Keziah 

There was a change in the air.  

The rain came down in thick heavy drops. They fell hard against the sill. Bursting into smaller drops like hands reaching back up towards the sky. 

The change I felt came from the large knight casually inspecting my naked back. He must have found the marks Uncle had left. A sharp intake of breath sucked between his teeth. His fingers drew near enough to sense but did not touch; hovering over the sensitive bruised skin.  

Sir Scarlet might think he hurt me terribly, but his attempt on my life hardly compared to spending a decade under Uncle’s care. 

“Who made these marks on you?”  

He sounded barely controlled. The heat of his words on the back of my neck could rival the fire in the hearth. His hands dropped away, and I turned my head over my shoulder to look at him when I answered. Anger had a way of attracting violence and I did not want his tender touch to turn. Uncle and his cane would be no match for this knight’s huge hands and physique of muscles sprouting out of muscles.

“Uncle Cuthwyn.” 

“Verbodine.” The name sounded like a curse on his lips.  

I would prefer he only damn Uncle’s name, Verbodine had been respectable once.  

The knight muttered curses to himself. I could only make out a bit of it, despite the colorful word choices it sounded like an oath. I doubted he even realized he spoke aloud.  

Would he tell me if I asked about his history with Uncle? 

“There’s not much I can do to treat this without a weaver.” Pity hung thick in his voice and manner. “But a little cool water might temporarily ease the aching.” 

He dipped a fresh cloth into the water basin and gently placed it across the bruise on my right side. I sucked in a breath. The pressure was light, but enough to ache. It took a moment for the cool water to ease some of the tension I’d been carrying since the morning. His fingers left tingling trails where they brushed against my skin. The intimate little touches distracted me into forgetting about the pain. He repeated the action on my other side, little drops of water trickling over my hip. 

Not even those closest to me in Verbodine had cared for me with such delicacy. This brute of a knight acting as a nursemaid was too much of a contradiction. Certainly, he had better things to do with his time than wrap me in bandages. 

Why did he choose to be here, with me, doing this? Being…kind?

It was beneath his dignity.  

“Thank you,” I whispered. I worried I’d wake up from this fragile dream if I spoke too loud. Like the imaginary worlds I buried myself in when Uncle was at his worst. It would make more sense if his actions were my hallucinations of something nicer than reality.

“You are under my care now,” he stated. “You might find this hard to believe given how you have been treated today, but I will not let anything else happen to you while you remain in my protection.” 

“What must I do to earn your protection?” I asked cautiously. I pinched the back of my hand. I could feel it. This was real.

He sighed, pulled the damp cloth from my side, and set it next to the basin. “You can cover up now, but if you would like to change I will send someone to assist you. A woman so you can feel more at ease.” 

“But–” 

“I have no specific requirements for you yet. That might change later,” he said, running his hand over his long braided hair. It picked up the glow of the fire in the darkening room, threading the red with streaks of bright golden color. 

The storm had rolled in at full force. Howling winds picked up the pouring rain until it nearly blew sideways across the moors. 

“I will have questions for you. I hope you will be able to answer. But right now I have pressing concerns I must see to. And you need rest.” 

Using a folded towel he picked up the kettle he’d placed over the fire and poured steaming hot water into the basin. He splashed it over his hands and face, giving each a quick scrub before drying off with one of the small cloths.  

“Use the water to wash up if you like,” he said, turning towards the door. He picked up his sword from where he had left it by his armor, securing it with his belt around his waist. “I will send up something for you to eat.” 

He opened the door and stopped, looking back at me with a frown. I had no idea what I had done, this time, to deserve such a look. 

“And don’t leave this room.” With that, he closed the door and was gone. He left his armor behind. He would be back. 

Half-naked, partially wet, and very confused I sat for a moment after he left, trying to piece together what I knew. 

The young Duke of Truehorn, the land of plenty by the sea. As far as captors and potential executioners went, I had been taken by one of the best. Even isolated at Verbodine, I heard his name many times. Uncle had cursed it often. The knights in Uncle’s employ condemned him out of spite or jealousy for his achievements. The servants and common folk had spoken of him with the reverence of a fabled hero. There was even a popular song about him and his knights. Traveling bards were prohibited from singing it in Verbodine.

Then there was the man I met. With a low whispery voice, he had cared for my wounds and scolded himself when he made a blunder. Even when he had devolved into cursing, upset by me or something else, he had not turned to violence. He didn’t force me to disrobe or do any of the awful things Sir Erewald liked to threaten me with when he’d caught me in some quiet place alone. 

He had tried to kill me. That was something not to be taken lightly. A few gentle words and gentle hands would not wash that moment away. 

Still better than marriage to the Marquis, or, being at Uncle’s side. 

I hoped Uncle was trapped in the heavy rain, soaked to the bone, freezing, and unsure of where he would go to be safe. Better yet he could ride off a cliff. 

Imagining Uncle miserable or dead fuelled a dark hope; a pretty picture I could revel in. He might have traveled far enough to lose his hold over my body, but I could still feel the threads of his weaving wrapped around my mind. The nagging doubt in my head spoke with his voice. Telling me I still belonged to him. I must obey him. Follow his will, as mine was not to be trusted. 

“Get it together, Kezzy,” I spoke out loud. I needed to hear my voice to drown out Uncle’s.  

I looked around the room. I might not be able to leave, but there could be something here to help me.  

I pulled my shift back on. I didn’t want to be caught prancing about in the nude. The bridal gown fell to the floor when I stood. I stepped out of the pool of satin to wash in the warm water he’d left. The steamy heat helped clear my head.  

Looking for my next steps, I literally stepped on it. Grimacing, I pulled a little pearl button from where it had stuck to the pad of my foot. It wouldn’t be worth much, but selling it would give me more than the nothing I had now. I grabbed the last clean cloth off the table and got down on my knees. I collected every tiny pearl button from where it had scattered across the floor and gathered them in the cloth. If I was lucky enough to be freed I could trade a few buttons for a night at an inn and some warm food.

The glint of the small dagger on the table caught my eye. Was he flighty and forgot it? Did he not see me as a threat? Or was it a test? 

Whatever it had been, a mistake or plan, I could use the security. I grabbed the dagger and used it to slice off the last few buttons from the dress. I added the emerald and gold necklace to the pile, tied the four corners of the cloth into a makeshift purse, and shoved it into the pocket of my shift. 

I wrapped the blade in one of the damp cloths on the table. It wasn’t perfect, but it should keep me from cutting myself by accident.  

Hopping carefully about the rest of the room on my good foot, I found nothing else of interest or great enough value to risk taking. 

I slipped the covered blade under a pillow and lay down. Everything hurt and the rain was making a soothing lullaby.  

I would close my eyes for just a moment.