Page 5 of Bound By Stardust
I felt his golden gaze on me as he shuffled through the clothes, but I turned my back on him so as not to see more of that tempting skin. Reason warred in my chest. He was one of the Masters, and I had no business looking at him with desire in my eyes. He resembled many things I did not have, including freedom and power.
Bending over the fire, I ladled a thick gruel into two bowls. When I turned around, he’d found some trousers. They settled low on his hips and were immodestly tight. He winked at me and settled into a chair, wincing as though something pained him. His wounds had to be internal because his flesh was without blemish.
I dusted his bowl with stardust and sat it in front of him. “Eat.”
“As you command, my healer,” he smirked.
I frowned, not appreciating his flirtatious tone, and I sat down as far away as possible from him. “How do you feel?”
He took a bite, froze, then swallowed hard.
The gruel.
Grandmother had despaired in teaching me to cook, but since I was good at mixing vials and using stardust, she taught me how to bargain. Often, in exchange for one of my tinctures or in payment for my work as a healer, the citizens of Terrin brought me food. They ensured I ate well. Otherwise, I made do with my own rudimentary skills.
“Better.” He cleared his throat, finally answering my earlier question.
I bit back a laugh and glanced from the bowl to his face. “I put stardust in it. You have to eat it all.”
One hand formed a fist, as though steeling himself for what was to come, and then he finished the bowl with lightning speed. With a self-indulgent smile, he set the empty bowl on the table and gestured to me. “What about you? Don’t you need to keep up your strength?”
I scowled and swallowed another spoonful of the bland-tasting gruel. “As your healer, it is my duty to take care of you first. I assume your injuries are internal, so you should rest. Come.”
Standing, I pulled back the curtain that divided the two rooms of the cottage. In the back was my room, a windowless section with space for a bed and a collection of treasures I stored underneath it. The woodcarver had made the bed, and I was rather proud of its size.
But now, staring at it, I stuck my tongue in my cheek. Drazhan was huge; he’d never fit.
Apparently, he agreed, for he hadn’t budged from the table. “I will not sleep again, especially not during daylight. Let me help you while you work.”
Inwardly fuming, I frowned. I’d hoped he’d sleep again so I could have the cottage to myself and work without him interrupting. He was distracting, and warmth skated through me each time I felt those intense golden eyes on me, which was often. Collecting stardust was my biggest job of the year, and I had long days of work before the tithe.
“Fine,” I relented. “But you’re healing. You’re not supposed to do much. Sit in front of the fire and don’t let it go out.”
He spread his fingers. “Are you always this bossy?”
“I’m just telling you what I tell all who come to me for healing. If you don’t rest, you’ll make yourself worse.”
“Do you give yourself the same advice?”
I wrinkled my nose in confusion. “Why?”
“I wager you slept little last night. Why don’t you take a nap?”
My barking laugh cut him short, and I realized too late how rude I sounded. No one had looked out for my well-being since Grandmother passed, and his words nudged something in my soul. Was he trying to be kind, or did he have an alternative motive? “I’ll rest when you rest,” I said.
The morning passed.
Drazhan slouched in my rocking chair and dozed while I worked, spreading vials across the table and bottling stardust as best I could. I fell into a rhythm, completely forgetting about my guest, and jumped when his low voice rang out.
“When is the tithe?”
My body went rigid, and then I turned around, watching his long eyelashes sweep down. He appeared more alive than ever, and there was something in his tone, an urgency.
“In seven days. Why?”
His eyes glazed over, lost in thought. Holding up a hand, he counted with his fingers. “I recall spring, the flowers in full bloom, the gardens bright with life, then the confrontation, the stabbing. It’s been six months since I was cast down.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Six months?”
