Chapter 9: The Aftermath
The courtyard was quiet, save for the occasional clink of armor as soldiers moved about. Dawn had brought a tentative calm to the estate, but it was the kind that hung heavy, like the aftermath of a storm. Amara stood near the entrance to the main hall, watching as the wounded were carried from their horses to makeshift cots arranged in the shade of the walls. Her hands tightened around the folds of her gown as she scanned the faces of the returning soldiers.
Kael dismounted with less grace than usual, his movements stiff and labored. His dark cloak was torn, and a bandage on his upper arm was soaked through with blood. Yet his expression remained impassive as he barked orders to his men, directing them to rest and report on their injuries. Amara didn't wait for an invitation. She hurried toward him, her worry outweighing her hesitation.
"You're hurt," she said, her voice low but urgent as she approached him.
Kael turned to her, his brow furrowed. "It's not as bad as it looks."
"Let me see," she insisted, reaching for his arm.
He hesitated, clearly unaccustomed to being fussed over, but eventually relented. Amara gently peeled back the rough bandage, her breath catching at the sight of the jagged gash across his bicep. The wound was deep, the edges raw and swollen.
"This is worse than you think," she said firmly, meeting his eyes. "You need proper care."
Kael's lips twitched, as if to argue, but he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he allowed her to lead him into the main hall, where a quiet corner had been cleared for the injured.
Amara set him on a sturdy wooden chair near the fire, where the light illuminated the severity of his injury. She gathered a basin of water, clean cloths, and a jar of salve from the supplies she had prepared earlier. As she worked, cleaning and stitching the wound, the silence between them grew heavy but not uncomfortable.
"You've done this before," Kael remarked after a while, his voice rough but quieter than usual.
Amara nodded, focusing on her task. "When I was younger, my mother taught me. She believed every noblewoman should know how to care for others, even if she never had to use the skill."
"She was wise," Kael said, watching her hands as they moved with precision.
Amara paused, glancing up at him. The warmth in his voice caught her off guard. It wasn't something she had heard from him before. "She was," she replied softly, then returned to her work.
As the stitching finished, Kael shifted slightly in his seat, grimacing. Amara caught the movement and frowned. "You should rest," she said, her tone more commanding than she intended. "Your men can manage without you for a few hours."
Kael raised an eyebrow, clearly unused to being ordered around. "I don't have that luxury."
"And yet you'll be no use to anyone if you collapse," she countered, standing and crossing her arms. "Rest, Kael. That's not a suggestion."
For a moment, they stared at each other, a silent battle of wills. Then, to her surprise, Kael let out a low chuckle.
"You're bolder than I gave you credit for," he said, leaning back in the chair. "Fine. I'll rest. But only for a little while."
Amara nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave. Before she could go, Kael's voice stopped her.
"Thank you, Amara," he said, his tone softer than she had ever heard. "For everything."
She looked back at him, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his expression. "You're welcome," she replied, then slipped out of the room.
Over the next several hours, Amara worked tirelessly, moving between the courtyard and the makeshift infirmary. She oversaw the distribution of food and supplies, ensured the villagers were comfortable, and even offered words of encouragement to the wounded soldiers. Her presence was a steadying force, one that many of the men began to notice.
Celia approached her as she handed a bowl of stew to one of the soldiers. "You're going to wear yourself out," Celia said, though there was no real admonishment in her tone. "You've done more than enough."
"It's not enough until everyone is cared for," Amara replied, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "They fought for us. The least I can do is make sure they're looked after."
Celia shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're not what I expected, my lady. And that's a compliment."
Amara offered a faint smile in return, though her thoughts were already elsewhere. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on her, but it also gave her a sense of purpose she hadn't felt before.
From his position near the fire, Kael watched Amara move through the room, her every action purposeful and deliberate. She had a way of commanding attention without demanding it, her quiet determination drawing people to her. He couldn't deny that she had surprised him—more than once now.
Norman approached, his expression thoughtful as he followed Kael's gaze. "She's proving herself, isn't she?"
Kael grunted, though it wasn't dismissive. "She's determined."
"And capable," Norman added. "The men respect her, even if they won't admit it yet."
Kael didn't respond, but inwardly he couldn't help agreeing. Amara was proving to be far more than the sheltered noblewoman he had assumed she was. And despite himself, he was beginning to admire her for it.
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Late that night, as the estate finally began to settle, Amara returned to the infirmary to check on Kael. She found him awake, staring into the fire, his expression pensive.
"You should be asleep," she said, approaching his chair.
Kael glanced up at her, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I could say the same to you."
Amara sat in the chair opposite him, folding her hands in her lap. "I wanted to make sure you were comfortable."
"I've been through worse," he said simply, though his voice lacked its usual edge.
They sat in silence for a moment, the crackle of the fire filling the space between them. Then Kael spoke, his tone low. "You did well today, Amara. The men... they notice what you've done."
Amara looked at him, surprised by the unexpected praise. "I only did what was necessary."
"That's more than most would have done," he said, meeting her gaze.
For a moment, the walls between them seemed to lower. Amara felt a strange warmth in her chest, a flicker of something she couldn't quite name. She nodded, a soft smile on her lips.
"Thank you, Kael."
As the firelight danced across the room, they sat together, the weight of the day's events settling over them. It was a fragile moment of peace, but one that hinted at something stronger—a bond that was beginning to form, whether they realized it or not.