This was terrible. To help another man's woman bathe was utterly unthinkable. In all the names of the gods, Kation was like Tristan's little sister! This was so very wrong. Tristan would have every right to demand blood for this. But she didn't seem to care. Short of childbirth, she was in fact, inviting him to watch a woman's most private act.
But nothing would come of it. And he wouldn't be tempted to do anything, since she looked more like a boy than a twenty-one summers' old woman. But here was one who fearlessly clambered along rooftops, had impressive skills in horsemanship, an uncomplaining work ethic and an utter disdain for rank and status. Such things took an inner strength that most women lacked, and he respected her.
At the sound of her sliding into the water, he turned slowly, and saw she was with her back to him. Her skin was as white and smooth as marble in the dim lamplight. He could at least take the bandages off her head and tell her if she'd missed any bloodstains. But he was nobody's personal slave and he wouldn't be massaging oil into her skin like one.
He walked over to the edge of the pool, rolled up his trousers, and tugged off his boots. Then he sat on the edge of the bath adjacent to her and put his aching feet into the water with a sigh.
"It's supposed to be my bath time, not yours." She pointed out.
"Shove off, I've earned this." He grunted back, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. There was a slosh of water, and a small hand poked his leg. He stared down at her, and was amused to see that she had one arm crossed over her utterly flat chest.
"Bandages," she said curtly, turning away from him so he could attack the knots more easily.
As he leaned forward, he noticed her slender ribcage, tapering to a narrow waist and a small, pert—
He quickly sat up straight and unwound the bandages, keeping his eyes trained firmly on his task. "All done," he said.
"Thanks," she moved back to where they had left the sponge and washcloth.
Kahedin closed his eyes at the sound of water splashing, and into his mind the vision of a birthmark that he'd noticed just above her…
Focus! Ask her about the spy!
"So what happened before he screamed?" he asked, staring at the ceiling.
"Like I said, he attacked me. And then I woke up, surprised him, he cried out in alarm and then Tristan attacked us with the door." She sighed.
Kahedin looked at her then. "So he hit you across the head with the knife?"
That seemed too far-fetched. He might have stabbed her, or knocked her out, or strangled her, but slashing at the back of her head…
Kation didn't seem to mind his direct stare. "Oh, the wound was from the studded door. He hit me over the back of the head." From that angle, the water reflected the dim lamplight and concealed all that lay beneath its shimmering surface.
Kahedin mulled this over. "What was he doing when you awoke?"
"He had his ear to the door."
"And the knife?"
"He'd left it lying on top of me; doubtless as a message to Arthur." She snorted at the idea, and lifted a leg out of the water to clean at a distinctly grubby knee. "It was too obvious – whoever put him up to it would have known that."
"Why do you think the spy had been hired by someone?" Kahedin asked sharply. Was she really that cunning and suspicious? Tristan had warned him she was devious, but to this extent?
"He wasn't dressed well enough to be carrying around a nice dagger like that."
"They could simply have been a disguise."
"But he was wearing his own boots," she countered, carefully wiping the sponge over her face and rinsing the blood out of her hair. "Anyone can wear a raggedy tunic and pretend to be a farmhand – but those thick studded shoes fit him and they weren't very high quality. If he had been a proper spy, he might have even worn shoes that helped him be quiet as he tip-toed along the hallway, but I easily heard him coming. No professional would make such a simple mistake."
Kahedin was impressed with her reasoning, and resolved to have another look at the man's clothes the following morning, since everyone would be heading for bed by now. He stifled a yawn at the thought.
"Tristan tells me you want to see the prisoner. Why? Did he realise you're a girl?"
"I don't think so… but I want to be sure." She said, and sank up to her chin in the blissfully hot water.
As Kahedin let his mind ponder the implications of this, an image rose unbidden in his mind. "Any theories about who would be interested in our meetings?"
"I'd have to look at some scrolls before I name anyone in particular. But there are a few who spring to mind." She mused, stretching her arms above her head and yawning.
In the subsequent quiet, Kahedin silently castigated himself. He was not having dangerous thoughts concerning that birthmark… she was Tristan's problem… Tristan's responsibility. She was also uninspiring and flat-chested; sarcastic, stubborn, rude, violent and completely impossible. And He was incredibly angry at Tristan for putting him up to this. But he'd never be able to look Kation in the eye again without the dark knowledge of that saucy mark in the small of her back springing to mind…
Curse it! He had to focus! The little she-devil was utterly repellent! Think of Brenna's luscious curves or Verica's enormous—
"Close your eyes," she said a trifle wearily.
Kahedin obediently closed his eyes and turned his head away. After all, he respected her, despite his improper thoughts. And since when was he given to moral self-flagellation?!
He heard her climb out and his impulses were stronger than his morals.
"Oh shit and hellfire! Please tell me I didn't just see that!" he howled, falling back with his hands pressed to his face.
She had wrapped the towel around her hips, and Kahedin had clearly seen a narrow chest, with not even the slightest of suggestions that she might be female. Dark nipples were hard in the chill of the air and a taut flat stomach was framed by the suggestion of narrow hip bones.
"I told you to close your eyes, you pervert!" she snapped angrily.
Kahedin groaned theatrically and peered around his fingers to see she had turned her back to him and was tugging on her undershirt.
He closed his eyes with a strong sense of disappointment; he really did like women who could fill out a dress. She was starkly underdeveloped and made him think of little girls, yet to experience even the beginning of womanhood, rushing around in nothing but short kilts in the heat of the summer sun. All lascivious thoughts about that birthmark would now, mercifully, be forever tainted.
He heard bare feet padding over to him and a small foot connected sharply with his ribs.
"All is safely hidden away, Sir Delicate," she snapped sarcastically.
He warily opened his eyes, and saw she had also pulled on her leggings. "Tristan and Gawain are going to use me for as a target for archery practise," he moaned, climbing to his feet. Kation tilted her head as she looked down at him.
"Don't worry, I won't tell them."
Kahedin was instantly suspicious. "Why?"
"It doesn't concern them. I will defend my own honour." She said firmly, turning away and slipping into her outer tunic. She wrapped the long front halves across her chest and secured them with a clean sash.
They gathered everything up in tense silence and Kation reached up to gently run her fingers over the stitches in the back of her head, her expression clouded. "It looks very ugly, doesn't it?" she said quietly.
"It will heal in no time." He assured her. "And just think, you and Bors now have something in common."
"How wonderful," she said dryly.
They left the baths and walked through the dark streets side by side. Kation holding her bundle of wash kit and dirty clothes in one hand, and clutching Kahedin's hand in her other for balance.
"Maybe this is the start of something," she mused. "Tristan may try tattooing my face so he can spot me in a crowd."
"I'm sure that Bedwyr would love to mark you."
"Bedwyr did Tristan's tattoos?"
"Indeed. Tristan said it was something his tribe did, but he had been taken by the Romans before their shaman could apply the marks. So Bedwyr obliged instead. He finished his term of service two years after we arrived – so there wasn't much anyone could do to stop him, even if they did disapprove."
"Hmm. And he stayed for the love of a good woman."
"Indeed. I know of no other Sarmatian who has done so."
"Any current knights who might also stay?"
"If Vanora has her way, then Bors isn't going anywhere once the baby is born."
"And he will naturally pressure Dagonet to stay with him as they are cousins." Kation said with a smile.
They entered the barracks and an all-too-familiar voice halted their progress back to Tristan's room.
"Well, well… isn't this sweet?"