Tainted

Chapter Thirty-Two

I'm getting ready to head to breakfast when my makeshift cast catches on a tent pole splinter, unraveling.

"Kata," I curse. I unwrap the linens, the two wooden splints falling to the ground. I pick them up and wedge one piece between the tent pole and my arm, and the other between my arm and my chest, trying to keep them in place.

"Kata," I curse again, as one falls.

"Ah, is that the sweet voice of our damsel in distress?" Rogue asks, sauntering through the tent flaps. He's wearing vivid green today, every article tailored to fit each one of his curves.

I try not to watch him walk toward his medical bag.

"Not a damsel in distress," I grumble, "just a momentarily inconvenienced girl."

"Mhmm," Rogue intones. He takes fresh bandages from his medical bag.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" He tucks the bandages below his arm and takes hold of my wrist in his hands.

I bite my lip against the coming thrill of his fingers against my skin. I've managed to successfully avoid him for two days. If not for this gods-damned arm, I could avoid him even more.

"Does it hurt?" he asks seriously, looking at my teeth on my lip.

"A little bit," I answer honestly, "but not as much as before."

Rogue gingerly fingers the bone, feeling for anything out of place.

"It's still mending correctly. You'll need to keep it in the splint for another five weeks."

I thought as much. But with Tanymede's training, I'm feeling much stronger. I'll give myself another week to heal and make sure every bone sets properly, before I leave Haven for the Laplands.

And then come back, I think. Maybe.

"Thank you for all you've done," I say. I mean it.

A quick, authentic smile crosses Rogue's lips before disappearing. "I can't have my best bladeswoman momentarily inconvenienced," he says.

"Oh, is that all I'm good for? My skill with a blade?" I ask, secretly feeling pleased.

"Tanymede says you're quite skilled. I don't believe it, of course. I'll need to see some proof." Rogue ties the final knot on the new bandages. Once again they're snug, but comfortable.

"You'd like to see how I handle a long, pointy object?" I ask.

Rogue's eyes darken. "Yes," he says, suddenly very interested.

I lean in close to his ear. "Good, then why don't you find me, because I don't see any here."

I back away and smirk at Rogue's displeased expression.

"Laugh all you want, Thief, but you don't know what you're talking about." He bends and gathers up the used bandages, his golden cape gliding across his waist.

"You should save those," I say, indicating the used bandages.

Rogue straightens. "Do you think I'm going to throw these away? It's called a wash basin, Thief," he says. "I'll wash them and then reuse them." He deposits the bandages in a basket by his things. "Speaking of wash basins," Rogue says, "have you considered using one?"

The scant clothes I have are clustered haphazardly around my bed mat. My cheeks burn with shame. The clothes must reek of sweat. I've worn them for sentry duty and training with Tanymede, all done beneath the burning sun of Gillian Fields.

"I...don't know how," I say. I dig my toe into the sand.

Rogue looks up at me. "Oh," he says, his voice lacking its usual barb. "I can teach you. Tonight, before dinner, we'll wash our clothes and then set them out to dry."