. While you got carted off on a stretcher like a baby.”

Nalyx muttered a curse under his breath. The night had been going so well, and Hallix just had to come along and ruin it.

“Hello, Hallix,” Gantalla said, looking up at him. “Enjoying the evening? I know I am.” She ran a hand down Nalyx’s arm and smiled smugly. But despite her conversational tone, Nalyx could see the way her shoulders tensed, and suddenly, he wondered what else Hallix had said to her recently. She hadn’t been anywhere near so defensive about Calium, despite his obvious flirting.

“You’ve got her on a tight leash, don’t you Nalyx,” Hallix said, deliberately mispronouncing Nalyx’s name. “Wrapped around your little finger like you’re afraid she’s going to run off and find a better companion for the evening?”

“Jealous, are you?” Gantalla said. “If you’re looking for company, I’m sure Fin is around here somewhere. Oh, but that’s right. She’s spending the night with Henrick again. Hm, too bad.”

Nalyx grinned at that. If there was anything likely to get under Hallix’s skin, it was comparing him to his brother.

But Hallix just snorted. “Nothing to say, Nalyx? It’s a sad day when a woman has to defend you, if you’re not willing to do it yourself.”

“I don’t need anyone to defend me,” Nalyx said, wishing he could think of a witty retort. No doubt one would come to him after Hallix had made his point and left.

“Except for me, of course,” Hallix said. “When you lost a fight and got yourself stabbed in the process.” Hallix turned back to Gantalla. “Did he mention that I had to carry him back from the forest? Nothing wrong with his legs, but he couldn’t even manage to stand on his own two feet.”

Gantalla said nothing, no condescending sympathy or cutting remark. And as the seconds ticked by, Nalyx could imagine what she was thinking. That he was a weak fighter, a failure, a disappointment to the army. Of course he hadn’t mentioned being carried before, but the announcement must come as a rude shock. Why was she even hanging around with him?

But the answer came to him easily enough, and he was suddenly embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Right from the first night, she’d been doing every menial little task for him, jumping in and offering before he could even ask. But at the same time, she’d asked for nothing in return, when most of the women would have been dropping hints about expecting a new necklace or a fancy pair of earrings. And now, she’d actually decided she’d found her calling in being a nurse… after running around looking after him for days.

Well, that was embarrassing. She didn’t see him as a strong, proud man in need of a little assistance; she saw him as a helpless patient. And maybe that was true. He hadn’t been able to clean his own armour, or give himself a bath. He hadn’t even managed to take his own pants off, as simple as that job should have been.

And Hallix, that bastard, saw from the expression on Nalyx’s face that his barbs had hit home. “Well, enjoy your evening,” he said with a smirk. “It’s fortunate Gantalla’s got such a kind heart, feeding a warrior like a baby. If you get tired of playing nurse, come and find me. I’ll show you what a real man can do for you.” He strode off, a swagger in his step.

“Ignore him,” Gantalla said, loading up the fork she was holding with the next mouthful. “He’s just being petty.” She held up the fork, but suddenly, Nalyx had had enough.

“You know what? I think I’m good,” he said, standing up.

Gantalla looked up at him in surprise. “But you haven’t finished your meal.”

“I’m not hungry,” he snapped, and suddenly, he wasn’t. “I’m sure you have more interesting things to do than wasting your time with me. I’m going to find myself something to drink.” He stalked off, not bothering to wait for her reply.

◊          ◊          ◊

Once he made it back to his room, Nalyx collapsed on the bed. Fuck, he was an idiot. No wonder Gantalla hadn’t been interested in sleeping with him. She was single, and clever, and beautiful, and what woman with all that going for her wouldn’t want a warrior for a husband? Not that he was looking for a wife, but that hadn’t stopped Liatra or June or Radian from seeking out his attention. But Liatra, at least, had come to her senses, telling him to damn well pull himself together before she would waste any more time with him. And on reflection, he realised she was right. Women wanted strong husbands, protectors, providers, and for as long as he kept mooching about feeling sorry for himself, she was right to keep her distance.

But Gantalla, for all her attention, still clearly didn’t want him. She’d just been too polite to come right out and say so. Ignoring his advances during the bath, reluctant to sleep in his bed, refusing to take her clothes off around him. He’d had the audacity to think she was shy, when she was really just a kind and compassionate woman who had rightly realised that he was beneath her. No wonder she’d been so excited about working at the hospital. It gave her a whole new outlet for her compassionate side, far more useful than coddling a sulky warrior.

Gods, he could be stupid sometimes.

But for all his internal scolding, his body was still remembering the way she’d looked with that fork in her mouth, the way her lips had stroked the thin metal, the way her eyes had closed in pleasure.

Awkwardly, he undid his trousers, wincing as he scraped the skin beneath his bandages in the process. He slid the pants off, leaving them lying on the floor, and flopped back down on the bed. His cock was still throbbing, ignoring his ongoing instructions to shut the fuck up, and after three weeks on the battlefield and four nights without a woman afterwards, he’d finally had enough.

Shuffling around, doing his best not to jar his shoulder, he grabbed the spare pillow on the bed and shoved it between his thighs. His hands were still too sore to use them to gain any relief, but that didn’t mean other options weren’t available. He rolled onto his front, thrusting his hips into the pillow, and he let out a moan as the smooth cotton stroked his aching flesh. Gods, yes, he needed this. He needed some sort of relief, no matter how simple, and in the absence of a willing woman, a pillow would have to do. He thrust again, his hips rolling forward, then he set up a quick rhythm.

He called to mind the way Gantalla had looked in her wet shirt, her nipples standing out beneath the thin fabric. He imagined what she would have looked like underneath, if he’d peeled that wet fabric up and over her shoulders. He thought about how it would feel to take her from behind, both of them thigh deep in the warm water of the bath, how she’d moan and thrust her shapely buttocks back at him…

A surge raced through his groin, and he buried his face in the blankets and moaned as he climaxed into the pillow. The orgasm went on for long moments, nearly four weeks of frustration pouring out of him in a hot, sticky mess. Then he lay still, catching his breath, his body sated, though his mind was still full of bitterness and disappointment.

Finally, he rolled over, cursing once again as he felt the wetness on his belly. Fuck. He did his best to wipe up the mess on the pillowcase, then tossed the thing to the floor. But come morning, he realised, he would have to figure out how the hell he was going to do some laundry.