Nerina POV

Nerina suppressed a laugh at the look of sheer alarm crossing Rowan’s face when he spotted the blood on her dress. He clearly assumed the worst, and before she could stop him, he was already pushing through the press of soldiers, tugging her along lightly by the arm toward the clerics’ tent.

“Lady Nerina, coming through!” he called, his voice pitched higher than usual. “Where’s Lady Arianna?”

Several heads turned, and Nerina winced inwardly. The last thing they needed was talk of their second-in-command being gravely wounded.

“Rowan,” she said calmly, matching her stride to his, “if you don’t stop dragging me this instant, you’re going to cause more trouble than you prevent.”

He froze. Looked at her. Looked again at the blood. “…You’re not hurt?”

“It’s not mine,” she said. “And I was on my way here anyway.”

Understanding dawned, followed swiftly by embarrassment. He released her arm and bowed hastily.

“My apologies, my lady.”

She smiled after him as he fled. “You’re a good man, Rowan,” she called.

Gale POV

Gale looked up as Nerina entered the tent. She paused just inside, her eyes moving over the rows of cots. His breath caught as she caught his gaze and changed course, crossing the tent and stepping in front of the cleric who had been approaching his side.

“I’ll take care of that,” Nerina said, reaching for the basket.

The cleric hesitated, then handed it over. Gale straightened slightly as she came to a stop beside him, schooling his expression into something neutral and failing only a little. He watched her work in silence as she examined the cut on his hand, her brow furrowing faintly.

“That looks worse than it is,” he offered.

“I noticed,” she said, smiling lightly, already turning to crush herbs with practiced efficiency.

Gale watched as she worked, mortar tapping softly against the table while she measured water into a small kettle and set it over the waiting coals. The motions were quick, confident — the sort that came from repetition rather than thought. She poured the crushed leaves into the cup, added the water once it had heated, and covered it briefly, letting the steam rise between them. He waited until she returned and placed the cup in his hands, warmth seeping through the clay, before speaking again.

“If you have time for this,” he said lightly, “I’ll assume the battle isn’t lost just yet.”

She gave him a look. “Drink.”

He did — and almost regretted it.

The first swallow was bitter and earthy, just as he expected, the taste sharp enough to make him grimace. Then, unexpectedly, a faint sweetness lingered at the back of his tongue, softening the edge of it. He hesitated, cup still raised, wondering whether that note had always been there and he had simply never noticed… or whether she had added it deliberately, knowing exactly how this particular remedy tended to go down.

Whatever she’d brewed worked quickly. Warmth spread through his hand and up his arm, the pain receding with surprising speed, until by the time she began cleaning the wound the worst of it had dulled into something distant and manageable. Gale exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders despite himself.

He glanced at her hands as she worked, at the quiet focus in her expression, and found himself wondering—not for the first time—whether he was imagining things, or whether she was far more careful with him than she needed to be.

“You’re quieter than usual,” she observed, interrupting his thoughts.

“Temporary condition,” he said blithely. “I’ll recover.”

She smiled again and her shoulders eased, continuing to dress his wound with precise, practiced motions. Gale watched her silently until her fingers brushed a particularly tender area and he flinched despite himself.

“Did that hurt?” she asked, her hands pausing as her eyes flicked up quickly in concern.

“Only a little,” he assured her with a smile.

Nerina POV

She let her gaze linger on him for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary before she returning to her task. 

“Focus, Nerina,” she thought to herself. “This is work.” 

Her hands moved with practiced precision, mind tracking each turn of the bandage, each measured pull of cloth. She concentrated on the small, manageable details—the even pressure, the clean wrap, the care required to avoid reopening the wound—anything that kept her from thinking about the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers, or the way her pulse had quickened the moment she realized how close he was watching her. This was familiar ground. Safe ground. She had spent years here, pretending not to notice the things that lingered just beneath the surface.

“The effects of the tea should fade in a little while,” she said, tying off the final knot.

Only then did she realize he hadn’t pulled his hand away.

His fingers closed lightly around hers, tentative, as if he might let go the moment she objected. Nerina froze, her thoughts scattering all at once. There were any number of reasonable explanations—residual pain, the lingering effects of the tea, simple gratitude. She told herself it was nothing more than that, that she was reading too much into an entirely innocent gesture.

She didn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” Gale said quietly.

The words settled between them, heavier than they had any right to be. She became acutely aware of how close he was, of the way the air seemed to tighten around them. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs as she searched his face for some indication that this meant what she feared it might—or that it didn’t.

Before she could decide which outcome frightened her more, he leaned forward and kissed her.

It was brief and uncertain, more a question than a claim, and for one stunned moment she couldn’t move at all. The world narrowed to the warmth of his lips and the dizzying realization that this—this—could not be mistaken for anything else.

He drew back almost at once. “I—” He shook his head, already pulling away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It must be the tea, or the adrenaline, or—” He gave a short, self-conscious breath. “That wasn’t fair of me.”

Nerina inhaled sharply, steadying herself as she stepped back, fingers rising instinctively to her lips. They trembled. So did her breath.

“That was…” She exhaled slowly, then gave a quiet, almost incredulous laugh. “Unexpected.”

Gale winced. “I know.” He stopped, then added more softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to complicate things right now.”

Nerina studied him for a long moment. Her pulse still raced, her thoughts stubbornly out of order, but beneath it all was a steady, unmistakable truth she could no longer ignore. His eyes were fixed on hers, searching for something.

“We should talk about this,” she continued, the words careful but unhesitating.

Relief crossed his face so quickly it was almost painful to see. “Yes,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“Later,” she clarified. “When this is over.”

He nodded at once. “Later,” he agreed.

For a moment neither of them moved. The space between them felt charged now, altered in a way that couldn’t be undone.

Then she stepped back, forcing herself to breathe. “Just—don’t do anything reckless,” she said quietly.

“Anything else, you mean.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I’ll try not to.”

---