* * * * *
Snow fell heavily that day, and by the next morning, the world seemed made of ice. The cold wind hurt to breathe as Lily stepped outside the longhouse, so unless water was required, she remained inside. With Crag gone, she realized how much she missed him. Though he didn’t have the most pleasant disposition – she well understood why – he was familiar, and the times they’d made love seemed imprinted on her mind. He was dependable and a good teacher. She missed the sound of his voice and knowing any of them could go to him, night or day. In spite of the conditions he’d been forced to live under, in spite of what his own overworked brain thought at times, he cared about people. He, a
Zaltanian
.
Lily spent the days helping Coral with her chores and Gem with her baby. Often the three women sat together, mending or cooking, and talked about the life they might have after the war ended. They all knew they were simply fantasizing.
Lily used the slight knowledge she’d gained from Crag and continued assisting what people she could. If Sir Wood noticed, he didn’t mention anything. At least he didn’t tell her not to interfere, however he didn’t offer any new learning either. She understood he was busy, but Crag had been busy too. Perhaps Crag had seen the sense in sharing his knowledge with a commoner.
It was two nights later that Crag and Sir Blaze returned to the settlement. Almost everyone was asleep, but Lily sat, propped against a barrel, staring at the hearth and allowing her thoughts to drift. She stood as the doors opened and freezing wind wafted through the entire house.
Crag and Sir Blade, both covered with frost, stepped inside. Wood joined them, and Lily edged closer.
“Rain and his guards are helping the casualties we brought into the other houses where there’s more space,” Sir Blaze said.
“Good. We’re cramped enough as it is in here.” Wood glanced at the two men. “One of the women will bring you some warm water and blankets.”
The two looked frozen and exhausted. Crag kept his hands buried in his robe, and he hadn’t so much as glanced around the longhouse. He probably feared if he caught anyone’s eye they’d shout for a healer.
“I’ll get the water and blankets,” Lily said softly.
Blaze offered her a tired smile. “My thanks.”
As she walked away, she heard Blaze say to Wood, “Please avoid disturbing us until after first light.”
“Of course, Sir,” Wood said. “I imagine it’s been a difficult time for you.”
“Three sleepless days and nights,” he stated. “But all is well. Many were saved.”
Both Blaze and Crag sat close to the hearth and removed their frozen cloaks. While Lily set a pan of water to heating, she brought them blankets.
Blaze accepted a blanket from her and nodded toward Crag, “He needs water. His gloves are little more than ornament.”
She glanced at Crag’s hands and noted that his gloves, worn before the journey, were completely threadbare. He began removing them clumsily, as if his fingers were too cold to get a proper grip.
“You should have had new ones made,” Lily said as she began removing the gloves for him, her stomach tense when she thought of the discomfort he must feel. His blue-tinged hands felt like ice, the fingers stiff. He was lucky frostbite hadn’t set in.
“I didn’t have much call for them around here,” he said, a slight waver in his voice as he trembled violently. “I’ve never done so much stitching with hands that cold. I don’t think I’ll ever move them again.”
He sat on the ground, leaning against a wooden trunk, the blanket draped over his shoulders. Lily filled a wooden bowl with warm water and placed it on his lap. He immersed his hands in it, and after a few moments, wiggled his fingers.
“Were there many people?” she asked.
“Enough. There was no real shelter. No food. Hardly any water. It’s amazing so many survived, considering the seriousness of their injuries.”
“Would you like something to eat?”
He shook his head, his eyes slipping shut. “Not now.”
She nodded, watching him for a moment, resisting the urge to touch him and offer comfort for fear someone in the longhouse might notice the familiarity between them and guess their intimacy.
After a moment, she joined Blaze. “Would you like something to eat?”
“Don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble.”
She stood and found bread and leftover broth to bring him. He ate with a heartier appetite than his slim frame had led her to believe.
“Do you… Do you really speak with the dead?” she asked.
He stopped chewing, and his pale eyes met hers. For a man of his age and position, his eyes appeared almost innocent, and she was charmed by such a rare, open expression.
“Yes. Dead to us, but still alive. To me, they’re as real as you, Water Flower.”
“You mean they’re not like ghosts?”
“Not to me. They appear as flesh, though I cannot touch them. They speak as loud as anyone, yet in code, as they feel and as they see.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It must be difficult for you, living with the dead.”
“It can be distracting, yet I’ve grown accustomed to their ways.”
“Are there many like you? Not who see the dead, but who wear that green sash?”
“Ah, the weaponless warriors. No. We are few. Ten in our faction, including myself.” Blaze glanced at Crag. “Soon perhaps eleven.”
“He’s a very good fighter,” she said.
“And a good healer,” Blaze observed. “Wood told me, yet over these days, I’ve seen for myself. His instincts are good, and he’s gained much experience in a short time. This is a difficult place in which to fulfill service.”
“This place is hell.”
“A palace can be hell, Water Flower.”
Lily nodded. “I see what you mean, but don’t tell me you like it here.”
He laughed. “A point well taken.”
"I'll let you sleep, Sir." She took his empty bowl and stood.
“Thank you.” He touched her arm and again nodded in Crag’s direction. “The life of a Knight is not easy. He’s lucky to have found you.”
Lily blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” The idea that someone had discovered her and Crag’s secret both startled and relieved her.
Blaze offered a gentle smile, but said no more.
Lily discarded the bowl and sat for a time, watching Gem’s baby sleep as she’d often watched
Vina
.
For some reason, she was unable to sleep herself. She approached the hearth and saw Blaze curled by the fire, his eyes closed. She glanced at Crag. He’d fallen asleep with his hands still in the water.
Shaking her head, Lily took a towel and knelt beside him, slipping the bowl from his lap. The water had already started to cool, and in a few moments would have defeated its earlier purpose. As she dried his hands with the towel, he jerked awake.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You fell asleep with your hands in the water. You’ll get cold again.”
He bent and straightened his fingers almost painfully. “At least I can move them now.”
“Here.” She took one of his hands in hers, using her thumbs to massage his palms. She rubbed his fingers and gently turned his wrists. “How does that feel?”
“Good.” He sighed. “Very good.”
“My husband’s hands used to hurt. He said this helped.” She stared down at the hand she massaged. Her husband’s hands hadn’t been as large as Crag’s, yet in some ways, they were similar. Both had strong, graceful fingers. It disturbed her that simply touching Crag or looking at him made her entire body tingle and her belly tighten. Her husband had never evoked such feelings. He’d been a good man. She’d cared for him and mourned his death, but something about Crag made her ache with desire. Lily cleared her throat as she continued, “My husband was a stone carver.”
“An artist?”
She nodded. “His statues were all over our village. They were destroyed during the attack.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I’m learning to move on.”
“Are you? That’s good. I wish I could.”
“Blaze said you’re a very good healer.”
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
Crag leaned his head back and closed his eyes as Lily picked up his other hand and repeated her ministrations. She massaged his fingers until she was certain he slept, then covered him with another blanket. Instead of moving back to her own space, she sat beside him and drifted to sleep.
What seemed like moments later, she jumped awake when someone called for a healer.
Crag had thrown off his blankets and, out of habit, stumbled to his feet. Lily grasped his arm. “Sir Wood’s going to them.”
He squinted in the dimness and saw that she was right.
“You have until tomorrow to rest, remember?”
He settled back beside her. “I had the worst dream.”
“What about?” Lily studied his profile, the flutter of his lashes against his cheeks and the straightness of his nose.
“The entire world was black and red,” he murmured, his voice sleepy, though he reached for her hand and clung to it. “A herd of beasts, tall as houses with big, gray tusks chased me. Monkeys, demons, and birds of prey swooped from trees stripped of leaves. The trunks were all black. There was blood on my hands.”
“It was just a dream.” She touched his shoulder with her free hand, her fingers gently gripping.
He sighed and sat up, walking to a basin of water and splashing some on his face. Shrugging on his cloak, he glanced at her, “I need some air.”
She stood, reaching for her own cloak. “I would have thought you’d had enough of the cold over the past few days.”
Without a word, he headed for the door, slowing so Lily could fall into step beside him. They paused in the doorway, and he held her eyes. “I missed you, Lily.”
“You did?”
He nodded.
Why did his words make her feel so warm? He stared at her, as if waiting for a response. Did he want her to say she missed him as well? She had. Quite desperately at times, but some part of her, a part that still hated
Zaltanians
, refused to let her tell him.
Crag stepped into the cold, and after a moment’s hesitation, Lily followed. Moonlight brightened the snowy settlement, so she had no problem following Crag’s dark silhouette to the supply house. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of the last time they’d been there together. Did he really need supplies, or had he hoped she’d follow him?
When she stepped inside, he stood staring at the door, one of his shoulders leaning against the wall.
“You did come.” He stepped close to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“We shouldn’t be doing this, Crag.”
“I know, but I can’t seem to stop myself, Lily.” His eyes burned into hers. A pulse beat madly in the base of his throat. He took her hands and held them to his chest. “It used to be when I had even the briefest moment to myself, I wouldn’t think at all, just sit, numb. Now, during those moments all I think about is holding you.”
“Why are we doing this?” she sighed, closing her eyes, her fingers gripping the hard muscles of his chest. “Are we like animals taking what pleasure we can while we can? Once this is over, if it’s ever over, will we regret what we’ve done?”
“It’s too late to take it back.”
“I know.” Lily looked up at him, at the familiarity of his beautiful eyes, the hollows beneath his sharp cheekbones, the color of his beard, and the shape of his lips. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. His tongue met hers while his hands caressed her face. Suddenly she wanted to give him something that he’d always remember, even after they separated.
She parted his cloak and caressed his chest and abdomen as she sank to her knees before him, lifted his tunic, and slipped beneath it.
“Lily, what are you doing?” he murmured, but already she sensed his excitement and desire.
She unfastened his belt and tugged his trousers down to his knees. She sighed with pleasure upon feeling the steely muscles of his hair-roughened thighs. By the Spirit, he was built like a lean, granite statue!
Lily lowered her face to one of his ankles and kissed it. She ran her lips over his shin while her hands kneaded his calf, loving the sensation of hard muscle beneath a mat of hair. When she reached his knee, she traced the shape of it with her tongue, then licked her way up his inner thigh to the joining of his hip and pelvis. She buried her face in the dark thatch between his legs and nuzzled him, cupping his heavy balls in one hand and squeezing.
Crag drew a sharp breath when her tongue moved to his other leg. She lapped from thigh to ankle, then kissed her way up again. Lily cupped his smooth buttocks as her breath fanned his cock. The hard muscles of his bottom were clenched with desire. Her fingers gently parted the globes and teased his sphincter with feather-light touches. She rubbed her cheek against his cock, enjoying the smooth hardness. Burying her lips at the base, she kissed its length and took the head between her lips.
“Lily, oh, Gods!” he panted, his bottom tightening even more in her hands. She lapped his cock head and ran her tongue along the underside. Kissing her way back down the straining rod, she moved one hand to cup his balls. Squeezing the hair-dusted globes, she continued lapping and sucking his erection. Her other hand wandered up to caress his torso. Her palm rested against his ribs, and she felt his heart slamming against bone and muscle. As she sucked deeper and harder, the rhythm beating against her palm quickened even more. His cock felt so steely that she wondered if it could get much harder. Her teeth raked the length of him and the tip of her tongue played around the little eye, tasting the first droplets of his essence. She’d never done such things with a man before, and she wondered how long she could continue before he reached the end of his tolerance? Lily slowed her pace, then sped it up. She sucked fast and deep, then licked slow and long. All the while she listened to his breath as it changed from soft panting to ragged sobs. She gauged the beating of his heart beneath her hand, noting that in spite of the coldness of the storage shed, his flesh had heated. So had hers. Arousing him had her nipples hard and her pussy drenched.