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He grunted and lifted his gaze to mine. “Come here,” he growled.

Before I realized what he was about to do, he had me in his arms again. Keeping my skirts hiked around my waist, he carried me into the water.

“It’s going to be cold,” he warned without giving me time to prepare. I screeched as he submerged me in the icy stream. “It will help bring down the swelling and redness,” he advised, holding on to me, mindful not to let my riding skirts become soaked.

I clung to his arms, panting against him in protest of the cold. Gradually I realized he was correct. The cold water did soothe my inflamed skin. The shock eventually ebbed, and I sighed in relief at the icy rush over my abused flesh.

“We will rest today and resume tomorrow,” he said, still holding me, hugging me really, and I tried not to think about the bewildering way my chest pulled and constricted at the center. My heart beat faster, almost like it longed to break free. “In the future, speak up if you’re hurt or sick.”

“All right,” I agreed, cautiously hopeful that he would now acknowledge my existence and not leave me to Mari all the time. Perhaps we could get beyond our rough start and forge something together. What was the alternative? Remain as strangers? Enemies?

A crunch of pebbles alerted us that we were no longer alone.

Fell stiffened against me but managed not to drop me into the water as he swiftly twisted around. I searched the bank and found the interloper.

A woman stood across the stream. I didn’t know what I expected to find—Mari or one of his warriors or more brigands. This hooded figure was not any of those, though.

Her cloak covered all of her except for the oval of her pretty face. A strong wind stirred, buffeting her garments against her shape. The breeze cracked branches and rustled leaves. A fine mist emerged from within its fold, curling over the ground, coming toward us in a swelling gust. Her expression was mildly curious as she eyed the strange sight we must have made.

“Hello,” she said evenly. Her eyes, far older and wiser than the smooth brown skin of her face would suggest, flitted back and forth between us.

Fell’s voice rumbled against me, although there was no warmth or welcome in the sound. “Hello.”

“Is she ill?” she inquired with a nod at me, and I shivered, uncertain if it was from her dark eyes or the sudden swathe of chilling fog.

“Saddle sore,” he replied casually, although I detected the tension in him. His gaze scanned the fogged bank and tree line, clearly searching for anyone else who might be accompanying her.

She bent her head slightly to fumble with a satchel at her side, beneath her cloak. The action slipped the hood back on her head, and her red hair came into full, glorious view. It was not a fiery red, though, shot through with various shades of red and gold like mine. Her hair was a deep scarlet, all one hue, almost unnatural in color. She wore the straight crimson curtain pulled back at her temples with a pair of simple combs. “I have something to help with that.”

She produced a small cork-topped jar from her bag. Without waiting for an invitation, she crossed the stream, dragging her hem through the water indifferently. Fell tensed as she reached us and motioned me onto the mossy rock I’d earlier occupied. “Come now,” she chided. “I’ll not bite. Sit yourself there and let me attend to you.”

I glanced at Fell, but he did not move. His attention remained fixed on her, and I was seized with the conviction that should he wish it, we would be gone, vanished into the rising mist.Ifhe deemed her a threat.

She sighed and propped one hand on her hip, clearly aware of his reticence. “Come now. I’ll not harm her.” She glanced at me and waved her little jar. “I’m guessing you would appreciate this.”

I considered her for a moment before giving his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “I would appreciate that,” I replied, then assured Fell, “It’s all right. Set me down.”

After a few moments, he gave a curt nod and carried me back to the slab of rock. Once I was settled upon it, she gestured for me to lift my skirts, and I obliged, marveling that I would permit two strangers to assess me so intimately on the same day. Or, well, ever.

Fell hovered close, clearly still wary of her intentions. Upon examination of me, she clucked her tongue and sent Fell a reproving look. “You should have better care for your woman.”

My face burned hot at those words. She could not know he was forced to have me, and I would not dare explain our unusual situation to her. One embarrassment at a time was enough.

She uncorked the jar. The pleasant scent of juniper and rosemary and other fragrant herbs reached my nose. “This salve will make you feel better and help hasten the healing,” she kindly explained. I sucked in a breath and tried not to recoil when she dabbed the mixture against a particularly tender area.

“Apologies,” she murmured. “You have a few spots rubbed quite raw.” Another accusing glare was sent Fell’s way, and he actually looked a little shame-faced.

Finished, she pulled my skirts back down. I shifted experimentally and exhaled. “That is... incredible. It already feels so much better.”

“Of course it does.” Her beautiful face broke into a smile then. “Here.” She offered me the jar.

“Oh no. I couldn’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Fell broke in, proffering a coin he had produced from somewhere on his person. “Take it,” he said to the woman.

Her smile slipped. “I don’t need your money, border lord.” She flung out the designation like it was something foul on her tongue.

She knew he was a border lord? I acknowledged that he had a certain look to him, a certain air of authority and command, and he dressed as a Northman. He could never be mistaken for a soldier of the City.