Page 31 of Ashes of Betrayal

To Bree’s surprise, he didn’t flatly refuse her.Finally, some progress.

Clearing his throat, Cailean broke the stare first. Retrieving his sodden cloak, he wrung as much water as he could from it before using it to wipe his face. He then glanced her way once more. “Are you hungry?”

“Aye.” And she was. All she’d eaten today was a few handfuls of brambles.

Digging into a pack, he withdrew a leather-wrapped package and handed it to her. “It’s a pie.”

“Thank you.”

Meanwhile, Cailean unwrapped his own package and took a bite out of a pie that looked as if he’d already started it. Wordlessly, Bree ate her supper. The pie was pork and herb, and surprisingly good—for Marav fare.

The meal was a silent one, tense. Despite her small victory, Bree was wary of him. Cailean was as prickly as a thistle these days. One flippant word could shatter what little ground she’d gained this evening.

Steam rose between them as they ate, as the heat of the fire started to dry their clothing and the cloaks they’d hung up next to it. The air smelled of wet leather and wool.

After they’d eaten, he handed her a skin of ale. Without thinking, Bree took it with her right hand. She then stilled, her breath hissing between clenched teeth.

Cailean frowned. “Your arm?”

“It’s all right,” she replied, lifting the skin to her lips with her left hand. It wasn’t really, but it was best not to complain. She’d deal with it after supper.

Moments passed, and then Cailean muttered a curse under his breath.

Bree stiffened, surprised by his outburst. “What?”

Pushing himself to his feet, he moved around to her side of the fire. “Let me see it.”

Frowning, she reluctantly held out her arm, watching as he unfastened the leather bracer covering her forearm. He then rolled up the sleeve of the close-fitting woolen tunic she wore underneath.

Bree’s lips compressed into a grimace when he revealed the cut beneath. It was deeper than she’d realized and already inflamed. However, it was difficult to concentrate on her injury, for the scent of him—leather, woodsmoke, and a hint of spice—overwhelmed her senses. He knelt close enough that she could see the thick black stubble on his chin.

“What do your people use to treat iron wounds?” Cailean asked.

“Usually crushed whin … when it’s in flower,” she replied, trying to concentrate. This late in the year, the scented yellow flowers weren’t available. “Otherwise, moss will do. I’ll go looking for some shortly.”

“I’ll do it.” He got up and fashioned a torch out of a bundle of twigs.

Bree watched him work, her pulse thudding against her ribs. “What a paradox you are, Cailean,” she said softly. “One moment you’re snarling at me … the next you’re tending my wounds. Admit it, youdocare.”

He shot her a sidelong glance, his gaze hardening. “Don’t look for things that aren’t there,” he muttered. “You were injuredbecause of me … and I intend to put things right. That’s all this is.”

Not waiting for her response, he strode off into the darkness.

14: TWENTY YEARS TOO LATE

REMAINING BY THE fire, Bree watched the flames dance. Cailean’s response had been a slap to the face, one that still stung.

It was a lie too, for she’d seen the concern flare in his eyes about her injury.

She was still brooding—and trying to come up with a way to get him to thaw toward her—when he returned with a handful of moss a short while later. Stopping off at one of his saddlebags, he extracted a small wineskin before kneeling in front of her once more. He then proceeded to clean her wound with what smelled like strong wine, using a scrap of moss as a cloth before applying some to the wound. After that, he tore the bottom of her sleeve off and used it as a makeshift bandage.

She watched him work, noting the deft movements of his hands.

However, the silence between them grew more awkward by the moment, and she was desperate to smooth things over.

“You know some of the healing arts, I see,” she said finally as he secured the bandage with a knot.

Cailean glanced up, meeting her eye. “All druids are taught how to tend to minor injuries. My skills end here though.” He moved back, putting some distance between them once more.“You’ll need to dress it again and put on a clean bandage tomorrow.”

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