Chapter 147: A Detour by Moonlight

Chapter 147: Chapter 147: A Detour by Moonlight

Upstairs, Elysia was far from sleeping peacefully.

Her knees ached. Her arm burned beneath its linen wrapping.

And for some reason, she could not settle.

Perhaps she had simply grown used to sleeping beside Cassiel. The empty space beside her felt strangely noticeable tonight, as though the bed itself had grown larger in his absence.

She told herself it was only the ache in her knees.

She turned beneath the covers again and again, until at last she drifted into that hazy border between sleep and waking.

That was when she heard it.

The faint roll of wheels.

The curtain shifted.

Elysia’s eyelids fluttered open.

Moonlight fell through the window across a familiar face.

Cassiel.

For a moment, she could not tell whether she was dreaming.

Her lips parted.

"It hurts."

He leaned closer, his voice low.

"Shall I massage your knees again?"

She nodded.

Then, after a moment, she shook her head.

"What is it?"

But she did not answer. Sleep had already pulled her under again.

Cassiel watched her for a moment.

Was she truly that tired?

He reached for her hand.

The moment his fingers touched her arm, she flinched, and a soft whimper escaped her, though her eyes stayed closed.

His brows drew together.

He carefully pushed up her sleeve.

At the sight of the burn, his expression darkened.

He looked at it for a long moment.

Then the wheels rolled away into the dark.

Elysia stirred at the sound. When she opened her eyes, the bedside was empty.

Must have been a dream then.

She had barely closed her eyes again when the wheels returned.

This time, something cool touched her arm.

She flinched on instinct, bracing for pain.

None came.

The touch was feather-light, careful in a way that suggested the smallest misstep might hurt her. The salve soothed the heat almost at once, and her fingers slowly uncurled.

And this time, instead of sinking back into sleep, she surfaced.

Elysia looked at Cassiel, then at her injured arm.

His long fingers were moving over the burn, spreading the salve in a slow, even layer. His cloak was still on, the shoulders dark with the damp of the night road.

It was not a dream.

The moonlight was real. The cool salve was real. And so was the man bent so carefully over her arm.

She jolted fully awake.

"My lord!"

"I am here."

He did not look up.

"When did you come back?"

She instinctively leaned towards him.

Cassiel caught her shoulder with his free hand and pressed her gently back against the pillows.

"I am applying salve. Do not move."

"Oh."

She settled obediently.

Only when he had finished did he close the porcelain jar. Even then, his gaze lingered on the burn.

"Bertha tells me you refused Doctor Grey."

Elysia’s eyes flicked away.

"It was only a small burn."

"It blistered."

"...A small, blistered burn."

Cassiel looked at her and kept looking.

She held out for three breaths.

"The Marchioness was expected," she admitted. "I did not want to receive her with a physician at my heels. And afterwards, it would have been inconvenient to be seen needing one."

He did not ask what she meant.

He only turned her wrist slightly towards the moonlight and was quiet for a moment.

"Next time," he said, "be inconvenient."

Elysia opened her mouth, found she had no answer, and closed it again.

Cassiel released her wrist.

"You sent Bran back with lily seed soup."

"I did."

"I had some." A faint smile touched his lips. "I came back specifically to praise you."

Elysia blinked.

"Just to praise me?"

"Someone appears to have little confidence in her cooking. How could I not?"

A flush crept up her cheeks.

"I do not lack confidence."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

Cassiel looked unconvinced.

"But that is only part of the reason."

Elysia tilted her head.

There was only one thing she could think of that might drag him an hour through the dark.

"Did you hear the Marchioness had arrived?"

"The steward told me at the door." He loosened the clasp of his cloak at last. "But that is not why I came, either."

Elysia let out a quiet breath.

She had not realised how much she had been dreading that he might say yes.

"Guess again."

She frowned.

Then her eyes widened.

Cassiel’s lips curved.

"Say it."

Her cheeks grew warmer.

"Is the aphrodisiac wine acting up again?" She lowered her voice. "Did you rush back because you wanted to see me?"

Cassiel fell silent.

Was that truly what she thought of him?

After brief consideration, he decided there was no point pretending otherwise.

"Well." His expression remained entirely solemn. "That is part of it."

Elysia stared at him.

"But there is a more important reason."

This time, he did not make her guess.

"I missed you."

The words were so plain that for a moment she did not know where to put them.

Then her mind, unhelpfully, went straight back to the wine.

The wine was making him miss her. Was that not essentially the same thing?

She wisely kept the thought to herself.

"My lord, have your duties at the camp been completed?"

"Not yet. I return at first light."

Elysia’s fingers stilled.

The camp lay beyond the city walls. With his injuries still healing, he could not ride, and a carriage on wet roads took an hour at the very least.

He had spent two hours of a night he needed for sleep on a dark road.

For a bowl of soup, a jar of salve, and a few minutes at her bedside.

Elysia bit her lip.

"My lord, is that... appropriate? I feel a little like a siren leading a hero astray."

A low chuckle escaped him.

"A siren, perhaps. But not one who leads me astray."

Then his expression turned serious.

"And if anyone dares call you that, I shall have their tongue."

That seemed rather excessive.

Elysia wisely decided not to say so.

"And did you see her?" Cassiel asked. "My aunt."

Something in her face must have changed, because his gaze sharpened.

"She is a forthright woman," he said. "But her heart is not unkind."

Elysia looked down at the folds of the blanket.

"When the Marchioness arrived... I sent word that I had already retired. I did not go down."

She braced herself for his displeasure. For him to remind her that, whatever her feelings, an elder of the family ought to be received.

Instead, a soft laugh escaped him.

"Let me guess. Lady Melissa reached her first."

Elysia stared.

"How did you know?"

"It is not the first time."

Some people learned from a single stumble. Others went on tripping over the same stone no matter how often they passed it.

His aunt, unfortunately, belonged to the latter sort.

"What is she like, my lord?" Elysia asked. "Truly."

Cassiel considered it longer than she expected.

"She loved my mother very much," he said at last. "After my mother passed, she took it upon herself to watch over my brother and me. Whether we wished it or not."

He glanced at her.

"Whatever she may say to you, she will believe she is saying it for my sake."

It did not make the evening’s slight any lighter.

But it made it easier to understand.

"I am glad you are not angry," she said softly.

"You made the decision yourself, which means you had your reasons."

He reached out and gently pinched her cheek.

Warmth spread slowly through Elysia’s chest.

"I trust you to handle it. Though if you would rather not handle it alone—"

"I will handle it my lord." Elysia said, "Please return back to the camp in the morning as you intended."

She met his eyes.

Something very much like pride settled quietly into his expression.

"As you wish."

Then his gaze dropped to her legs.

"Do your knees still hurt?"

"A little."

His warm palm settled against her knee through the blanket, pressing slowly, carefully, with his whole attention, as though nothing in the world mattered more than easing this one small ache.

Beneath his hands, the pain slowly receded.

Elysia watched his bowed head in the moonlight. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes she had not noticed before.

"You ought to be asleep," she murmured.

"So ought you."

"I was asleep. Someone woke me with salve."

His lips twitched.

"Then we are even."

After a while, she gathered her courage and caught his wrist.

"My lord. I think the pain is gone."

One eyebrow rose.

Elysia did not answer. Her cheeks had already begun to burn.

He remembered her injuries. He tended them when no one asked. He had crossed the whole city in the dark simply because he missed her.

Fair was fair.

"The aphrodisiac wine..." she asked quietly. "Are you still feeling its effects?"

Cassiel was silent for a moment.

Then he gave a soft cough.

When he answered, his voice had dropped.

"A little."

Elysia’s heart skipped.

And the room seemed very much quieter than before.