Page 6 of His Noble Savior

“You’re glad that he’s gone though,” Richard said with a smile. “I’ll ask him to stay with George on the third floor while you’re with us. He’ll understand. Imps have a reputation, and trust takes time.” He peeled out of his leather armor as he spoke, leaving him in his white linen shirt and a pair of dark, fitted trousers.

“Imps aren’t half as bad as orcs.” Lilian turned to look Richard in the eye. “I was at the Great River when they caught me. They moved me a lot, but I didn’t realize they’d dragged me across Vale.” Lilian’s bottom lip quaked.

Richard made a soothing sound. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Lilian ran a shaky hand over his face, his fingers long and slender. He spasmed, sucking down air.

“Is there anything I can do to help you until the healer getshere? Would you like a blanket? Or if you want to be alone—”

“No!”

There was a second of silence. “Then I won’t leave.” Richard unfurled into a sitting position on the carpet, extending his legs under the divan.

Lilian swallowed and averted his gaze. “Could you hold my hand? Please?”

“Of course.” Richard clasped Lilian’s jittery hand where it lay on his chest. It was icy. He interlaced their fingers, and Lilian’s breathing evened out.

“It’s good to know someone is here.”

Richard’s heart ached. How long had it been since someone had touched Lilian gently? Richard ran his thumb over the back of Lilian’s hand, earning a small sound. Lilian’s eyelids closed, and he fell asleep.

Richard didn’t move. He watched over Lilian, whose frigid skin warmed under his touch. Whenever a whine broke free of Lilian’s lips, Richard stroked his hand, calming him.

Finally, steps sounded in the hallway and a heavy knock came rapping on the door. Lilian stirred, blinking his eyes open. Richard gave him a moment to find his bearings before he answered.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and a fae clad in a forest green robe entered. She carried a leather satchel and had pinned a gilded, coiling brooch to her dress, identifying her as a healer. Like many summer fae, she was copper-haired, and her skin had a healthy bronze tone. She looked no older than thirty, but she could be well past a hundred. Fae didn’t age during the first two centuries of their lives.

“I’m grateful you came so quickly,” Richard said, sidestepping the words “thank you,” which fae considered rude. They operated on a complicated system of favors and debts, andwords were no adequate repayment for a service. “The steward will pay you in gold from the castle’s funds before you leave. You’ll be compensated generously for your efforts.” Staying indebted to a fae was dangerous, and Richard preferred to settle obligations on the spot and in coin.

Lilian sat up, taking care to stay covered by Richard’s cloak. He didn’t let go of Richard’s hand, who moved to sit beside him on the divan while the healer examined Lilian’s bruised limbs and asked about his other injuries.

“I can go outside if you prefer to show her alone,” Richard said. No doubt Lilian was hurt in intimate places, and Richard wanted to respect his privacy.

Lilian shook his head vehemently, clutching Richard.

“I can stay right outside the door.”

“No,” Lilian bit out, tightening his grip on Richard.

If Lilian didn’t want him to go, he wasn’t going to leave. Lilian had been deprived of someone to turn to, and naturally, he’d latched onto Richard, the first person he saw after his escape. He needed a shoulder to lean on, and Richard would provide it. Only a monster could stay unaffected and not help in the face of the ordeal Lilian had gone through.

The healer inspected his injuries, lifting the cloak here and there. Richard averted his gaze, protecting Lilian’s privacy. When Lilian hissed in pain, Richard stroked his knuckles. In a detached voice, Lilian told the healer about his captivity.

When she finished the examination, she sat down on a chair facing them. An uneasy sense of foreboding befell Richard at her somber expression. She had bad news. Lilian shuffled closer to him, tightly wrapping himself in the cloak.

“Lilian,” the healer said, “I don’t know if you had an opportunity to notice while you were with the orcs, but your eyes have turned pink.”

Lilian flinched, jostling Richard, and blinked rapidly. Shallowbreaths rushed in and out of him.

The healer placed a hand on Lilian’s knee, but he jerked away, curling in on Richard. Instinct guiding him, he wrapped an arm around Lilian’s narrow shoulders, holding him close. He wanted to ask about Lilian’s eyes but held his tongue. Richard was here to support him, not to ask questions that might upset him.

“You spent a lot of time in captivity,” the healer continued, “and repeated injuries have exhausted your life magic. Your irises have turned pink as a result. Fae and orcs aren’t compatible, and while reproduction is theoretically possible, it’s highly unlikely. Fae bodies reject orc seed. It means you didn’t bond with the orcs who held you, and you won’t have their offspring. Unlike humans, fae cannot become physically dependent on orcs either. However, since they frequently violated you over a long time, your health has been affected. Large quantities of orc fluids are toxic to fae. While you’re not going to die immediately, it does mean your aging process has set in prematurely.”

A sob shook Lilian, and Richard held him tighter. With every word the fae said, his worries for Lilian grew.

“How old are you?” the healer asked.

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