Page 67 of Firebird
“Don’t you want to do it yourself? To be sure it’s done well.”
She eyed me from head to toe, seeming to take my measure. “There are many dying soldiers and officers who need tending.” She stood and shrugged a shoulder. “Besides, it is known the general has a body slave with him. Something he has never had before. He will prefer you doing the mending of his body.”
Then she left. I stared after her, open-mouthed. For a brief moment, I wondered what others were saying about me, about the slave Julian had brought on campaign. Likely, they assumed I was his sex slave. That seemed the only reason a general would bring a female body slave on a war campaign.
The thought of their gossip stung for only a second until I realized the truth. I wasn’t an object to Julian. A slave to be used. Since we’d arrived, he hadn’t even touched me, except for a few moments ago when he was delirious with the fever burning through him.
He’d been careful not to touch me. It had been frustrating, since I now longed to feel his calloused hands on my face, my throat, my body.
“Malina?” Koska gestured toward the wound where blood began seeping through the barrier of medicinal herb.
“Yes. Sorry.” I snapped back into action, wiping away the layer of soiled herb dressing. “Go empty the bowl please, Koska.”
He took the water bowl, dark red with Julian’s blood, and left the tent.
After completely cleaning the wound, I settled to pressing the mash of herb along the wound again, relieved to see the blood release was slowing. It was working.
“You’re beautiful.” Julian’s voice startled me again.
Blushing and smiling at the ridiculousness of his compliment at a time like this, I said, “Hush. You need your strength.”
“You are my strength.” His voice was deep and raspy, his breathing labored from the fever.
I finished pressing the second layer of herb all the way to the side of his hip, then wiped my hands and poured some of the clean water onto a fresh rag from the tray Koska had brought. I leaned closer to wipe his sweaty brow.
“You’re talking nonsense, Julian.”
“I haven’t been saying the right words.” His eyes slid shut as I pressed the cool cloth to his brow. “Been wasting time telling stories.”
“I enjoy your stories.” It was true. I loved hearing about his family, his childhood. His parents had been lovely people. We never spoke of their deaths.
“I have to tell you what you are to me,” he mumbled, leaning into my hand as I wiped the cloth along his cheek.
My pulse catapulted faster.
“Shh,” he soothed, his voice sleepy. “Don’t be frightened by it.”
“I’m not frightened,” I said tartly.
His mouth quirked again, even while his eyes remained closed. “You are. But there is no need.” Those golden slits opened and held me captive. “You are my treasure, Malina.”
I huffed out a bitter laugh. “Like a coin.”
“No,” he answered quickly. “We are touched by the gods, you see. With the beast that lives inside us.”
I knew that. Everyone knew that. It was why so many easily bowed to them. They had a power given to them by the gods.
He continued. “We have a sight into the gods’ will like no other creature on earth.”
I wouldn’t refute that but I was sure I had my own connection with the gods’ will. At least whichever one had given me my magic.
“Every dragon waits for his god-given treasure his whole life.” His hand groped on the bed, finding my wrist and wrapping his long fingers around it. “And I have found mine.”
I wanted to brush off his words as fever-addled nonsense. I wanted to reject his declaration and scream at him,the gods would not choose me for you.
But the tether between us tightened, and the witch in my soul whispered,yes. And a comfort like I’d never known wrapped me in warmth and rightness and utter contentment at the realization he was right.
“Shh,” I whispered to him, like he’d done a second before to soothe me. “Get some rest, Julian.”
