Page 66 of Grim and Oro
That makes me laugh more.
She’s insulted me and I love it. Along with a good amount of blood, I must have also lost my mind in that cave. She applies more healing salve.
“Your leg,” I croak out.
She looks surprised by my concern. “It is already bandaged,” she says, keeping her attention trained on my wounds. She tends to them gingerly, expertly, gently. No one has ever been gentle with me. No one has ever cared this much.
She looks up then. My expression must shock her. “What?” she asks.
“I just think it’s ironic that the hearteater who stabbed me through the chest is now tending to my injuries.”
She gives me a withering look that makes my heart race. “Ithink it’s ironic that the demon who claims he has no shred of humanity used himself as a blockade against an army of arrows to save me.”
I did, didn’t I?
And I would do it again without question.
Twelve arrows are nothing, I think.
Nothing, compared to the anguish of senselessly caring so much for my enemy.
When she’s done healing me, she shakes her head, frustrated. “Seriously. Why did youdothat?”
It’s a dangerous question, because I did it without a moment’s hesitation. It was instinct, to stand between her and danger.
How ironic that her savior is putting her in the path of the greatest danger of all.
By now, I’ve lost a lot of blood. I can barely keep my head upright as I say, “That’s an interesting way of saying thank you.”
She begins to adjust my bandages, tightening them. Her hands are on my chest, and they are a balm against the ache. Chocolate, making everything sweeter. Keeping me tethered to consciousness. Before she can remove her hands, mine pin hers there.
“The cold, Hearteater,” I say. Her hands are cold, from the weather outside. My voice sounds far away. My head falls back. “It helps the pain.”
She doesn’t move, and I am grateful.
I hate being touched.
Except for when she touches me.
She removes her fingers far too soon. The absence of her touch is almost as painful as the injuries themselves.
And in that moment, I know I would take a thousand arrows for her, if it meant I’d feel her hands on me again.
We have tried every way to get inside the cave, and my purpose has shifted. I’m no longer desperate to get the sword.
I’m desperate to spend time with her. I’m desperate to protect her, to be her shield, to be whatever she needs from me, as long as she will have me.
Because around her ... Ifeel, for the first time in centuries. I feeleverything.
And, for the first time, it doesn’t seem like a bad thing.
We just finished our latest attempt at capturing the sword, and I have run a bath filled with medicine from the Moonling newland. It clouds the water. She glances at it from where she stands in my bedroom.
She’s covered in blood from wounds I couldn’t prevent.
“Stay,” I say, the word falling from my lips.
She looks surprised. “Stay?”
