Page 126 of Bound

She just needed to bend over. That was all. Bend and shimmy her hips through the shift and be done with it.

The shift slipped from her finger and onto the floor when she made even the slightest move forward, and she groaned, wanting nothing more than to bury herself in her quilts and maybe cry a bit longer.

No, that wasn’t right. She wanted to not have fallen at all. Wanted to feel herself, and not this weakened, dependent creature that couldn’t even muck her own stalls.

She sank back onto the bed and fiddled with the puddle of fabric with her toes, willing it to fly upward and back into her lap.

“Wren?” Braum asked, his body in the doorway but his eyes carefully averted to the ground.

She didn’t squeak, but her cheeks flooded with warmth as she hastily pulled a quilt over her lap, the bandages for her wing doing a great deal to cover the top of her.

“Do you need help?”

He did not ask if she wanted it. He knew her better than that. The answer would have been curt and frustrated, even if it was directed more at herself than to him.

But did she need it?

It was a huff. That was all. It wasn’t a sob at all that lodged in her throat and came out a choked sort of, “Yes.” An admission rather than an answer. The cost was only her pride—and Braum was not one for mockery.

His steps were slow and measured as he closed the distance between them. As if he was waiting for her to change her mind and banish him outright.

She wanted her mother so badly it was like a physical ache in her chest, adding to the soreness, the pains and making her eyes leak like a fledgling.

She covered her face with her hands and suddenly she could bend after all, because her body wanted to huddle, to contort and hide and...

Braum was kneeling. His hand was on her knee. His skin was warm, but rather than a comfort, she felt an even greater swell of embarrassment. He always saw her lowest moments, and for a great while she’d blamed him as the cause of them.

He said nothing. Neither in comfort or in teasing, and she was grateful for it. As she fought to take in one full breath after another. His touch left her knee and went down to her ankle, easing her foot through her shift. Then the other.

His fingers did not linger, but her heart raced as if they had. As he pushed the fabric up her legs and then to where her thighs touched the mattress and he could get no further.

“Will you stand?” he asked, his voice low. A little tight, and it made her insides twitch faintly.

She didn’t ask him about modesty or quilts or coverings. He held her hand with his free one and kept his eyes firmly up at her face as he eased the shift up her hips and helped the straps over each shoulder, standing as he went.

“There now,” he soothed, smoothing his hand over the edges of the straps and catching just a bit of her skin as he did so. “Feel better?”

“No.” Yes. Somewhere in between.

He hummed a little, as if understanding. “I’m afraid I’ve turned your kitchen into a washroom. Your bedding is drying. The mattress will not take quite as long, I think. You’ll be able to move back upstairs tonight.” Wren gave him a miserable look. “I will help you,” Braum amended. “If you’d rather be in your own bed.”

She did want that, but there was so much more pressing down on her, making her feel foolish and vulnerable. She’d hurt herself before. Cuts and bruises, mended with herbs and bandages and half-hearted chores for a week while things mended.

This was... more.

She sank back down onto the bed, feeling as if what little strength she had left was suddenly gone.

Which hurt. The jostling and the impact, no matter how soft her mother’s mattress might be. She eased onto her side, mindful of her injuries, and fought not to huddle.

Braum was kneeling again, hovering and not quite touching as he looked her over for some sign of what she needed—how he might be useful.

It wasn’t just up to him, she reminded herself. Da would help. He’d stay until she mended, if she asked him to.

She did not have to beg.

Wouldn’t.

No, she amended to herself. If any one of her animals was at risk for going hungry, she would even do that. Her pride wasn’t worth it. Not in comparison.

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