Page 51 of Blood Weaver
I wasn’t alone. Henry’s silent form was huddled on the floor, his head resting on the corner of my cot. An unsettling mix ofgratitude and concern filled me and I wondered how long he’d maintained this silent vigil. Reaching out, I gently brushed his hair away from his face. He stirred and his eyes snapped open. After a fleeting moment of disorientation, he straightened.
“Miss Leila?” His voice was groggy but laced with relief. “Are you finally awake?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Why don’t you get some rest?”
He shook his head. “No. I have to inform Ronan that you’re awake.” He rose, each movement echoing the weariness that clung to his bones, and left the tent in search of Ronan.
The pain in my body had receded and I felt some of my strength return, but I still wasn’t in top shape. What should have been a slow recovery had been hastened by the healer who had obviously treated me. I attempted to sit up, but my bones and joints were stiff. I lay there with a blend of impatience and relief coursing through me until the tent flaps rustled and Ronan’s towering form entered.
“You never listen, do you?” Though stern, his voice held a level of concern that was touching. The chieftain’s son stopped by my bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I muttered. “Where are we?” I glanced around warily, but I didn’t see a distinguishing characteristic to announce where we were.
“Don’t worry about that for now. Just get better.” Ronan pulled the blankets up and tucked them under my chin. “Are you hungry?”
His tenderness was disconcerting, a deviation from the Ronan I thought I knew. My brows knitted together, suspicion and curiosity intertwining. “What’s wrong?”
A laugh, rich and deep, escaped him. “Nothing is wrong! Does something need to be wrong for me to be nice to you?” The warmth in his eyes belied the stern tone that followed. “When what Ireallywant to do is wring your neck for disobeying me.”
“Now that’s more like it,” I chuckled.
Ronan's eyes held a mix of frustration and relief. The silent interplay of emotions was a dance we were both learning. “Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” he asked, the firmness in his voice softened by the unmistakable concern in his crimson eyes.
“You should know by now that it’s part of my charm,” I replied, my attempt at lightness barely masking the undercurrent of vulnerability that lay beneath.
Silence enveloped the inside of the tent. While fraught with unspoken words and tensions, in this quietude, a strange comfort persisted.
He pulled up a chair and settled beside the cot. “You should rest, Leila.” Ronan’s voice was imbued with tenderness that seemed as foreign as it was familiar.
“I’ve been doing nothingbutresting,” I protested. The restlessness within sought an outlet, a breach from the confines of the cot and tent.
Ronan’s gaze held mine and our silent exchange seemed to echo the unsaid, the known, and the unknown. “You were hurt badly, Leila. You need time to recover.” He paused and looked me over. “You’ll have permanent scars,” he said hesitantly as he fisted his hands. “I’ll kill him,” he growled, growing angrier by the second. “I promise you.”
I reached out and placed a hand over his. “Ronan—”
“Don’t!” He stopped my words and pulled his hand from my grasp. “Don’t youdaredefend that coward to me. Caelan doesn’t deserve your consideration.”
I shook my head. “I’m not trying to defend him, but I also don’t want you to be consumed with hatred because of what happened to me. I’m not worth it.”
A flicker of surprise. “You’re more than worth it, Leila, and you know it.”
I snorted. “Why? Because I’m the lost princess?”
He frowned. “That has nothing to do with it.”
I nodded in understanding. “I know you’re angry and I know you consider me a …friend, but—”
“A friend?” he repeated with a raised brow. “Interesting choice of words.”
I sighed. “Come on, Ronan. Don’t make things difficult.”
He scoffed. “Me? Make things difficult foryou?”
“You know that’s not what I meant—” I rushed to backpedal, but he wasn’t having it. The temperature in the tent rose several degrees.
Ronan was livid. “I had to orchestrate your rescue from someplace I couldn’t go because of the bounty on my head. Do you have any idea how much I have sacrificed for—”
“For me,” I finished with a barely restrained eye roll. “I know.”
