Um… that wasn’t Diandra.
Lahn bit some words off at her; she nodded and rushed to me.
“Hey,” I greeted after she bent and put the trunk on the ground by the bed and turned to me.
“Kah rahna Dahksahna hahla,” she muttered, her eyes moving over my face, my shoulders, she carefully lifted the hide and sheet and peered under them then she just as carefully dropped them, turned to Lahn and started talking.
He was standing with his arms crossed on his chest, feet planted wide and eyes piercing her with ferocity and whatever she was saying made his dark glower darker.
She kept talking and he kept glowering.
Then the tent flaps opened and Diandra rushed through followed by a large, older warrior who, like Lahn, had to bend to enter. Teetru followed them.
“Dahksahna Circe!” Diandra cried, seeing me quaking. “What on earth?”
“Too much sun, Diandra, sunstroke. It’s nothing. I just need water and I’ll be fine. Tell Lahn,” I informed her; she nodded, turned and spoke to Lahn.
He spoke back in clipped tones and she nodded and looked at me.
“He has never heard of this, my dear.”
I shook my head. “Well, he wouldn’t. You all live in the sun. Where I come from, we do not. My skin isn’t used to that kind of sun. My entire system isn’t used to it. I tried to tell him, but –”
She cut me off by turning to Lahn and speaking.
His glower got even darker.
Then he barked something at the woman standing by the bed, she said something in return and Diandra spoke to me.
“He’s told the healer to fix you. She’s going to give you something that will dull the pain and help you sleep. She understands what this is and says there’s nothing for it but time.”
Lahn was still snarling at the healer and the healer was replying.
“She’s right,” I said to Diandra but Diandra lifted a hand to me and I was quiet, she was listening.
Then she looked from Lahn to me and started talking and I could tell she was summing it up for Lahn and the healer said far more words than she translated. “He wants you fixed, she says she can’t. The Dax isn’t happy, my queen.”
Well, anyone could see that.
“Tell him it’ll be all right. I’ve had this before. I got too much sun during a vacation in Mexico and I just need to sleep and stay out of the sun a couple of days.”
Her brows knit at my words but she nodded, turned to Lahn and spoke. He spoke back and then snarled something at the healer who instantly bent to her box.
“What?” I asked Diandra and she looked at me.
She shrugged. “He wants you fixed.”
“I will be… in time,” I replied. “Please explain that to him.”
“He doesn’t care, my queen,” she returned.
“But –”
She stepped forward. “Dahksahna Circe, the Dax did this to you. He knows it. He feels guilt. This is not a feeling he understands or knows how to cope with. He might not even understand what it is. Let the healer put you to sleep. The quaking will stop; he will think it’s fixed. Just let him think he found a cure for you.”
I stared at her. Then I whispered, “Oh, all right.”
The healer was at the table, pouring water and tapping some white powder into it from a folded piece of paper. Then she set that aside, picked up a squat, bulbous bottle and tapped some other powder into the cup. Then she swirled the cup in her hand as she brought it to me.
Again, she didn’t make it. Lahn was there, taking the cup, more gently this time, sitting beside me, doing the hand around my neck lifting thing again and he held the cup to my lips, removing it at intervals for me to swallow, then back and again until I drank it all. The liquid was bitter and didn’t taste good at all but I forced it down.
“Shahsha, Lahn,” I whispered when he took the cup away for good and lowered me back to the pillows.
“Nahrahka, kah Lahnahsahna,” Lahn whispered back and my eyes slid to Diandra.
“What did she give me?” I asked.
“A sleeping draft mixed with something to dull the pain. It’s from nature, my dear, not witchcraft. I’ve had it before. It works fast and it’s safe. I promise.”
I nodded and clutched the hides around me in an effort to control the shaking.
Lahn handed the glass to the healer and barked more orders. The man with Diandra, who I was assuming was her husband, Seerim, put his arm around her and guided her away after she and I exchanged nods. My girls drifted out after I gave them reassuring smiles. The healer said a few words to Lahn, left the squat, green, corked bottle filled with white powder on the table, she grabbed her trunk and hurried out.
Lahn took his hides off and slid under the sheet at the other side of the bed. Moving toward me, he turned me to him and gathered my still shaking body in his arms.
I pressed my hands to his chest and whispered, “I’ll be all right, Lahn. I’ll be okay.”
“Yes, okay, Circe,” he agreed on a light squeeze.
I nodded my head against the pillows. “Yes, honey, okay.”
“Honey,” he repeated on another squeeze.
I sighed.
Okay, Lahn could be a dick, a big one, but when you were sick, he didn’t like that and he didn’t fuck around in finding a way to make you better.
Shit.
About five minutes later, my lids got heavy and the quaking turned to mild tremors.
“Okay, Circe, good,” Lahn muttered, drawing me nearer.
I forced my eyes open, tipped my head back, saw his bearded chin was dipped down and his painted eyes were on my face.
“Yes, baby, good,” I mumbled back and fell asleep cradled in a warrior king’s strong arms.
Chapter Eleven
Sweet
“Kah Circe,” I heard Lahn call softly, my eyes drifted open and I saw him looming over me, one arm across my body, hand in the bed, his torso close, his eyes on mine.
“Hey,” I whispered and one side of his mouth twitched.
“Hey,” he replied then he straightened, his hand in the bed slid around my neck and he lifted me up as his other hand came toward me, carrying a cup. He put it to my lips and ordered quietly, “Gingoo, Lahnahsahna.”
I drank the bitter liquid and knew he’d prepared another dose of medicine.
Yeah, damn. He could be sweet.
When I was done, he took the cup away, set it on the ground by the bed and came back to me. His eyes roamed my face and his hand smoothed my hair back, his fingers sifting through it as he did. It felt nice, him doing that, really nice.
Oh shit, yeah. He could be sweet.
And that sucked.
“You know what sucks?” I whispered to him, doing it because I knew he would have no clue as to a word I was saying. “It sucks that you can be sweet and when you’re sweet you’re really sweet. That sucks.”
He didn’t stop tenderly stroking my hair as I spoke but his eyes dropped to my mouth and when I was done, they came back to mine.
Then my heart squeezed when he whispered back, “I don’t understand you, baby.”
There it was again. Sweet.
