A Knight Well Spent. Jackie Ivie

      She glanced at him and then back to her supplies. “’Tis linden flower and mistletoe to make a paste for his teeth. I dinna’ know how many are loose. I am checking.”

      “What good is this paste?” he asked.

      She shrugged. “It takes away pain. And lessens swelling.”

      “He cannot feel pain. He’s yet to awaken from my blow.”

      “True.” Aislynn dipped a finger of the herb mixture and filled Brent’s lips with it. The liege had loosened four teeth that she found, two seriously. If the man gave them time to heal, they’d seat themselves again without trouble. The paste would help.

      She finished and ran her fingers lightly down the bridge of Brent’s nose. It was crooked.

      “What is it you do now?” he asked.

      “It needs straightening. It will heal faster and look better for him.”

      “What is it to you, how it looks?” His voice wasn’t the same warmly embracing tone. It was cold.

      Aislynn moved her hands to her lap and watched them. “The same I have for any creature in need; even a creature of prey. I know it will attack again, yet I still heal it. Because a gift is na’ something to spit in the face of. ’Tis exactly as I did this morn. To you.”

      He didn’t say anything for long enough, Aislynn had time to wring her hands, run them over her hips, tuck a lock of hair back behind her ear, and then glance in the direction he’d last moved to.

      “Finish,” he said.

      She went onto her knees, put a hand on either side of Brent’s nose, placed her fingertips along it and said the silent words of prayer. Then she was gripping his nose and wrenching it sideways, using both wrists. The result was an instant release of blood all over her. “Quickly! Hand me the peat!”

      He was on one knee beside her, putting the crumbles of dried moss in her hand and pulling back the moment he did so. Aislynn forced herself to ignore it. Then she was packing the moss into Brent’s nose, stopping the bleeding, and putting it back into alignment. Through it all, she was aware of the liege watching, his eyes boring into her.

      “Have you finished?” he asked, when she was satisfied and sat back on her haunches to look at Brent.

      She nodded. “It will heal well if he keeps still. I must make certain he rests without moving.”

      “You’re coming with me. You’re bathing his blood from yourself and finding suitable clothing. A serf can stay with him.”

      “I am a serf,” Aislynn answered softly.

      His voice lowered further. “Oh no. I don’t know what you are as yet, nor do I know all that you are. Of one thing I’m certain, though. You’re no serf.”