Page 11 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

But she said nothing as she examined the patient, determining that she had a few broken ribs and a broken collarbone.

Tevin held his sister steady as Cantia and a serving woman bandaged up the ribs and then secured the left arm into a permanent, wrapped position so that the collarbone would heal.

It was a relatively simple procedure that had taken less than an hour.

But the relief Val, and Tevin felt, was immeasurable.

Cantia had Val moved into the small solar, away from the bulk of the wounded, for the sheer fact that she was female.

It was not proper for her to convalesce in a room full of men, even if the woman was dressed like a knight.

Oddly enough, Cantia asked no questions of Tevin as to the identity of the female knight.

She simply accepted it on face value and moved on to her next patient.

Though Tevin’s attention was focused on settling his sister, he could not help but be distracted by Lady Penden as she moved among the wounded.

He was impressed by the fact that she was able to put the needs of others over her formidable grief.

It must have been exceptionally wrenching for her to tend men with arrow wounds, knowing her husband had died days earlier in the same manner.

But she said nothing, focused on helping those who needed her.

From what he’d seen over the past few days from her, he’d expected nothing less.

Tevin eventually accompanied Val into the solar and saw to her comfort there on a bed that the servants had placed near the fire.

He was glad that the result of her having been slammed off her charger was just a few cracked bones.

In the heat of the battle, it could have been much worse.

Val had been given a brew of willow bark that eventually caused her to drift off to sleep somewhere near dusk, at which time Tevin left her alone.

He had many others wounded and would use the time to see to them.

The great hall was darkening as evening fell.

A fire burned brightly in the hearth, sending ribbons of smoke into the air.

As Tevin entered the hall, the first thing he saw was Hunt and his big yellow dog sitting near the fire.

The boy had a big piece of bread in his hand and the dog licked at the crumbs on the floor.

“My lord,” Simon Horley somehow had snuck up behind him and he’d never heard him. “How fares Val?”

“She is sleeping,” Tevin replied. “Do you have a casualty report?”

“Nine dead, twenty-seven wounded,” Simon replied. “Considering the fierceness of the battle, I had expected worse.”

Tevin nodded. “Is everyone attended to?”

“Aye,” Simon replied. “Your knights are in the knight’s quarters, awaiting your debriefing.”

Tevin usually gave a small talk after every battle.

It was usually to discuss the battle as a whole, how well it was managed, and if there could be any improvements made with skill or manpower or weapons.

But tonight, he didn’t feel much like talking about it.

Perhaps it was because he had been preoccupied with Val, or perhaps it was because he was too spent.

The past few days had been inordinately draining, both physically and emotionally.

“Tell the men to get some rest and we shall speak on the morrow,” he said. “I shall sleep with Val in case she needs anything.”

Simon nodded. “Very good, my lord.”

With a wave of his hand, Tevin dismissed him. At some point, he realized that Hunt was walking over to him, winding his way amongst the wounded on the floor. The yellow dog followed behind. When Hunt reached him, he stood there looking up at him, chewing on his bread.

“Are you hungry?” the child asked.

Tevin shook his head. “Nay, boy. I am here to look after my wounded.”

Hunt took another big bite of bread. “Mam already did that.”

“Where is your mother?”

“In the yard.”

Tevin nodded his thanks for the information and proceeded to the exit of the keep. The kitchens and yard were on the opposite side of the bailey. It took him a moment to realize that Hunt and the dog were trailing after him.

“I thaw the dead men,” Hunt said as they crossed the dusty ward. “Are you going to give them grand funerals?”

Tevin looked down at him, a disapproving expression across his brow. “Why did your mother allow you to see dead men?”

Hunt had finished his bread, but there were crumbs all over his face. He gazed up at Tevin with blue-eyed innocence. “They were in the ward. I thaw them. One of them had arrowth sticking out of him.”

Just like Brac. Tevin didn’t know what to say so it was best that he say nothing.

As they neared the kitchen enclosure, he spied a few women in the yard, bent over a large iron cauldron.

It was steaming furiously and they were removing pieces of cloth from the boiling brew with big sticks.

Even in the darkness of the bailey, he could see great clotheslines of boiled rags strewn all over the yard.

As he stood at the threshold to the enclosure, Cantia suddenly emerged from the warm, moist kitchen with a tray in her hands.

She spoke to the servants stirring the pot, asking them to add more lye to the mixture.

The bandages were for the wounded and she wanted to make sure that they were clean.

Then she spied Tevin and Hunt at the yard gate.

“My lord,” she headed straight for him. “I was just coming to find you. I thought perhaps you might like something to eat.”

As Tevin gazed at her, he quickly realized one thing; he was glad to see her. “And I was coming to find you to discover the state of my wounded,” he said steadily.

“Perhaps we should go into the keep and discuss it while you eat.”

He merely nodded, allowing her to lead the way.

Hunt raced to his mother’s side, holding her hand as they retraced their steps across the bailey.

Tevin followed along behind, his eyes alternately scanning the ward and scanning Cantia.

He tried not to watch her, the smooth sway of her slender backside, instead focusing on their surroundings.

It had long been a habit, as it was the habit of most knights, to be constantly aware of his surroundings.

Threats often lingered in the shadows. But no threat this night could capture his attention more than Cantia’s graceful figure.

Somewhere during the day, she had donned a heavy linen apron and tied a kerchief around her head to keep her gorgeous hair out of her eyes.

The garments were simple, course even, but she still wore them like a goddess.

The woman could wear nothing that made her look bad.

But more than that, her spirit seemed much improved.

She had greeted him with a clear, even expression and had even smiled, however faint.

He was pleased to see that she appeared in a better state of mind.

Entering the cool, dark keep, she took the food into a small alcove directly off the entry.

It was barely large enough for three people, but there was a small table and an even smaller hearth that smoked and sparked as she set the food down.

Tevin stood just outside of the doorway until he realized that she wanted him to come in and sit down.

He did so, silently, as she removed the cloth covering the contents of the tray.

A large piece of bread, butter, a pitcher of wine and a knuckle of beef await him.

“I thought you said you weren’t hungry,” Hunt was standing beside him, puzzled, as he eyed the food.

He looked at the boy. “Your mother had gone to much effort to feed me. The least I can do is eat.”

Hunt looked up at his mother. “I’m hungry, too. ”

She put her hand on his head. “You ate enough for three people earlier this eve.”

“But I’m still hungry!”

Before Cantia could reply, Tevin tore his bread in two and handed the boy a chunk. “Here.”

“Butter, too?”

Tevin indicated the butter and knife, to which Hunt helped himself generously. The lad pulled up a chair and sat next to Tevin, eventually picking at the beef knuckle. Cantia pulled his hand back the first time he tried.

“Nay, Hunt,” she admonished. “This is his lord’s meal. Consider yourself honored that he has shared his bread with you. Do not ask for more.”

Tevin tore a big piece of beef off the bone and handed it to the boy. His dark eyes looked up at her. “The worst I can tell him is no. There is no harm in asking for more. Most ambitious men do that, and then some.”

She smiled, properly contrite. She put her hands on Hunt’s little shoulders. “Thank you for being so kind to him.”

Mouth full, Tevin watched Hunt stuff his mouth with the beef. “He is easy to be kind to. You have raised your son well.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “His father deserves a good deal of the credit.”

Tevin’s gaze returned to her, watching a melancholy cloud suddenly drift across her face. He moved to another subject quickly. He said the first thing than came to mind.

“Cantia,” he said, pouring himself more wine. “That is an unusual name.”

She struggled not to linger on thoughts of Brac, focusing on Tevin’s statement instead. “It is the ancient name for Kent.”

“Your family has been in Kent for many generations?”

There was a small three-legged stool in the corner and she pulled it near the table, sitting. “For hundreds of years. In fact, my family had a very specific role in the ancient Kingdom of Kent, something that still carries through to this day.”

“What is that?”