Page 6 of His Noble Savior (Folk of Vale #3)

Lilian

A wave of relief crashed over Lilian when the healer suggested Richard should help him with the oil. Richard was becoming Lilian’s anchor, the one who calmed him when the vortex of fear threatened to swallow him. Learning his life had been shortened by centuries had sent him spiraling into panic, and he’d latched onto Richard.

Like a duckling imprinting on the first thing it saw after hatching, Lilian had attached to the first person he’d seen upon his escape. The first person who’d been selflessly kind to him. Lilian clung to Richard.

The thought of the healer touching him had his stomach churning, while Richard tending to his most intimate wound was calming. Richard gave him confidence. He was gorgeous with his high cheekbones and full pink lips, which were almost too sensual and contrasted by a strong jawline. His bronze curls were artfully tousled, and gold flecked his emerald green eyes. Richard’s gaze on him felt like lying in the afternoon sun. His hands were tender and strong, making Lilian feel safe, and when Richard said nothing would happen to him, that he wouldn’t be hurt, Lilian believed him.

Lilian had been used and betrayed by the people closest to him. Richard had everything a man could want—a castle, wealth, friends and family. He had nothing to gain by helping Lilian, which was why he could be trusted.

Regardless, Richard had to feel awkward with Lilian clutching him, but he couldn’t let go when every touch was soothing reassurance. He was lucky Richard tolerated his presence. Of course, Richard had balked when the healer suggested he apply the faerie oil, begrudgingly accepting to do it. He wouldn’t want to touch someone as tarnished as Lilian. Richard was destined for greatness, and Lilian was sure he internally recoiled at the notion of coming near the part of Lilian’s body the orcs had violated over and over. Lilian was dirty and covered in bruises. Richard helped him with the faerie oil out of a sense of duty and hid his disgust admirably well. He had a heart of gold and wouldn’t want anybody to suffer. Richard’s subjects had to love him.

As Lilian lay on the divan, he tugged the cloak in place. Richard’s scent clung to the fabric, and inhaling it eased Lilian’s nerves, allowing him to relax his muscles.

“You’re ready?” Richard asked once he’d spread the faerie oil over his middle finger.

“Y-Yes.”

“Please tell me if I hurt you.” Worry creased his handsome features.

Lilian nodded. His insides had been in pain throughout his captivity. The faerie oil would help. Knowing how important it was to stay loose, he slackened his anal muscle as much as he could. Staying relaxed had been impossible with the orcs, resulting in more pain. With Richard, it was easy.

“I’m going to touch you now.”

The first contact with Richard’s slick finger was a short, careful brush that spread the liquid along Lilian’s rim. He’d been sore for months, and the faerie oil was a boon on his battered opening.

Richard withdrew and let the oil work. After a minute, he returned and this time stayed, resting his fingertip on Lilian. Subconsciously, Lilian had expected to panic at the touch, that it’d remind him of what the orcs had done. Instead, he calmed. The oil soothed the pain along his entrance.

“How does this feel?” Richard asked.

“Like a relief.”

A small smile tugged Richard’s lips. “I’m glad. You’ve used faerie oil before?”

“Yes, though it feels like that was in a former life.”

“Then you might remember what comes next. The oil will warm, and a tingling sensation is going to spread from where I’m touching you. It’s nothing to worry about, but let me know if it gets too intense. We can stop at any point.”

Lilian breathed deeply, and as he did, his rim lit up. A relaxing warmth washed through him, and the tension in his sphincter subsided. A wave of tingles rolled on, crested, and ebbed off. Lilian could’ve sworn that the outermost part of his wound was healing.

“We can stop here if you like,” Richard said softly. “I realize the next step is a lot.”

Lilian sought his eyes. They shone with concern. “You can keep going.” Lilian waited for a flash of disgust to cross Richard’s face, and he regretted pushing for more, but the oil was helping him; his pain was subsiding. To his surprise, Richard showed no signs of revulsion.

He stroked Lilian, letting his fingertip circle. It eased away the remaining tension.

Richard swallowed. “Bear down.”

Lilian did, and his little ring of muscle opened for Richard.

“I’m going to push inside.” Richard voiced it as a statement, but his eyes searched Lilian’s, asking for permission.

“Go ahead.”

Richard exerted the smallest amount of pressure and slid forward, inching into Lilian, who did his best not to clench. As Richard’s oiled digit progressed, the throbbing pain tormenting Lilian dulled.

The healer’s assessment had been right: his injuries ran deep. Richard advanced, and the faerie oil healed Lilian, at least superficially. A few weeks, the healer had said, meaning the biting soreness would likely return in between applications, but for the moment, Lilian, for the first time in months, wasn’t in blinding pain.

Richard’s finger was so different from the massive orcs. Tears of relief blurred Lilian’s vision. Those beasts had been painfully large. They had torn Lilian apart. Literally. Richard was putting him back together, healing him. His finger was comfortable, barely stretching him.

Richard bottomed out and stayed still, allowing the oil to work. Lilian’s insides flooded with warmth, a sensation that spilled over into his belly and ran into his limbs. He’d forgotten how much he liked faerie oil. The friendly heat was followed by the familiar rush of tingles. They erased the sting in his channel, leaving pleasant sensations in their wake.

“Any pain?” Richard asked.

“No.”

“That’s good. I’m going to rotate my finger to spread the oil.”

“Please.”

He twisted left and right, his digit dragging over Lilian’s insides. His expression darkened, and the fear of having done something wrong hit Lilian.

“I can feel your injury,” Richard said.

“Oh.”

Richard regained control over his facial features as fast as it’d slipped. “I apologize; I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just… I’m so sorry this happened. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you. To make you feel better.”

Lilian’s chest expanded. Richard rotated his digit once more, then eased out, the movement slow and controlled as if he was afraid to hurt Lilian at the end. He slipped free.

“How do you feel?” Richard asked.

“Better.”

“Good. How about I have a hot bath prepared for you? Then you can use the healing oil and hopefully, it’ll help you with your cuts and bruises.”

“That’d be wonderful.” Lilian couldn’t wait to wash the last four months off his skin and watch the grime and hurt drain away.

He sat up, and there was no twinge of pain stabbing his insides, only the pleasant ghost of Richard’s touch. The cloak slipped from his shoulders and pooled in his lap, exposing his chest and stomach. He didn’t mind. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. Please accept my gratitude. I’m indebted to you.”

Richard blinked as if to dispel something he’d seen, but he recovered his composure in a heartbeat. “Any decent person would help you. I know it’d be impolite to reject your debt, so I’ll say this: Please don’t worry about repaying me. There’s no rush.”

Richard had his servants heat buckets of water over the fire of the hearth and fill the wooden tub in his washroom. Soon, steam was curling in the air of the stone-tiled chamber and moisture slicked the walls. Richard dismissed the attendants and poured the healing oil into the bath. The moment it hit the water, the bath turned mint green and bubbles arose along with a foresty scent.

“I’ll wait outside while you take your bath,” Richard said, lightly palming Lilian’s upper arm.

A lump formed in Lilian’s throat. Richard leaving him alone in the washroom was normal. It wasn’t a sign of rejection. Anyone would agree. But as Richard stepped away it was as if a void opened between them, and Lilian feared to fall inside and be swallowed. There was no way an orc could force his way into the room. The window was tiny, and Richard would be outside the door. Knights guarded the castle. Yet every foot of space between him and Richard was a foot too much. Lilian couldn’t stop the tremor rattling him as Richard moved through the door. He’d been abandoned so many times. What if Richard left? The thought was nonsensical; they were in Richard’s castle—where would he go? But the panic flaring in Lilian knew no logic.

“Wait!”

Richard turned.

“I’m sorry… Please… I know this is strange… but can you stay?” Lilian flushed.

Sadness crossed Richard’s features. “Of course.”

“I-I appreciate it. I’m sorry… It’s just… I only feel safe when you’re here.” When you’re holding me .

Richard ran a hand through his curls. “It’s all right. You don’t have to explain. I’ll stay by your side for as long as you want me to. Until you get sick of me.” A crooked smile curved a corner of Richard’s lips, and a weight lifted off Lilian’s shoulders. He’d never be sick of him. Richard closed the door, sealing them in the tight confines of the washroom. With anyone else, the lack of space would’ve frightened him, but with Richard, he welcomed the close quarters.

Richard turned his back when Lilian removed the cloak, and the thoughtfulness touched him. Richard had seen him naked; he’d been the one giving him the cloak in the first place, yet he was concerned about Lilian’s privacy. The kindness had tears pooling in Lilian’s eyes.

His body was littered with bruises and welts. Black and blue spots dotted his skin, some fresh from this morning, some days old, turning green and yellow as they faded. A particularly awful one darkened his hip to a painful purple. Lilian couldn’t remember how he’d gotten it. There had been too many to recall.

His stomach growled—it’d been a day since he’d eaten. Now a cook qualified to prepare the meals of a lord was making food for him. Lilian couldn’t wait to dig in.

Gingerly, he climbed into the tub, holding onto the rim. His foot dipped into the wonderfully warm water. Beyond grateful for the hot bath, Lilian stepped inside. The winter had been bitter, the frigid cold creeping into Lilian’s body and settling so deep in his bones, not even the returning spring sun had been able to expel it. As Lilian sank into the bath, the cold seeped out of him, and he moaned.

Richard ripped around, eyes wide in alarm. “Is the water too hot? I can get—”

“No! It’s perfect. Almost too good.”

A flush traveling up his cheeks, Richard looked from side to side. He pulled up a wooden stool and sat by Lilian’s head, seemingly unsure what to do. The humidity curled his hair further. Why did that make him look so charming?

Lilian stretched his limbs underwater, a dense layer of white foam covering him. He went limp in the heat, and the muscles of his back and shoulders, which had hardened throughout months of stress, relaxed.

“I feel a bit useless,” Richard said, rubbing his neck. “Maybe I could wash your hair? I have lavender oil; it’d help us untangle your mane.”

“That’d be so kind of you.”

In captivity, Lilian’s fine hair had tangled into coarse lumps that he didn’t have the strength to straighten out. And what for? He hadn’t counted on living much longer.

Richard rolled up his sleeves and fetched a jar from a shelf by the door. The little pot was well made, perfectly round and of a simple cobalt blue. Lilian’s mind wandered to how he would’ve painted it—with daisies, forget-me-nots and violas. Or perhaps he would’ve depicted an array of fruits—strawberries, peaches and cherries. He missed creating beautiful pottery.

Richard removed the lid, revealing the paste made from herbs, ashes and water that humans used to clean their hair. Lilian dove under, submerging himself in the bath and wetting his hair to the roots. When he came up, Richard had moved behind him, with a dollop of the sage green paste in his palm. It smelled fresh and grassy. If Richard used it on his beautiful curls, it couldn’t be half bad.

Richard sank his fingers into Lilian’s hair and ran them over his scalp, massaging him. As Lilian’s eyes closed, a smile formed on his lips. Back and forth, Richard’s fingertips traveled over his head, soaping him in a steady, soothing way. Lilian could’ve fallen asleep in his care. He leaned into it, resting his neck on the tub’s rounded rim. The paste expanded into a foamy mass, and Richard worked it into his roots, washing him, cleaning him of the past four months.

Soon, Richard picked up a small bucket of clean water and rinsed Lilian’s hair, the warm goodness cascading over his head. It was heaven. Then came the lavender oil, its fresh and floral scent filling the washroom. Richard spread it in Lilian’s hair and carefully separated the tangles.

Back at the Spring Court, Flora had sometimes brushed his hair, ripping the comb through his tousled strands until his eyes watered. Richard, on the other hand, proceeded with utmost care. Untangling Lilian’s messy hair would take longer like this, but he was thankful for Richard’s gentleness. How could he ever repay him?

By the time Richard finished, Lilian was delirious with the bliss of the bath, languid and sleepy. When he lifted out of the water, the bruises had faded. A sigh escaped him. The dirt and pain were gone, leaving clean, unblemished skin. He’d taken another step away from the orcs and into his new life, whatever it may hold.

Richard unfolded an enormous white towel and held it out for Lilian to step into, his eyes lowered to the ground. Lilian twisted into the towel, wrapping it around his body.

Back in Richard’s bedchamber, they found large bowls of steaming food sitting on a petite table. Lilian’s mouth watered. During the bath, he’d forgotten how starved he was, but at the sight of the food, his hunger returned with a vengeance.

“Some of my older clothing might fit you,” Richard said, rummaging through his wardrobe. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything new, but the shirts and trousers from my youth should be your size. I’ll ask a dressmaker to come take your measurements and tailor a few ensembles for you.”

“No, this is perfect. I’m very grateful.”

Lilian took the clothes from Richard, and their hands brushed, sending a pleasurable bolt through him. He stepped behind a folding screen decorated with elegant bird motifs. They’d been carved into the dark wood and plated with gold, the birds’ long, graceful tails curving to the bottom of the individual panels. It was strange to be surrounded by such luxuries when Lilian had spent countless nights lying on the cold, hard ground, shivering in his fretful sleep.

He dressed in Richard’s woolen trousers and white linen shirt, which fit him perfectly. It had to have been a long time since Richard had worn them. He appeared to be in his late twenties and was half a foot taller than Lilian. Where Lilian’s shoulders were narrow, his stretched the shirt he was wearing, his torso tapering toward deliciously slim hips.

With shaky fingers, Lilian tucked the shirt into his trousers. Richard was mere feet away, but Lilian’s jittery body didn’t like the distance. It craved Richard as if he was the air he breathed.

Fully dressed, Lilian joined him at the table, taking his seat opposite him. In front of them sat steaming bowls of vegetable stew topped with shaved cheese and generous servings of bread on the side. The table was small and round, but Lilian’s quivers only subsided when Richard took his chair and dragged it over to sit next to him.

“Better?” Richard asked with a smile.

“Much.”

Their knees brushed, and Lilian inhaled the scent of the stew, aromatic and savory. After living on the orcs’ diet for so long, Lilian could’ve cried tears of gratitude. Orcs ate meat, meat and more meat. If Lilian was lucky, they threw mushrooms, nuts or fruit into the mix, but usually, he’d gotten meat three times a day, often raw, which was impossible to stomach.

He dipped his spoon into the colorful vegetable goodness, moaning when the hot food hit his tongue. The cook had seasoned it expertly, delivering a rich taste. Lilian ate greedily, now and then dunking a thick slice of bread into the broth. It filled his stomach and expelled his hunger pains.

“You’re welcome to stay in my castle for as long as you like,” Richard said between spoonfuls. “If you wanted to return to the Spring Court, I’d be happy to organize an escort for you.” Lilian must’ve given him a startled look because Richard hurried to add, “You don’t have to make a decision today. You can take it day by day, even hour by hour. Whatever you need, you’ll get.”

The Spring Court seemed a thousand miles away. With the invasion of the orcs, Queen Dahlia would’ve raised the wards, shielding her part of the faerie realm from unwanted guests. If the orcs overran Vale, which was only a matter of time, the faerie realm was the safest place. No orc would be able to get in.

Apart from that, Lilian had no reason to return. Nobody there cared about him. Flora had never been his friend—that had become evident thanks to Richard’s selfless care of him. She’d thrown him to the wolves, not caring if they tore him to pieces.

Even with an escort, the journey to the Spring Court was dangerous. It lay halfway across Vale, and he’d be traveling for days. What if the orcs came after him on the way? The risk wasn’t worth it.

Lilian looked at Richard, and the world warmed. His presence wrapped around him like a blanket, keeping him safe.

“I don’t want to leave,” Lilian said, and he could’ve sworn Richard’s face lit up for a split second, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

As the sun set and painted the sky in shades of bright orange and pink, a servant came to light the oil lamps mounted to the walls, dipping the room into a golden glow. With night encroaching, a question formed in Lilian’s mind: where was he going to sleep?

“What would make you feel the most comfortable?” Richard asked when he brought it up.

Lilian chewed his bottom lip. He’d been sleeping on the ground his whole life, but he wouldn’t call that comfortable. If only he had his favorite blanket, then he could curl up with it on the carpet.

“I don’t know how fae sleep,” Richard continued when Lilian didn’t answer, lost in thought, “but I can have a guest chamber prepared for you. I’ll post a guard in front of the door and give you the key so you can lock yourself in. Would that make you feel safe?”

Before Lilian’s inner eye, a big empty room opened. Tall ceiling, white walls, a lone bed. Panic filled him. What if the orcs came for him in the night? A human guard wouldn’t stop them. Against his will, Lilian trembled.

Richard placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him. “I don’t think you like the idea.”

“No,” Lilian said in a small voice. He should be fine sleeping in a guest chamber. Normal people did that when they visited. Why couldn’t he control himself? Why was he afraid of sleeping in a room that’d be clean, comfortable and probably full of pretty decor? He was being silly.

“Where would you feel safe?” Richard asked, his fingers stroking back and forth reassuringly.

Lilian’s gaze drifted through the room, catching on the enormous four-poster bed. If it were an option, he’d sleep here, protected by Richard, but that was preposterous. Lilian had taken up his time all day, and Richard had to be tired of him, waiting for him to leave so that he could get on with his routine. He didn’t want to be a nuisance. Richard had done so much to protect his privacy, and the favor had to be returned. Lilian should take the guest chamber and get out of Richard’s hair. It was the polite thing to do.

Richard followed Lilian’s gaze, then looked between him and the bed, surprise lifting his brows. Heat shot into Lilian’s cheeks. What Richard must think of him! Lilian had to wriggle out of this with an excuse. He shouldn’t have glanced at the bed, and now he’d made Richard uncomfortable.

“Well, uhm…”

“I’m unsure how to ask this after everything you’ve been through,” Richard said, his voice gentle, “but I want to be here for you. Would you—”

“I don’t want to be alone,” Lilian whispered.

Richard wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. Lilian sank into the embrace, burying his face in the crook of Richard’s neck, breathing in his sandalwood scent. He smelled like home, though nothing like the hollow tree Lilian had lived in. Had that place ever been his home? The tree had sheltered him, but Lilian had been alone. He didn’t feel alone with Richard.

“I understand,” Richard said. “I don’t want to make assumptions, and please be honest with me, but would you prefer to stay with me tonight? It’s all right if you don’t, but I wanted to offer.”

Lilian sagged against him in relief. “Yes. Please.”

He needed Richard. The thought of being alone in the dark frightened him. Mere hours ago, he’d learned that his remaining lifespan had shrunk from centuries to decades, and he had yet to stomach the blow. When the healer told him, Lilian had succumbed to shock. Left alone in a guest chamber, he would cry all night. He was grateful for the offer of comfort, though he hated being a nuisance to Richard. Lilian would have to learn to sleep alone. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome.