366 Days a Captive

Omens of Death and Winds of Change

Chapter Six: Omens of Death and Winds of Change

May woke to the throbbing pain that was her back, trying not to think too much about how used she was getting to being in pain. Gingerly sitting up in bed she was surprised to find a pair of perfectly tended hands grasping her around the midsection and supporting her so that she could sit up.

"Let me fix those." Jim's voice was quiet, devoid of inflection, the professional tone of a skilled diplomat. And yet?

May found she could feel the tremor in his voice more than hear it.

His fingers were surprisingly gentle for someone who pretended to feel nothing, expressing more than any words his uncertainty. May had never had trouble reading people, never felt the need to resort to other methods less cursory than a glance, but with James...

His was a tremor of the hands, a spasm of fingers as they nimbly wrapped around her torso. Calloused hands, rough from sword work despite the apparent vocality of his occupation.

An Ambassador whose skills lay in more areas than his silver tongue.

"What's with the sudden change in helpfulness." May couldn't help the stiffness of her tone, the way that pain made her slightly breathy. James silently looped another gauze around her and she figured he either hadn't heard or was ignoring her.

"I apologize for my earlier behavior." His words were still soft, pitched for her ears only. Not for the first time, May wondered if the walls had ears. They looked organic enough.

"Apology accepted." May grinned, trying to think about anything other than the maddening feeling of his arms around her, the sweet tingle of fingers brushing against her bared skin, the sour electricity of her injured back.

"You forgive too easy." James' tone was half tease, half admonishment. May took a moment to contemplate the old adage about Bloodstones being temperamental and wondered if there were any to describe the being behind her, a man who could be both infuriatingly distant and dangerously close in a span of seconds.

"Nah," she replied, "You can never forgive too easy."

She heard a smothered snort behind her and felt a strange sense of delight at the show of emotion. Delight that was strangled at his next question.

"What happened?"

xxx

Jim felt the muscles beneath his fingers bunch in what he could only assume was surprise. How could she think that he would take care of a wound and not want to know what caused it?

Or who.

May's tone was flat, the lie evident in the way she held herself, the stiffness of her shoulders. "I fell down a staircase."

Jim found himself blinking slowly. His voice sounded hollowly confused to his own ears, "A staircase?"

"Yes. It was a nasty tumble, and as you can see, a painful one too." Jim had paused, one hand splayed on her back, feeling the beat of her heart speed with every word. Even if her words hadn't been more than exceedingly careful, her heart would have given her away.

More proof that hearts were quite a weakness.

But Jim let it go. If May didn't want to tell him who had done this...

"Just make sure you avoid more 'staircases'." He neatly tied off the bandages and sat back, surveying his work. It may not have been the masterpiece that the woman in front of him could have tied, but it was functional and in the end, wasn't that what mattered?