The Princess and the Blade

[Emora Deen]

She nodded, curling onto her side, facing him. She rested her hand on the blankets, locked her other hand around her wrist to still the shaking, and tried to sleep.

She fell asleep, but it was fitful. She woke, groaned, fell back asleep. She tossed and turned and it was hot and humid, so she kicked her covers off and wallowed until she rolled up against Havitharon, sweating and uncomfortable but sleeping.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi wasn't entirely taken off guard when she rolled into him. He'd already decided how to make sure she didn't have to "wake him up" tomorrow, and that was to never transform in the first place. That meant he had nothing better to do than watch as Tenara struggled and suffered. He was moments from trying to remove her bandage and treat her with venom again, dilute as it might be, when she scuffled into him. He expected it to wake her up, since she'd been fitful to begin with, but her breathing evened out.

He frowned at the woman curled against his side. He kept thinking of her story, about her being hunted by assassins and pinned between gods. She had more power than he'd ever seen before, and yet half the time, she seemed like a delicate flower that could be destroyed by the slightest turn of the weather. He'd never been touched so casually and... perpetually. But then, it didn't seem reasonable to crush a flower just because the wind blew its stem against him.

At least he had no worry about accidentally sleeping anymore. He lay wide awake and monitored her troubled sleep until the first traces of sunrise flooded the left corner of the room with deep orange light.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara whimpered as she woke, and immediately clamped a hold on her expression of pain when she realized Havitharon was… Havitharon. At least, she hoped it was him, otherwise who’s warmth was against her back. But, that was absurd, every morning he was a cold slate of steel. Panic drilled out pain, and Tenara wrestled up, whirling as she did, to find who was in the bed with her. She fumbled too close to the edge of the bed and wobbled to catch her balance as she tumbled out.

[Soran Nightblade]

"Hey!" Havitharon shot up and grabbed her wrist with one hand, reaching for her hip with the other. Unfortunately, his leg caught in the covers, and his upward momentum just made it worse. He muttered a curse in his language as he tumbled out with her. He landed on his back with one ridiculously long leg still caught in the sheets, and Tenara on top of him.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara panted, too bewildered by looking at him that morning to realize she was straddling his hips, and draped across his chest. “Havitharon?” She asked, because she wasn’t certain how he was… awake. Awake? Was that right?

He still held her good wrist, and without thinking she pressed her bandaged hand against the floor to push herself up and off him. Instead, she cried out and collapsed back over him.

[Soran Nightblade]

Her cry of pain set something off in him. "Wait!" He threw his arms around and pinned her still against his chest. His grip wasn't violent, but it was absolutely vicelike. "First, calm down," he spoke in a low voice beside her ear.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara could hardly be calm. She was pressed against him. On top of him. His warmth seeped into her as his lips brushed her ear. She shivered, a silly sweep of desire blowing over her, even as a wave of unease rolled through her. She was trapped. She could tell by the feel of his arms coiled over her, the strength in them.

Calm…

She remembered his words. His warnings.

But he wouldn’t hurt her. He was helping her.

She nodded, her cheek brushing across his skin. She took deep calming breaths, blowing cool air over his chest.

She felt small and vulnerable, as if he could squeeze tighter and crush her like a bird. He had no reason to. She was and would only ever be kind to him.

He thought that a flaw. A weakness. She would make sure it wasn’t.

“You’re awake and not a sword. How?” Was it the burn? She attempted, briefly, to sit up and look at her hand, but the resistance she felt in his arms fizzled the desire. She hated how much she enjoyed being held. A month and more of running—two months if you counted the one aboard a ship she chose, very deliberately, not to think about—and it felt good to be held. She knew it was daft, considering who was doing the holding. Even still…

[Soran Nightblade]

He relaxed a little as he felt some of the tension go out of her muscles and her breath slow. Then he realized he could feel her breath slow because their bodies were pinned together, and he was the one tensing up. "I just didn't," he said quietly. Talking made his lips brush her ear again, and something in him throbbed for attention. Maybe it was impossible not to be conscious of her, after all the near-misses they kept having each morning. "I'll let you go... move slowly and don't use your left hand."

[Emora Deen]

She nodded again, even though she didn’t want to move. She liked the security of his arms across her back, the feel of his chest pressed to hers. But he wouldn’t want her there.

She eased up, sitting over him a second as she collected herself and then stood. She cradled her hand to her chest. “How is this possible? I mean, I think it’s wonderful for you… I don’t have to torment you this morning. I just don’t understand.”

[Soran Nightblade]

"Torment me?" He looked at her hand. "You do not torment me. You always wound yourself to restore my form. It is simply easier for me to stay like this." He gestured to himself, although at the moment he was flat on his back, with his hair sprawled across the floor. He glanced at his leg, which was still tangled up above them. Trying to free it would mean squirming, and... that didn't seem like a good idea right now. "Well, I did not realize you would fall out of the bed."

[Emora Deen]

She glanced at the bed, following the tangle of covers to his leg. She bent and attempted to wrench the covers from around his leg with her good hand. “You are usually cold steel next to me in the morning. I felt warmth and… didn’t know who was lying against me.” She blushed and managed to loosen the fabric. “Now, I know. I won’t panic tomorrow.”

She pursed her lips, holding back asking why they’d been toiling with raising him every morning if it were really as simple as staying in his form.

[Soran Nightblade]

He frowned. "I apologize. You were... very close, and I wasn't sure how to move you." His cheeks darkened ever so slightly. This whole situation was getting to him. "We should go find the herbs you need."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara glanced to the book shelf. A farmer had to have books on homesteading, right? Maybe he would have a book that could tell them about vegetation and it’s uses. She went to it, kneeling and tracing a finger along the spines. Odd, she thought, for a farmer to have so many books.

Tenara found the one she was looking for, drawing it into her lap with one hand. She thumbed through it, until she found the right plant. “We need to find something that looks like this—orloroot.”

[Soran Nightblade]

He looked over her shoulder at the illustration on the page. "You are well enough to hike? Or perhaps the horse." His work repairing doors and other insecurities around the property had put him in proximity with the animal enough to form an uneasy trust with it.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara thought about it. She wouldn’t be able to saddle it with her hand the way it was, and asking Havitharon to do it was likely to devolve into a comedy of errors. But, she could ride bare back if he helped her on.

“I could ride,” she said, and led him out to the horse, grabbing the lead rope as she went. She clipped it to the halter, and then turned to the seven-foot being. “Could you give me a lift?”