The next few days passed in a blur as my body reached feverish flashes that engulfed me in sweat and heat. My mouth was always dry as a brittle rock, no matter how much water I drank, and I recognized the cause for these symptoms. My wound had somehow gotten infected, the skin around it a bruised and decaying fruit color. Something had managed to enter the injury, and now I was ill from it.
There'd been feverish moments where I'd awake in the night to see Hael had left me. A few times, I had almost called for him. I supposed it was frightening being left alone, unable to defend myself should I have to. I used to be brave. Used to be capable. But I'd lost all those qualities during the last twelve years I'd been spoiled as a Prince. Because I had been spoiled. My family hadn't liked me, but they'd certainly taken good care of me. I hadn't wanted or needed for anything. And there'd been no reason for me to fight. No reason to look after myself.
Anything I wanted had been accessible to me.
With Hael nowhere in sight, I would go to sleep, wondering where he'd gone. Then the rising sun would stir me awake so I could open my eyes to him kneeling beside me, dabbing the sweat away from my face with a damp cloth, or carefully getting water into me. Sometimes I'd even kept my eyes closed to see how he'd act when he believed me to be asleep.
It was strange.
Whenever my eyes had been closed, I would feel his fingers trace softly along the scar on my face, then graze down my neck to reach the other, and it would take everything in me not to flinch. Only one other person had touched my scars before. Not at all disgusted by them or intimidated or pitying me. Typically, people avoided even looking at them unless they were humored and open to mocking me, except for my doctor. But my scars flawed me, made my outer shell challenging to gaze at. They proved I was incapable and weak. Even my biological parents hadn't wanted to touch them after they'd healed, fearing they'd hurt me by doing so.
But this strange man, who killed people and fled, touched my scars almost eagerly, appreciatively, as though commending me for the effort it had taken to receive them. And I was ashamed to think that his touch against them felt… nice.
My eyes were currently closed, and his hand was on me, but not touching my scar exclusively. No, his cold palm was cupping my fevered cheek, his finger curling around my ear in an eerily familiar way. It felt oddly comforting, and my stomach knotted with something strange.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you," Hael whispered. He spoke as though we were familiar. "You don't know the violence it took to make me this way."
My heart tripped and fell in my chest, and I had to chase my next breath after his confession. I waited a few more nervous moments—my chest impossibly still as I squeezed my lungs—for another admission of his. When Hael said nothing else, I pretended to stir so he would have enough time to pull his hand away before I opened my eyes.
He did, and he was standing when I peeled open my gaze, loading something onto his horse. My eyes caught on his bare arms and the prominent scars slashed across them in every direction. Some grey and muted, others raised and the color of his flesh.
I blinked quickly and realized it was because I'd wanted to cry at the sight of them. The anguish they must've caused had my chest rising and falling in a rush of sympathy. Sympathy Hael did not deserve, but that did not stop the emotional storm from ruining me. For him.
I lowered my eyes to his attire to give myself something else to focus on before I could shamefully break down in front of him.
This bright morning, Hael wore a sleeveless black tunic with a fitted collar that concealed his neck. Hanging from his shoulders was a sheer grey cape that danced across the ground elegantly at every inch of movement. It was as though he was royalty himself. I supposed it was warmer today, but I still believed it was too chilly to forgo an outer garment. Hael's skin was always so cold. Did that mean he did not feel the chill?
He looked even taller today in his straight-legged pants, the fluid black fabric draping over the laces of his dark boots. A silver-chained belt kept the garment secure around his hips, the excess chain dangling like jewelry. I tore my gaze from him and realized Hael had packed everything away except for the things he'd been using to care for me.
His stark-green gaze was neutral when it met me. "Time to get going."
Swallowing dryly, I gingerly sat forward. "Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see when we get there."
He came beside me and crouched. With his head tilted, those rebellious waves twisted like curls around his eyes. Free-spirited, his hair did as it pleased while the wind tossed through it. Hael studied my face much too briefly for me to comment on it before his eyes settled on mine. "Would you like to bathe before we leave?"
I nodded slowly. Any faster, and my head would spin.
Hael gazed down at the length of my body. He'd given me new garments to change into a couple of days ago, but I hadn't bathed since my final day in the castle.
"Can I touch you?" he asked.
"If I tell you no, will you listen?"
"You can't make it to the water on your own yet."
I felt stubbornness ignite a passionate flame in me. "I can try."
Hael cocked his head to study me intricately, but he did give me the space to try to stand on my own. I was successful but dizzy on my feet, ultimately falling against the chestnut for support. I was sick and in need of medicine, but I was sure my captor cared not enough about me to consider it.
Hael's arm curled around my waist before I could wheeze from standing for the first time in hours. I hated how natural it felt to lean against him. I was tall, and he was a bit taller, ensuring it was nice to trust he could carry my weight.
No.
Not nice.
Nothing about this was nice.
I relied on Hael because I had to, but I would never forget that he'd been the catalyst for all my suffering.
"Here is fine," I muttered when my bare feet touched the edge of the fresh lake water. "I need privacy."
Hael nodded and released me, although remaining much too close by. "Do you…need help undressing?"
"No," I bit out, and he flinched from the whip of my tone, that bright gaze turning doe and innocent enough to have me softening against my better judgment. "Just have my clothes ready for me…please."
After another dutiful nod, Hael lingered a few moments longer to ensure I could stand on my own before he walked off. He didn't travel far, only leaning against his horse with his back towards me. And mildly grateful, I felt, that he hadn't gone far enough that I would have had to strain my voice to call for him.
I carefully slipped off my clothes and bandages, tossing them further onto the shore so they didn't get wet. Then, I slid deep enough into the frigid water that it reached my chest. I shivered in the depth of it, even my wound tightening at the bite of cold, but I supposed it was good to calm my fever. So, I sighed and dunked my head beneath the surface to drench my hair. It was heavier when I returned to the surface.
After soaking, I approached the shallow end of the water to bathe properly and cleanse my hair with the soap bar Hael had given me. I didn't scrub around my wound, instead letting the soap run down my body to reach it. I furthered deep into the water once I was finished and called for him.
Hael returned to me quickly, as though he'd been waiting for my command. A fresh set of clothing and bandages were piled in his hands.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
He looked tired when I really focused my gaze on him. I wondered if he was weary from taking care of me or from wherever he'd gone off to at night when he hadn't been with me.
After I gave a brief nod, Hael set the clothes on a flat rock, gathered my soiled ones, and then returned to his area behind the horse while I exited the water. I stretched carefully for a few minutes while my body dried. And I was utterly shocked when I noticed the clothes Hael had prepared for me were the royal garments I'd had on the day the castle had burned to embers. My beige tunic was free from blood, and the tears in my loose pants were repaired. Even the outer robe was pristinely white and appeared untouched like soaring clouds. It was as though my garments had never been touched by the graveness of blood and ash.
I bandaged myself and dressed quickly, then approached the horse. Hael's shoulders twitched at the sound of my steps, and he turned around, our gazes reaching across the small back of the chestnut.
"I would have helped you over here," he said, his voice always so quiet and gentle. A soft melody clinging to each one of his words.
"My clothes are clean. And repaired," I quietly stated.
Caught off guard, Hael's crescent eyes widened a fraction. "It appears so."
"Did you restore them for me?" Or maybe he'd employed someone else to do it during his nightly adventures. But how come? Why go through all that work for me?
Hael's eyes met mine timidly across the horse, and a gasp left me at how honest he looked. So, he had been the one to restore my clothes.
"Why did you do it?" I asked him, and his answer was a creeping mauve tint affecting his cheeks.
I tilted my head, studying the flush, how ill-fitting but innocent, and dared I think adorable, he looked with it. A murderer and my captor, adorable with color across his cheeks. Whenever I gazed into his eyes, they were hard. They could be neutral, too, but other times, like now, they were doe and so soft, regarding me purely and with an emotion I didn't want to recognize because it stirred something strange in me.
Something almost loving.