By then, the Knights had driven off the attackers. Lily stepped out of the longhouse to see who required help and noticed Crag had dropped the sword and knelt by the bodies of a dead
Zaltanian
and a slaughtered
Tanekian
woman. He stared at his bloody hands and shook his head.
“Crag.” Lily touched his shoulder.
His head snapped up, and she couldn’t clearly discern the emotions warring in his eyes.
“By the Spirit, what a mess!” Sir Wood approached. He stared hard at Crag for a moment before he ordered, “Come. We have plenty of work to do. Many wounded to care for.”
Silently, Crag joined the healers who were attempting to be everywhere at once. Coral and several others from the houses joined Lily in searching for those clinging to life among the corpses.
Lily sighed as she gazed at the bloody snow and the ruins of several lean-tos.
It wasn’t until very late that night, when most of the mess had been cleaned, that they were finally able to rest. Outside the longhouse, Lily sat behind a barrel and gazed at the moon, pulling a woolen robe tightly under her chin. The nights were growing even colder, and she sensed an impending storm in spite of how the earlier warm weather had tricked them into believing winter might end.
She heard footsteps, and glanced at the shadowed figures of Crag and Sir Rain. Hidden from them, she overheard another conversation not meant for her ears.
“In spite of the lives you saved fighting off the raiders, you deliberately disobeyed orders today, Crag,” Rain stated.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I, personally, agree with the decision you made. Your instincts weren’t bad, and I might have done the same. However, the rules of our Order demand that you be punished for insubordination.” Lily heard Rain sigh. “When the reinforcements come, we had intended to ship you out to join the cavalry for the remainder of your service. To pay for your actions today, you will stay here instead.”
Lily squinted in the dimness and saw Crag swallow hard. He drew a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, Sir. Such an assignment is probably better for me. After today, I have no intention of ever picking up a weapon again as long as I live.”
Rain lifted an eyebrow. “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Crag. Is there a problem you’d like to discuss?”
“A few days ago, I helped bring a life into the world, Sir. Today I killed six men, perhaps more, if the ones I wounded also die. Over the time I’ve spent here, I’ve seen many die. I wasn't able to save them, but I also didn’t kill them.”
“You were a soldier before you took up your training. I know you’ve killed before.”
“Yes, Sir, but I’ve changed. I’ve had enough blood on my hands without putting more there myself,” Crag stated. “May I go, Sir?”
“Yes.” Rain touched Crag’s arm. “ You may change your mind about fighting with weapons, however, if you don’t, there is a faction of our Order – a small faction, grant you – which have dedicated their lives completely to healing. They carry no weapons. Ever. They are, however, highly trained in hand-to-hand combat. It’s difficult for a Knight to enter that faction. The training is rigorous and the ultimate decision about who is accepted falls on the faction leader, Sir Blaze. Still, it’s something for you to consider.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Crag said, but Lily saw no interest in his eyes, only desolation.
She nearly followed Crag inside, but instead remained seated, hugging her knees. After all, the
Zaltanian’s
problems – and his decisions – were none of her business. She had her own troubles to wallow in.
* * * * *
Aiding in the delivery of Gem’s baby had made Lily think about her own existence. Her family was dead and her village destroyed. But she was still alive. Unless she chose to take her own life – a thought which had crossed her mind – she would go on. Slowly, she opened her heart to life again.
One afternoon, between chores, she approached Crag who knelt, cleaning and stitching a leg wound on
Tanek’s
blacksmith who had been injured while shoeing a horse. One of the Knights apprentice, a man training in the guard, held the man as still as possible while Crag worked. In spite of the blacksmith's desire to remain still, it was difficult when Crag’s quick, gentle ministrations caused such pain to the raw injury. The apprentice struggled against his charge's strength.
They were positioned in one of the only empty spaces left in the house, directly by the hearth. Even in the dead of winter, the constantly burning fires made the longhouse hot and stuffy, but the temperature by the hearth was most unbearable. Unfortunately, it was also the brightest place in the house, therefore easiest for Crag to see the injuries he worked on.
Lily paused for a moment, watching his bloody hands as they carefully removed dirt and bits of rock from the wound then stitched it. It amazed her such large hands could be so graceful and gentle, yet she well knew just how tender their touch could be. Her heartbeat quickened when she recalled how his hands felt on her body. No! How could she think of such a thing at a time like this? He turned his head, attempting to wipe a tendril of sweaty hair from eyes that were bloodshot from smoky air and lack of sleep.
“Here.” Lily brushed back his dark brown hair and retied the strip of rope that had loosened at his nape.
“Thanks,” he said. “I should just cut it all off.”
“I know women who’d kill for that hair,” she told him.
“It’s hot as hell’s belly in here,” he muttered. “And outside your fingers could fall off from the cold.”
“We need a perfect spring day.”
The blacksmith snapped through clenched teeth, “There are no perfect days left. All because of those
Zaltanian
bastards!”
Lily’s eyes flew to Crag’s face, but his expression only betrayed concentration on his work. She asked, “Can I help at all?”
“I could use some fresh water.”
Immediately, she filled a bowl and brought it to him. She continued watching him, and once the wound was stitched, he showed her how to bandage it.
“I can teach you how to change dressings,” he said. “If you want.”
“Would it help?”
He gave a wry laugh. “Do owls hoot? With so many people, it seems like I spend half my life changing bandages.”
For the remainder of the day, she followed Crag as he worked, watching him and assisting in any way she could. This mostly meant fetching water and bandages and talking to people to keep their minds off his ministrations. For the first time in weeks she focused on something other than
Vina
and her old life.
It was long after dusk and most people were asleep when Lily and Crag finally stopped for a meal. She took half a loaf of bread, and he picked up two leftover bowls of stew. He walked toward that mysterious leather curtain, and Lily stopped outside, knowing it was off-limits to all but the healers.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t you want any stew?”
Hesitantly, she followed him behind the curtain. It was a small space, but large enough for them to sit comfortably on a rug. Shelves of powders, liquids, dried herbs, bandages, needles, and knives lined the walls from ceiling to floor. Blankets were piled in the corner, and two leather bags, one she guessed belonging to Crag, the other to Sir Wood, sat side by side against a barrel.
As they ate, she glanced at Crag. He stared into space, chewing silently.
“I can help you again tomorrow, if you want,” she offered. “I know I’m not much help, but—”
“No, you are.” His blue eyes focused on her. “Thank you for all you did today.”
“I’m glad to be useful for something more than cooking and mending.” She placed her bowl on the floor, bowed her head, and closed her eyes, rubbing the back of her neck, sore from weeks of hauling water and supplies.
Crag’s hand nudged hers aside. His strong fingers massaged the tight muscles in her neck and shoulders, and she allowed herself to relax.
“I’m sorry
Zaltana
ruined your life,” he said.
She looked up at him. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t kill my husband or destroy my village.”
“The warriors of
Zaltana
follow orders, just like anywhere else.”
“Your orders are to kill and enslave. Men, women, children, no one’s safe from you – I mean them. Surely you must see the wrong of what they do. Why else would you have left?”
“Change will take time. For a kingdom like
Zaltana
, change may never occur.”
“It can as long as there are
Zaltanians
like you.”
“Like me.” His eyes frosted. “I was a killer, Lily. In my own way, I’m still a killer. When the injured are brought to me, I often have to decide who lives and who dies. Who should get my attention first? When should I summon Sir Wood? What herbs should I give and how much? Much of what I do is guesswork. How does that sound? Guesswork from a healer, from a person people bring their sick children to and say ‘help them.’ Our supplies are dwindling, yet more sick are brought in every month – no, every week. I haven’t left this place in over a year and a half. I’m tired of the dirt and of watching people suffer. I’m tired. I can’t remember the last time I slept a full night. Sometimes I wish these people would disappear or… ”
“Die?” she asked.
“Does that make me a terrible person?”
“No,” she replied honestly. When she’d first arrived in
Tanek
, she would have been horrified by such a revelation from a man training for Knighthood. That was before she lived here.
“I don’t think they’re ever going to let me leave here,” he whispered. “Not until this bloody war is over, and knowing
Zaltana
, that could take forever.”
“Don’t say that.” She shook her head. The thought of the war never ending was too terrible.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” His hand moved to her shoulder, then her neck. His eyes, glistening with frustration and yearning, bore into hers, yet for the first time she noticed another emotion.
Once again drawn by mutual desolation, they leaned closer to one another. Her eyes focused on his full, soft-looking bottom lip peeking through his dark beard. She remembered how it felt and longed for his kiss.
“I know we’re not supposed to mention it,” he whispered against her lips, “but I want you again, Lily. I want you so badly.”
“I know,” she murmured, taking his face in her hands. Her eyes held his and her pulse throbbed.
“You’re an ache, Lily, a sweet, powerful ache.” He buried one of his hands in the hair at her nape and kissed her temple then her cheek. “I could take you right here and now.”
“Do it.” She clutched handfuls of his hair. “Do it!”
He needed no further encouragement. His mouth covered hers, his beard rough and his lips and tongue soft and moist.
Lily closed her eyes and untied Crag’s hair from its leather strip. She threaded her fingers through the thick waves. His arms tightened around her so his chest crushed her breasts. His strong, hard body felt so good! Disentangling her fingers from his hair, she grasped his back. Through his tunic she felt the play of muscles as he moved. Her fingertips pressed along the length of his broad shoulders, feeling the thickness of his bones. When in his arms, she found it difficult to remember he was a healer. The ones in her village had been slim, studious, and a bit condescending. While lean, Crag's muscles felt rock-hard and sculpted. Beneath her touch, his body radiated strength such as she'd never felt. Intelligence shone in his eyes, yet he was never condescending. Sullen, perhaps, and she understood why.
"I need you, Lily," he murmured. He kissed her upper lip then her lower.
Burying his face in her neck, he tickled her flesh with his tongue. Lily shivered at the sensation, her heartbeat quickening when he slipped down the front of her dress. His thumbs circled her nipples. He traced her areolas and her nipples tightened to tingling peaks. Her pussy grew wet and Lily fought to keep from moaning. Only the curtain separated them from the others sleeping in the longhouse. What if another Knight – Sir Wood, perhaps – decided he needed healing supplies? Lily nearly mentioned this to Crag, but his lips fastened on one of her nipples as his tongue caressed the peak, and she no longer cared who might discover them.
Crag’s hands slid beneath her dress and stroked the curly triangle between her legs. He gently explored her pussy and a shiver of desire ran down her spine. A wet finger stroked her clit, running up, down, and along the underside.
"Oh, Goddess!" Lily whispered, trying not to gasp too loudly.
Two fingers slid inside her. She clenched her inner muscles and thrust against Crag’s hand. His fingers explored her hot, moist inner-flesh while his thumb circled her clit. All the while his lips and tongue continued their delightful torment on her nipple.
Lily’s heart throbbed out of control as she approached her climax.
Suddenly Crag's hands and lips left her. Her eyes flew open as she started to protest.
She paused. Crag, his own chest rising and falling with agitated breathing, fumbled with his tunic and trousers. His lips parted slightly as he tried panting in silence. Within seconds, his cock was free. Though dark, Lily caught the outline of it and her pulse leapt. It was long and thick, arising from a cushion of dark spirals. Suddenly she longed to see the rest of his body. She knew how powerful he felt, and she’d seen the breadth of his shoulders and chest, but what did his flesh and muscle look like beneath the drab gray tunic?