Page 5 of His Noble Savior (Folk of Vale #3)

Richard

Richard and his troop rode into Somerdale Castle’s inner courtyard, gravel crunching under hooves. He climbed off his mare and extended his arms to help Lilian dismount. The fae looked exhausted, dark circles framing his pink eyes. Careful so as not to dislodge the cloak covering him, he slid out of the saddle and into Richard’s arms. Richard caught him, not wanting him to hurt his feet on the gravel.

“May I carry you to my drawing room?” Richard asked, ignoring the curious look the stable master threw them.

“I’d appreciate that,” Lilian said.

He weighed nothing. With one arm under Lilian’s knees and the other supporting his back, Richard climbed the steps to the doubled-wing portal. His footfall on the entrance hall’s marble floor echoed off the walls. George and Resh trailed after him.

“The kitchen is that way,” Richard said, nodding toward a door to the left, “and the steward’s writing room is two doors down. She’ll help you with any practical matters. I want you to feel at home while you stay with us.”

Lilian nodded weakly. Richard would show him around of the castle later, but Lilian’s most pressing needs had to be attended to first. He was injured and had to be hungry.

“George,” Richard said as he carried Lilian up the staircase, “I want you to inform the servants that we have a fae guest staying with us. Have them remove all iron where possible and cover the rest. Then ask the cook to prepare food.” He turned his attention to Lilian. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to eat? Our cook is skilled in various cuisines—not faerie food, I’m afraid, but I’m sure she can prepare something you like.”

“Anything but meat. Please, your cook doesn’t have to make a fuss over me. Whatever you eat is fine.”

“I’ll go see her,” George said and turned on the creaking stairs, his footsteps fading as he made for the kitchen.

Richard climbed to the second floor, Resh passing him, opening the tall doors on the landing, which led into Richard’s chambers, and they strode into his spacious drawing room.

A mantelpiece of massive stone blocks dominated one side of the room, chairs and divans clustered around a low walnut table in front of it. Red carpets covered the floorboards, softening Richard’s steps.

He placed Lilian on a divan with a cushioned headrest. Lilian made a small sound as he came to lie on the velvet upholstery, and Richard let go of him. Was he in pain?

The trail of blood that had run down to Lilian’s ankle had dried, but his injuries needed tending. His cheeks were hollow and wan, though the beauty hidden under layers of dirt and fatigue was unmistakable. He looked up at Richard with soulful pink eyes, his small nose and pale lips giving him an air of youth and innocence. His physical needs would be taken care of swiftly, but it was his emotional wounds that worried Richard.

During the ride home, Richard had thought about that trickle of blood along Lilian’s leg. He knew what it meant. Not wanting to scare Lilian with his fury at the orcs, Richard controlled his emotions, not allowing outward signs of rage beyond the gritting of his teeth. He spoke in calm words, reassuring Lilian. Everything inside him screamed to take charge, to protect Lilian and punish the orcs, but violence might disturb the young fae. The best thing Richard could do was provide him with a peaceful environment and let him make his own choices. The orcs had ripped away his autonomy. Under Richard’s roof, Lilian was going to be in control.

“Are you from the Spring Court?” Richard crouched by his side. “You’re very fair.”

“Y-Yes.” Lilian trembled. On instinct, Richard placed a hand next to his shoulder on the divan, and the worst of Lilian’s tremors subsided.

“That’s quite far. We’re in eastern Vale, and the Summer Court is close. Would you like to have a fae healer come to see you? We have a physician at the castle, but he’s only treated humans and might not have the experience or remedies to help you.”

“Please.”

Richard gave Resh, who was hovering by the door, a nod.

“Help won’t be long,” Resh said and slipped outside, closing the door behind him.

Lilian sighed, and the tension in his body dissolved. “He seems nice.”

“You’re glad that he’s gone though,” Richard said with a smile. “I’ll ask him to stay with George on the third floor while you’re with us. He’ll understand. Imps have a reputation, and trust takes time.” He peeled out of his leather armor as he spoke, leaving him in his white linen shirt and a pair of dark, fitted trousers.

“Imps aren’t half as bad as orcs.” Lilian turned to look Richard in the eye. “I was at the Great River when they caught me. They moved me a lot, but I didn’t realize they’d dragged me across Vale.” Lilian’s bottom lip quaked.

Richard made a soothing sound. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Lilian ran a shaky hand over his face, his fingers long and slender. He spasmed, sucking down air.

“Is there anything I can do to help you until the healer gets here? Would you like a blanket? Or if you want to be alone—”

“No!”

There was a second of silence. “Then I won’t leave.” Richard unfurled into a sitting position on the carpet, extending his legs under the divan.

Lilian swallowed and averted his gaze. “Could you hold my hand? Please?”

“Of course.” Richard clasped Lilian’s jittery hand where it lay on his chest. It was icy. He interlaced their fingers, and Lilian’s breathing evened out.

“It’s good to know someone is here.”

Richard’s heart ached. How long had it been since someone had touched Lilian gently? Richard ran his thumb over the back of Lilian’s hand, earning a small sound. Lilian’s eyelids closed, and he fell asleep.

Richard didn’t move. He watched over Lilian, whose frigid skin warmed under his touch. Whenever a whine broke free of Lilian’s lips, Richard stroked his hand, calming him.

Finally, steps sounded in the hallway and a heavy knock came rapping on the door. Lilian stirred, blinking his eyes open. Richard gave him a moment to find his bearings before he answered.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and a fae clad in a forest green robe entered. She carried a leather satchel and had pinned a gilded, coiling brooch to her dress, identifying her as a healer. Like many summer fae, she was copper-haired, and her skin had a healthy bronze tone. She looked no older than thirty, but she could be well past a hundred. Fae didn’t age during the first two centuries of their lives.

“I’m grateful you came so quickly,” Richard said, sidestepping the words “thank you,” which fae considered rude. They operated on a complicated system of favors and debts, and words were no adequate repayment for a service. “The steward will pay you in gold from the castle’s funds before you leave. You’ll be compensated generously for your efforts.” Staying indebted to a fae was dangerous, and Richard preferred to settle obligations on the spot and in coin.

Lilian sat up, taking care to stay covered by Richard’s cloak. He didn’t let go of Richard’s hand, who moved to sit beside him on the divan while the healer examined Lilian’s bruised limbs and asked about his other injuries.

“I can go outside if you prefer to show her alone,” Richard said. No doubt Lilian was hurt in intimate places, and Richard wanted to respect his privacy.

Lilian shook his head vehemently, clutching Richard.

“I can stay right outside the door.”

“No,” Lilian bit out, tightening his grip on Richard.

If Lilian didn’t want him to go, he wasn’t going to leave. Lilian had been deprived of someone to turn to, and naturally, he’d latched onto Richard, the first person he saw after his escape. He needed a shoulder to lean on, and Richard would provide it. Only a monster could stay unaffected and not help in the face of the ordeal Lilian had gone through.

The healer inspected his injuries, lifting the cloak here and there. Richard averted his gaze, protecting Lilian’s privacy. When Lilian hissed in pain, Richard stroked his knuckles. In a detached voice, Lilian told the healer about his captivity.

When she finished the examination, she sat down on a chair facing them. An uneasy sense of foreboding befell Richard at her somber expression. She had bad news. Lilian shuffled closer to him, tightly wrapping himself in the cloak.

“Lilian,” the healer said, “I don’t know if you had an opportunity to notice while you were with the orcs, but your eyes have turned pink.”

Lilian flinched, jostling Richard, and blinked rapidly. Shallow breaths rushed in and out of him.

The healer placed a hand on Lilian’s knee, but he jerked away, curling in on Richard. Instinct guiding him, he wrapped an arm around Lilian’s narrow shoulders, holding him close. He wanted to ask about Lilian’s eyes but held his tongue. Richard was here to support him, not to ask questions that might upset him.

“You spent a lot of time in captivity,” the healer continued, “and repeated injuries have exhausted your life magic. Your irises have turned pink as a result. Fae and orcs aren’t compatible, and while reproduction is theoretically possible, it’s highly unlikely. Fae bodies reject orc seed. It means you didn’t bond with the orcs who held you, and you won’t have their offspring. Unlike humans, fae cannot become physically dependent on orcs either. However, since they frequently violated you over a long time, your health has been affected. Large quantities of orc fluids are toxic to fae. While you’re not going to die immediately, it does mean your aging process has set in prematurely.”

A sob shook Lilian, and Richard held him tighter. With every word the fae said, his worries for Lilian grew.

“How old are you?” the healer asked.

“T-Twenty,” Lilian said, the word muffled against Richard’s shoulder.

“You’re not going to live for the centuries you expected to, but you still have a lot of time. I expect you to live into your seventies. You have decades ahead of you during which you’re going to age no faster than a human.”

Lilian sat up, collecting himself, but he remained pressed against Richard. “I appreciate you telling me. At least I’m not dying.”

The healer’s eyebrows lifted. “Not at all. Once your wounds have healed, you can resume your normal life. Your body will recover, and I expect your health to remain stable for a long time. You can enjoy the coming decades just as a human your age would. Also, I have some remedies that’ll help you heal.”

She pulled two vials from her satchel. “Ask the servants to prepare a hot bath for you, and pour this into the water.” She held up a green flask, the base wrapped in leaves. “This is a healing oil that will remedy your bruises and superficial injuries.” The healer showed them the second vial, which was filled with an amber liquid in which flower petals and small, coiling pieces of grass floated. “This is faerie oil.”

“Faerie oil?” The words burst out of Richard unbidden. He knew the substance, every adult in Vale did, though in a different context.

“It might come as a surprise,” the healer said, “but faerie oil has exceptional healing properties. Yes, it’s employed to smooth intercourse, but it also prevents and heals anal injuries.”

Richard was dumbstruck. He’d used faerie oil every time he’d been with a man. It was wonderfully slick and caused a warm, tingling sensation in the places it was applied to. He hadn’t been aware of its medical use. But it made sense—intercourse without faerie oil could lead to an intense soreness lasting for days.

“The oil will speed your recovery and take away any discomfort,” the healer told Lilian. “From what I’ve seen, I assume you’re in pain?”

“Excruciatingly so.”

Richard closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, holding his flaring wrath inside. His hold on Lilian stayed gentle as he fought his hatred for the beasts who’d done this to him.

“You have an internal wound caused by the orcs’ repeated violation of your body. For the next few weeks, the oil needs to be applied to your insides morning and night and whenever you feel pain. After a fortnight, your injury should be healed. The wound runs quite deep, and it’ll be difficult for you to sufficiently spread the oil yourself. The Summer Court isn’t far, and I can visit Somerdale Castle twice a day to help you. The sooner we begin your treatment, the quicker your pain will subside. I recommend we start immediately. Richard, if you don’t mind leaving us for a minute, I’ll get started with Lilian.”

“Of course.”

Richard made to get up and step outside to grant Lilian privacy, but shaky hands curled into the sleeve of his shirt. Lilian looked at him with pleading eyes, silently asking him to stay. Richard would never deny him, and so he sank back onto the divan. If Lilian wanted him by his side for this, he’d stay.

The healer moved to uncork the vial, and a violent tremor raced through Lilian, making his teeth chatter. The faerie oil would have to be applied inside Lilian, an intimate act that surely terrified him after what the orcs had done.

“Please don’t worry,” the healer said, “applying the faerie oil doesn’t hurt. It takes away the pain.”

Lilian squeezed his eyes shut, visibly trying to rein in his shivering body.

“She won’t hurt you,” Richard said. “I’m right here. I’ll hold your hand through it.”

Lilian scrunched up his face in visible agony. “I can’t,” he pressed out. Sweat pearled on his forehead.

Richard’s heart broke for Lilian. He wanted to tell him that the healer would make him better, that yes, it was difficult to bear, but it’d be worth it. At the same time, he understood where the fear came from. After being violated, of course Lilian balked at the idea of being touched in intimate places. Richard respected his wishes. If Lilian didn’t want to be touched, even if it was to help him, then he wouldn’t be touched.

The healer’s eyes darted between them, taking in how Lilian clung to him. “Would you prefer it if Richard applied the faerie oil?”

Richard froze. Lilian’s tremors drained away, and he went slack.

Had he heard right? Richard furrowed his brow. The healer couldn’t have meant what he thought she’d said. If Lilian didn’t want a healer to touch him, she couldn’t possibly suggest that Richard, who had no medical training, was a better solution.

“Have you used faerie oil before?” the healer asked Richard.

“Yes, but—”

“Then you know what to do. This is no different.” The healer gave him a burst of mechanical instructions that heated the tips of his ears. She couldn’t be serious. This was the last thing Lilian wanted. “Would you be all right if Richard did it?”

Lilian lowered his eyes, a faint pink gracing his cheeks. “Yes.”

“Then it’s settled. Unless you have any objections?” The healer raised an eyebrow at Richard.

What was he supposed to say? He’d help Lilian in any way possible, though he’d have to check with him when they were alone. Lilian might’ve only said yes to get out of this uncomfortable situation. “It’s fine.”

“Perfect. I’ll leave you to it. Reach out if there’s no improvement within the coming days or whenever you need more faerie oil.”

She stood, handing Richard the vials. He expressed his gratitude, still stunned by her suggestion to assist in Lilian’s most intimate healing. She closed the door behind her, and Richard listened to the fading echo of her footsteps as the silence in the room thickened.

Lilian righted himself but kept his hands on Richard’s arm. Indiscernible emotion floated in his gaze.

“We don’t have to do this,” Richard said, and Lilian’s expression darkened. “I know the healer thinks the faerie oil would do you good, and I’m sure she’s right, but we don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable. Everything that happens in these rooms is up to you.”

“Do you not want to?” Lilian asked in a small voice.

“What? No, I do want to help you. But if you prefer to try on your own, I understand. There’s no pressure, though if you’d like my help, I’m here.”

Lilian exhaled, then nodded, his tangled hair swaying as he looked away. “I want your help. Please.” His lips twisted. “I’m in so much pain. Every move feels like a knife is twisting inside me.”

Richard’s mouth thinned into a narrow line. He was going to raise an army and slaughter those orcs. Gently, he rubbed Lilian’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Of course I’ll help you.” Wide eyes bore into him. “Let me get some towels…”

He rose and Lilian with him, keeping one hand on his sleeve as if he feared Richard would run. They crossed the room and entered Richard’s spacious bedchamber. Unlike his rustic drawing room, his sleeping quarters were airy, the walls and ceiling painted a soft white. Grand windows opened into the inner courtyard on one side and granted a magnificent view of the Somer Valley on the other.

Richard pulled a couple of pristine white linen towels from his wardrobe, and the scent of freshly washed clothing filled his nostrils. Lilian never left his side, his eyes cast to the floor. It tugged at his heartstrings.

“Can I touch you?” Richard asked.

“Yes.”

He pulled Lilian close, one arm full of towels, the other hugging his thin frame. “You can do the same. Hold onto me whenever you like. I’m here to support you.”

Richard guided him to the divan, agonizing about the pain each step had to cause Lilian. He’d make it better.

“I don’t normally cling to people like this,” Lilian said, watching Richard spread the towels on the divan.

“It’s normal. I suppose you were the only captive?”

“Yes.”

“That must’ve been lonely, and I understand that you crave connection. It’s to be expected.” Richard smoothed down the towels. “A couple of months ago, my brother Nathan was taken by orcs.”

“Oh.”

“He’s twenty-two, only a little older than you. I worry about him. My cousin James of Castlehill persuaded the elves to assign one of their knights, Kamuel, to Nathan’s rescue mission. Now Kamuel has gone missing too, likely abducted by orcs.”

Lilian climbed onto the divan, wincing as he moved. “I’m sorry about your brother and the elf. I hope you find them soon.”

“Me too.” Richard straddled the narrow divan and sat. “If you’re uncomfortable or in pain, tell me, and I’ll stop immediately. You’re in complete control of what happens, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Lilian reclined and dragged the cloak over his torso to maintain propriety but exposed his legs, bending them at the knees to grant Richard access. Bruises and scratch marks dotted him from his feet to his thighs. To hell with those orcs.

Richard uncorked the faerie oil, and a floral scent emerged. He poured the amber liquid into his palm and dragged his middle finger through it, slicking it. He glanced at Lilian, who’d fixed his eyes on the ceiling beams. His body was relaxed, which would help with the application of the oil. Richard was going to be very gentle.