Fatima was feeling hesitant. Her stomach rolled with the psychic scent of the place. It wasn’t right here. She clung to Sybl’s arm as he placed her feet into the soft sand. She would have loved to take off her shoes and run into the waves. But this was a solemn place. She turned her eyes up to Sybl and then to the mouth of the cave. Therein lay something hiding from her sight, something powerful and masked. And for the first time since they had left, she wondered if she made the right decision.
Sybl was feeling awfully commanding at that moment. His dear Queen clung to him. And though he did not like to see her in such a state of discomfort, he took secret glee in that he was her safe place. He felt the insistent, sharp message from Saetan and that glee deflated. Ah yes, there was the bear to contend with.
‘She is a healer, and from the smell of things you need one.’ His tone was breezy and he tried to show, through feeling along the psychic thread, that there was nothing for Saetan to fear from his little Queenling. He turned his eyes down to Fatima.
‘Come with me,’ he said as he lead her toward the mouth of the cave.
‘It doesn’t want me,’ came her shaky response and he immediately put his arm around her shoulders pulling her close. The fear he felt on her was boiling his blood in a way he could not recognize. His senses became sharp and he felt anxious - too much energy with no outlet.
‘It will be alright,’ he soothed.
‘Calm down a little, you are terrifying her. She is just here to help.’ There was a slight sterness in his tone, a bite to his voice he had never used with Saetan before. It came from that odd, clawing animal inside of him of which he knew not how to control.
Within the cave came a sharp intake of breath as the two drew near. While Saetan could only make out the outline of Sybl and the woman, he knew that scent. It stank of fear, but it had then too. Fear and outrage.
”Help? Her?” He spoke aloud that time, his voice bitter as he narrowed the golden eyes in slight disbelief. Sybl was not one to be caught unaware by a Black Widow and in truth, Saetan had been stunned by the younger Warlord Prince’s sharp words.
”Did you bring her ‘cousin’ along as well? He seemed keen to put a knife into me. I might even welcome it this time around.” It was unkind to say such, but Saetan was in a great deal of pain. Which was because he had caused a distraction so the little Queen hanging on Sybl’s arm could get out of that bookshop without Laska calling for her head. Not so she could walk into another mess! Had he misjudged her so badly?
Fatima thought she recognized the voice and the psychic scent but things were so mixed up here she was having a difficult time deciphering anything. It all felt so very wrong. And she was absolutely not wanted. Maybe she shouldn’t have come? Silly, foolish girl. She always said she was going to be good and not just run off but as soon as the moment of truth came what did she do? Run right into danger. It was amazing she was still alive, quite honestly.
‘Cousin? No, I’ve brought no one else.’ They stood at the mouth of the cave, darkness dwelling in its depths. He created a link between the three of them so what he spoke to one the other could hear - as if he were to speak aloud.
“I promise I’m not here to hurt you. Let me help please.” She spoke softly, pulling away from Sybl. The action set him on edge, she could feel him tense up and he made a feeble attempt to keep her close. But he did not restrain her. She took a few steps into the cave, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. And there he sat, the Black. Her breath hitched and she took an involuntary step back as if she had been slapped. Fear coursed through her veins and her heart screamed for her to bolt. Run. This man would mean her death!
But the healer inside of her, the part of her head which controlled the irrational self, said that she needed to stay. So she calmed her breathing and took the step forward again. He was a mess, that much she could tell.
“I should probably change, I don’t want to get the beautiful new dress you bought for me to get soiled.” She turned and smiled at Sybl.
“In the meantime could you get a fire going in here? I shall return shortly.”‘As you wish,’ Sybl said before setting about to collect bits of driftwood.
Saetan was a bit stunned by the change in attitude. The Queen he had met had been, to put it bluntly, hideous. True, he had suspected it to be a disguise though what troubled him more was the spell he felt coiled around her. A lure cast by a Black Widow to draw a Court to a Queen. To bind a Court to a Queen, but why would anyone-? He watched, unable to get a word in edgewise as the woman sent Sybl off to collect wood. The spell was wrapped about her as it had been with the ‘cousin’. Not a binding, but a lure for certain. How often had he used them himself? Though his was more of a romantic nature. Not this subtle game of angling. Fishing.
”Little Queen… What Black Widow wove that spell-?” The words were strained as he pushed himself up again, needing to see what the strange Queen was doing. More than to just see what she was doing, if he was honest with himself. But this entire set up stank of a trap.
She went off to someplace she felt was private and vanished the beautiful grey dress from her body before summoning much more simple garb. Cotton trousers in dark brown and a loose tunic in soft green. It was cinched at her waist by a leather belt. She went barefoot. No need for shoes in the sand. She came back as Sybl had begun to kindle a fire. She had grim determination set on her face. She would help him, no matter what it cost her own being. But she was
NOT going to like it.
She lifted white gold eyes to meet his gold before averting them quickly.
“What spell?” she asked as she summoned the trunk of her arts to her.
“I’ll need you to undress.” Her tone was even but her heart was thumping madly. He terrified her and she would have to touch him. He could kill her stone dead.
Calm.She breathed deeply and began rummaging through her trunk. When she lifted her eyes again she found he had not done her bidding. The sharp healer’s tongue left her lips before she could stop it.
“Undress, I promise you’ve not got anything I haven’t seen before.” The sharpness of the tone was lent power by her fear. Breathing again she decided she should add some levity to the situation. Everything was less scary if you laughed at it.
“If you do, I’ll throw a stick at it. Fair?”Throw a stick at it? Was this woman insane? Most likely as she wasn’t running in fear.
”I’d rather you not throw anything at me.” The large man growled in annoyance, pushing himself so he was sitting fully and began to unbutton the dress shirt, though Fatima could see the blood that ruined it. As he lowered it from his arms, the shredded back and shoulders were seen. His chest was not much better off, though the wounds seemed done with a knife rather than a whip. Blood seeped from the wounds while he arched a brow.
”I can assure you, they did nothing lower. Unless you would like to inspect there as well for any wounds?” His words were tart and unamused as he frowned deeply.
”You are a pawn in a Black Widows game and do not know it… Perhaps Dorothea put you as a lure for me.” That would explain it, but what of her cousin or Sybl? Those pulls were also there, but he had no interest in either man. Still he watched the Healer-Queen’s face for any hint that she knew more than she said.
The sight of his wounds caused a pang of empathy in her heart which mightily drove back her fear. She picked up the ruined shirt and tossed it into the flames.
“No, I’ll believe you. It is your own fault should your… organ become infected then.” A joke? She wasn’t rightly sure. She didn’t like the way he was asking her about Black Widows. It put her friend in jeopardy to even speak of her. From the trunk she pulled a cloth and doused it in a sharp smelling liquid before approaching him.
“I am so sorry but this is going to hurt.” She knelt behind him and gently dabbed at the wounds. The stinging astringent she had put on the cloth to quell the bleeding was not kind. She placed a hand lightly on his shoulder and did her best to use her healing ability to block back the pain. She did not want to use up too much power just yet. It was going to take some work to ensure some of these wounds did not leave lasting scars.
“I am no pawn of Dorothea’s,” she said, perhaps a bit too harshly. Her tongue spit her name as if it were poison.
“I am my own woman,” She worked slowly down his back, her other hand following to dull pain.
“No lures, no nothing. I am simply here to help you.” And take you to Kaeleer… She wouldn’t and couldn’t make the man go anywhere. She had a moment of clarity that showed her how fortuitous this meeting had been - should she take the initiative. Not yet. Certainly not yet.
As she dabbed at his wounds, Saetan jerked slightly from the ointment then held himself still. Still, he did not want to move so fast and scare this Queen. Though it made him wonder. She seemed to have no idea the spell wrapped about her. Not at the bookstore, nor in this cave. Glancing towards Sybl he sent a thought on a male thread.
”How did you find this Queen-?” Aloud he gave a soft chuckle.
”Yes, and you also were simply looking for a book.” He felt the pain dulling and felt surprised. For a Queen she knew healing craft more than he had thought. A Healer and a Queen who seemed to hate Dorothea? More than that, she was alive and the twisted rulers of Hyall hadn’t murdered her in the cradle. He was impressed. Wary and suspicious, but Saetan would admit that it took skill and some crafty thinking. Even if this was all a ploy.
She finished his back and moved around to the front. The cloth was stained deep red but it did not hinder her. Her brows furrowed as she worked, her main concentration on the task at hand.
“Book?” she asked, confused. Their first meeting. That’s right.
“That was obviously a lie, as you know.” After a pause she looked up to meet his gaze.
“This is not a lie. I am here to help.” She then returned to her work, hand running down the flesh of his chest while the other cleaned wounds.
‘She came into town with her group of friends. She sent an Emissary to meet with Alice and they are to have a meal together at some point. Alice appointed me to watch over her. Naturally I obeyed. What I had not expected was that she would be mine.' He poked nonchalantly at the fire, keeping it built to bring warmth to their small area of the cave. The way he said mine was with such zealous fervor, though not romantic or sexual… More like how a man speaks about God after he has lost his way. He was watching them with hawk like, predatory precision - a wrong move from Saetan surely spelling Sybl’s death. For the man would likely attack the Black without the slightest understanding of why.
”Yours… Sybl, are you certain? She is, and you are, wrapped in a Black Widow’s web.” Saetan’s psychic voice was gentle as he tried not to ruffle the mute man’s ruffled feathers. Sybl was a good man, but he was a Warlord Prince and if he thought that this Queen was his? He would defend her.
”I’m more interested in the truth.” Saetan crooned in a dangerous silky tone. The wounds across his chest were slightly deeper around his middle. Laska’s fury had only grown til she took the knife herself.
‘Certain as the night,’ he responded curtly. He did not much like being questioned about his assuredness of this. How long had he waited and pined? How many times had he thought he’d felt it? And now, here it was, nestled deeply in his heart, twisting the pit of his stomach. He was sure.
She barely heard him at first, carefully working on the deep wounds in a way that would clean them and cause minimum hurt. It was a moment later that she realized he had spoken.
“Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose most people would be,” she said in an offhand sort of way. She was bored by the conversation and much more absorbed in her work. Fatima set aside the cloth and took up a new one. This one she doused with clean water to gently wipe away the caked blood from his body. Fatima was back at her trunk and pulled out a large, squat container. When she opened it an earthy, fresh smell greeted their noses.
“Again, it will hurt. I will do my best to allay it.” She swiped a hand over a cut and it fell numb beneath her touch. She could only do this in short bursts and took a lot of her concentration. She worked smearing the salve into the wounds before the numbing completely wore off. The concoction was designed to do its own numbing but burned horrendously first. Sometimes the numbing of her abilities did not last as long as it took for the burning to completely subside. She made sure to do the worst of the cuts first, while her concentration was at its peak. A sheen of sweat covered her brow as she did this with each gash.
Saetan gasped as the wound was packed with salve, which smelled better than it felt. Gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached, he snarled deep in his throat. Even as she numbed it, the feel of his cuts being filled with the stuff, the smell… It was less than pleasant. Grateful for the numbing he felt himself begin to sweat as that sweet bliss faded to leave the wounds burning. The growl in his throat became a roar as one particularly deep cut trailed fresh blood down his side as it was packed.
”Lady, if you mean to kill me there are less painful ways to repay me for distracting those guards.” Saetan gasped out, his arms shaking as he braced himself.
His roar caused her to jump back, surprise etched into her features. Then concern.
“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I must not have numbed that enough.” She immediately put her hands over the wound and pumped power there, pulling relieving feeling from the spot. She grasped his hand then and looked worriedly into his face.
“There, is that better? I am sorry, I fear using too much of myself now before the real healing takes place. I beg your patience.” She released his hand and gently dabbed the blood away. Back to work. She was nearly finished with the wounds.
Sybl bristled with the roar, his whole body tensed. Each muscle winding up to release like a spring. His eyes flash dangerously but then came Fatima’s response. Her calm and concern caused him to fall back and he had to wonder why he was in such a touchy mood. Especially around a friend.
”Keep going.” Saetan growled roughly, his eyes closing tightly. Trying to push the pain to the side. It worked only partly, but for Fatima it took his mind completely away from the puzzle she represented.
”Sybl… Why don’t you go keep watch? On my word, I will not harm your Queen.” It was worded as a suggestion, but the tone was a order.
Sybl huffed but felt it was a good suggestion. Perhaps a good sea breeze would clear the clutter from him. He was too tightly wound and so he stood and left the place to stand outside. He wasn’t sure if not seeing her was worse than watching them. Here he could do nothing to protect her, should Saetan strike. No, he would believe his friend. He brushed a hand through silky black locks and looked out to the sunlit sea.
She nodded briefly and continued her work until all of the wounds had been properly coated in the salve. Fatima produced a needle and thread - she was a deep believer in some of the landen healing arts aiding in proper recovery. The salve would have caused sufficient numbing to allow her to sew the flesh closed - he would feel slight pressure, perhaps an occasional prick.
“What will you do after this?” she inquired. The sewing took less concentration than numbing had.
”Kill Queens.” The answer was brief and one eye opened to watch the woman as he held himself sitting by will alone. Gasping as he felt the numbed pain of the needle, Saetan glared at the Queen.
”Do you know what you are doing?” He was beginning to wonder.
She winced at his reply but continued her work. Maybe some of them deserved it. She paused to look up at him, pulling the thread through to bring flesh together.
“Yes. I use less power to knit your flesh shut when it already touches. The body does the best healing all on its own. My job is to guide it.” She bent her head and continued the stitches. Sewing put her in a trance-like state.
“It is not the first time I have sewed closed wounds. And I have had my fair share of fixing ones worse than this. Life and Queens are not kind.” What was making her tongue so honest? She felt like she should have nothing to hide before the Black.
”What Hayllian Queen heals wounds? Wouldn’t you rather enjoy your time with good companions?” Saetan spoke softly, to not disturb the young Queen and to coax the answer out of her. The truth. He was feeling that pull of the lure towards this Queen, but with the spell of a Black Widow in place? How could he trust it? STill, Fatima would be able to see his pale face, the blood that streaked the stone bench and the floor of the cave. He had lost quite a bit and resting had helped, but it would take more.
She laughed lightly,
“I suppose the kind that comes to the aid of a complete stranger - even if he could mean her death.” She sighed, and shook her head slightly.
“And who says that those who are in need of healing are not good company. I amputated the leg of a farmer once - his ox had gotten spooked and pulled the plow over him - and the whole time he told me jokes and stories about his life before.” She bit off a thread and moved on to the next gash.
“I lived a long time among the people of Terrielle. My happiest days were when I was among the low trodden. I may not have had enough to eat, I may have been beaten… but I had the kindness of friends and people I considered family.” She paused to look up at him again.
“Hold on a little longer. We are nearly there. Tell me a story while I work. Will help to keep you awake.” She dipped behind him to start sewing on his back.
Beaten? Not enough to eat? What sort of Queen was this? And she was a Queen, there was no mistaking that. He was growing more curious and more ready to hunt down this Black Widow to find out what spell had been cast, and why.
”A story?” He thought, his eyes tired as he tried to ignore the pain.
”I knew a Queen once. She enjoyed gardening, and testing out new spells. She was a young Queen and growing in her power. Her court however, kept changing. The men were always eager to come and serve her, but grew bored. She was never one for parties. Hated any celebration. Hated any social function. Give her a garden and she would never leave it, would have been happy spending days planting and growing things. Leiland was a sweet woman. She would have made a good queen for a village, but her fair and good hand kept her rising up through the ranks of the Blood. More than she wanted.” Saetan trailed off, remembering Leiland in those terrible days before he had left her court. He should have stayed, but he didn’t feel the call to serve her and she knew it. They both had known what was coming. That Leiland would rise to Territory Queen of Dharo. A large and prosperous territory and Leiland could not refuse that need to serve her people. In the end, it had destroyed the woman. Drained her of all her happiness and joy, and Saetan wished he had stayed, despite his youth. To give the sweet woman some laughter as her court grew more grim.
”She did however have one other great flaw. Terrible fear of birds.” In fact, it had been such a fear she had paid a servant to keep a shield over the garden whenever she had time for it. The one time a bird had been inside the shield, Saetan had thought the Queen would kneel over in terror.
“Fear of birds?” she said with a soft laugh,
“Completely understandable.” They could be quite rotten when they felt their young threatened. She knotted off the last thread and stood.
“Very good, we’ve made it to the end. Now comes the hard part for me and the easy one for you.” She straddled the bench and indicated he should do the same.
“Lean on me as much as you need,” she stated. She then placed her hands on his chest and closed her eyes.
“Sybl, please come keep the fire,” she called. He obeyed readily and watched.
This was the part she most enjoyed but was the most draining. She took a few slow breathes, Her psychic thread melted into him, along with her hands. It was as if they existed just beneath his skin, entwined with muscle but causing no dent or pain. Her thread spread out along his natural network and began to knit back together the parts of him rent. She needed the warmth of the flame for her body, as it quickly grew cold with exertion. Sybl did not know this and did not know to keep the flame high. But she was not cold in the area her hands met his chest, for she was a part of him there. But the rest of her left with the tendrils which now knitted him, leaving her body freezing.
His flesh, at first slowly, began to heal. As time passed the healing became more pronounced. A calm energy soothed hurts, numbed pains, and offered its self up entirely and completely. Take what you need from me - and a healing body always took. After fifteen minutes his wounds were healed in such a way as to allow him movement with no pain - though true exertion or stretching would have caused the delicate seams to split. The rest was up to his body.
She removed her hands from him and sat back. She felt tired and bleary. She opened her eyes and blinked. Had it always been so bright? She rubbed her eyes and stood. Fatima swayed just a moment before she approached the trunk to get gauze, wrappings, and a final salve for the wounds. She plunked back down on the bench harder than she intended. Wincing from the pain in her tail bone she set back to work - salve over the wounds, gauze, and then wrapping to keep it in place. She found she was having trouble keeping her hands from shaking terribly. She was cold, frozen to the core. She was tired, down to the marrow of her bones. But she would finish this task.
Saetan felt better by far as his body was mended, but he, too, felt a toll. In part, it was from the blood loss, in part from keeping awake far too long. Slumping slightly, he watched the Queen stagger to her trunk and back again, working to wrap the gauze about his wounds. But her hands were shaking… Frowning, Saetan gripped her hands and pulled her close. Rubbing the small fingers.
”Sybl… We need a larger fire.” Hoping the man would hear his psychic communication, Saetan pulled Fatima closer. Standing to guide the witch closer to the fire.
”You’ve done enough, witchling. Let Sybl take care of the rest.” His hands rubbed at her arms, attempting to warm the too cold body.
His body was so warm. The hands wrapped around hers… They thrilled shivers of delight for the warmth. His arms then pulling her close... She nearly clung to him. The instinctual part of her took over and she nestled readily against him. Warmth. Heat. She craved them badly.
“Your wraps… they’re not… done,” she mumbled drunkenly. She did not resist his steering. She dropped to the sand by the fire, her body desperate for the warmth it provided. She would have thrown herself upon it if the preserving part of her had not insisted this was a bad idea. So she sat, still, shivering, eyes locked on flame.
Sybl was quite concerned, watching his Queen sway that way. She shook. It was most terrifying. It was as if someone had dropped an iceberg into his gut. To see her so drained was distressing. The Warlord within him roared and searched for something to blame and maim. But his worry kept him in check. He stoked the fire as high as he could. There was not much wood to be had at the beach. He finished tying off Saetan’s wraps haphazardly before leaving the pair in front of the flames and going in search of more wood, moving further inland to get the precious material.
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