The Weaver's Source

Chapter 29

I looked up when Arthur came back, carrying a large bucket and thick blanket. He was without his cloak now, revealing a young, handsome face framed with long, damp blond hair. It surprised me. I wasn't sure what I expected but not someone pleasant to look at. He smiled at me and was about to offer the towel when Grigore took it from him. Arthur simply smiled and took the heavy bucket he carried with ease to the tub.

I sat there, perfectly still and trying to smother my shivers, as Grigore rubbed the towel over my cold skin, bringing some sensation back to my body and burning away some of the cold. He carefully ruffled my hair then let the now damp towel to drape over my shoulders. He observed my face again and his frown deepened.

"How are you feeling?" Grigore asked me.

I hesitated. My body quite honestly felt frozen yet my head was hot, making me hurt, but I didn't want to tell him that.

"I'm fine." I lied quietly.

"Good." He said with his eyes growing annoyed. "Now answer it honestly."

I sighed heavily and gave in. "I don't feel right, Grigore."

He nodded then turned to Arthur who had just finished organising the tub. "Do you have any medicine? Something for fevers."

Arthur glanced at me, taking a good look at my face and sickly pallor, and then nodded with a worried frown. "I do. I'll bring you some."

Grigore simply grunted then picked me up again. I shivered a little. He was drenched and cold, perhaps colder than I was; I didn't understand why he didn't feel it. He placed me gently on my feet by the tub and held my shoulders when I wobbled threateningly, my frozen body shaking lightly.

"Bathe until you're warm again." He ordered. I couldn't help but notice his thumbs were moving, brushing my skin softly, almost lovingly, as he held me still, a complete contrast to his tone. "Chuck your clothes on top of the divider. I'll get them dried while you warm yourself."

I nodded stiffly but instantly frowned, my face turning redder than it already was as I realised that, if I struggle to just rid myself from my clothes, I wouldn't be able to undo the corset by myself. It was difficult enough even when my hands worked well; the hooks needed strength to get them to let go of one another. He watched me impatiently, sensing my hesitation.

"What is it?"

I simply remained as I was, my back to him, and tugged lightly at the corsets binding hooks running the length of my stomach.

"I need help with the hooks." I murmured, my voice shaking from cold and nerves.

I felt him still behind me and the motions of his thumbs froze. His gaze slipped over me, as if only realising the state of undress I was in. He sighed sharply in defeat and his hand left my shoulder, only to pull me into his chest when I wobbled again.

"Keep steady, Lyra." He muttered, his tone oddly husky.

I leaned into him, trying my best not to shake so much, to not notice how big he was compared to me, swallowing me up with his arms and strength, his scent swelling around me gently and his taut muscles firm against my back. I was supposed to be angry at him for being so cold recently but it was difficult when I felt him gently touch me, cradling me into him as his fingers worked apart the hooks. I clutched at the front of my corset, shivering gently and red cheeked but knowing it wasn't just from the cold anymore.

 The last hook came undone. Grigore didn't pull away at first. He continued to hold me, pressing me into his chest, his fingers dancing softly along the naked line of my stomach, his magic swirling about him like a sensual storm, calling to my own, then he roughly let me go and moved himself to the other side of the divider without another word.