Page 124 of The Kingdom's Reckoning
"Will you help me? It’s a hard spot to see," she asked, almost bashfully.
Graeson blinked, and his lips parted. "Sure, of course."
Kalisandre nodded and hobbled toward the house. Graeson, still stunned, stared after her for a moment before he shook himself from his stupor and followed.
Graeson,simple man that he was, was transfixed as Kalisandre peeled her loose trousers over her knee and tugged the pant leg past her thigh. With each inch of skin she revealed, his heart pounded harder and harder. It was only her leg, yet he stood there dumbfounded all the same.
The last time they were alone together was in the forest when he had told her about his father. Something had changed thatday between them. Neither of them had spoken about it, and Graeson was afraid to bring it up. It was still too new.
There were so many things he wanted to say to her—there always were. But he struggled to speak, the words stuck in his throat. More than anything else, he was surprised she had asked him to help her. He was trying hard not to dwell on it or figure out what it meant, but it was harder than he cared to admit.
Kalisandre cleared her throat. "Can you?—?"
"Oh, of course," Graeson mumbled, dropping to his knees behind her. He reached for the cotton wrapping and placed his other hand above her knee to hold her in place.
The moment his palm touched her skin, Kalisandre gasped. Graeson struggled to keep his attention focused on the task.
He swallowed hard.
Blinking away the haze that filled his vision and the emotions that stirred within him, Graeson unpeeled the bandage, being careful not to put too much pressure on the wound in case it was still sore. Once unraveled, he let the fabric fall to the ground.
"How does it look?" Kalisandre looked over her shoulder, struggling to see the wound.
Graeson brushed his thumb lightly across the bruised skin. The skin around the wound was a little red and a little warmer than the rest of her leg, but there didn’t appear to be an infection. "It looks good," he said, his voice thick.
"What’s wrong then?"
"Hmm?" he hummed, peeling his gaze away from the wound.
"You look upset. Did the stitches come undone? Ellie said she knew how to sew up a wound, but maybe she was lying."
"No, no," Graeson said, shaking his head. "The stitches look fine. None of them have ripped, either."
"Then what is it—oh." Kalisandre turned to face him, causing Graeson’s hands to fall limp in his lap. She tipped his chin upwith her hand, her thumb brushing against the faint scruff that colored his jawline. "It’s only a small wound, Gray."
He stared up at her, speechless. How did she know where his thoughts had gone?
"It’snotyour fault."
"But—"
"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You do not get to take the blame for this."
"I could have lost you," he said, voice shaking.
"But you didn’t." She pressed her other hand to his face, cocooning either side of him.
He squeezed his eyes shut as she dug her fingers through his hair. Her touch was a comfort he hadn’t realized he had missed until that moment. His forehead kissed her bare thigh, and he took a shaky breath. He let the scent of lilac and sweat calm him.
"We both have a habit of taking on too much, of bearing the weight of too many," she said, her words gentle. "We need to stop. If we have any hope of facing Sebastian and his army, we need to keep our heads clear. Got it?"
"I’m not sure I know how to do that."
"Then we can learn together, yeah?" she said with a small smile.
His gaze bounced between her sea-blue eyes, their depth drawing him in. His breaths became shorter. He could see the quick rise and fall of her chest, the tension in the room tightening.
She tugged at the hair at the base of his head, tipping his head further back. "Graeson."
