"I'm calling the squires to bring bathwater and food. You need to wash and eat," Kyren said, moving to the bedside table afterwards.
He reached for the bell and rang it twice. The sharp chime reverberated through the tent.
Moments later, three squires entered. Two carried a large wooden tub sloshing with warm water, and the third held a tray of food.
Kyren stepped in front of Anna, his broad frame shielding her from sight until the squires bowed and departed.
"We don't have female servants, and I'm not permitted to hire any here. So bear with it for now," he said.
Anna merely nodded.
She tried to stand, but her weakened legs gave way beneath her. The commander caught her instantly and lifted her into his arms, feeling her weight, which was almost nothing to him.
Anna blinked, eyes wide.
"I—I can wash on my own!" she stammered.
Kyren paused, gazing at his little wife in his arms.
"You can't even stand. How do you expect to bathe alone?" His tone was stern, but beneath it lay genuine concern.
She swallowed, unable to argue.
Unheeding of her hesitation, he reached for the blanket wrapped around her, but she clutched it tightly to her chest, cheeks burning.
He sighed, throwing a serious expression.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of. We're husband and wife. I've already seen you."
The reminder sent another rush of heat to her face.
This time, he pulled the blanket away gently yet decisively, and Anna squeezed her eyes shut, unable to face him as the air brushed her bare skin.
Kyren lowered her carefully into the warm bathwater.
"Lift your legs onto the ledge. Your feet are wounded, it'll sting if you soak them immediately," he instructed.
Anna braced her hands on the rim and tried to lift her legs, but the tub was far too wide for her small frame.
"Ah!"
Her balance faltered, and she slipped backwards, sending a rush of water surging upward in a panicked splash as she nearly went under. Kyren caught her at the last second, one arm braced firmly around her.
"Uh—uh!" Anna's chest heaved as she tried to steady herself, hands flailing until they finally latched onto him. Half her body slid out of the water, dripping as she clung to his solid frame.
"Relax. I've got you…" The commander murmured.
Her fingers trembled against him, and he could feel her fear. She clearly needed something to brace against if she was going to stay in the tub without tipping over.
"Give me a moment."
He lifted her effortlessly and set her on a nearby chair, water trailing from her skin. Then he shrugged off his robe. Muscle after muscle came into view, carved hard and honed from years of war.
A tiny jolt passed through her before she tore her gaze away so quickly that the tips of her ears turned scarlet.
Without a word, he lifted her again, stepped into the tub himself, and settled into the water. Then he placed her gently on his lap, guiding her back against his chest and lifting her injured feet to the ledge.
Water sloshed over the edges.
Slowly, almost reverently, he swept her auburn hair over one shoulder, revealing the pale line of her neck.
Anna shuddered. His hands felt rough but warm against her bare back; his breath ghosted across her skin.
She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest against her spine, and the solid strength of his legs beneath her.
Kyren's expression darkened as he studied the bruises scattered over her body. His jaw tightened. No man, not even one hardened by war, could look at such injuries without anger.
He vowed silently that the men who had done this would not see mercy.
"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," he whispered when he felt her trembling again.
His fingertip traced a bruise along her shoulder, then followed the line of her arm. He gently lifted her hand, turning it to examine the marks marring her skin.
"Let me see your front," he said quietly.
With slow, steady movements, he shifted her into his arms again, supporting her back as her feet rested on the tub's ledge. He examined the bruises on her chest and throat, then lifted her chin so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
His blue eyes glimmered with restrained fury and something else—something gentler.
He brushed a few wet strands of hair behind her ear.
"You're badly hurt," he said, voice low.
"I'm fine… It doesn't hurt that much anymore," she whispered.
"Don't lie." His brows knitted. "I'll find the slave traders. And I'll execute them."
"You don't have to, you've already saved my life."
"You are my woman now." His voice dropped, deadly calm. "No one touches what's mine. They will pay dearly for harming you, and the price won't be low."
The quiet conviction in his tone struck through her chest like an arrow.
This man—a stranger who had appeared in her darkest moment—had become both her shield and anchor. Yet the echoes of bloodshed haunted her still: the screams, the flames, the bodies in Ardel's halls.
A tremor ran through her.
"I'm scared!" The confession burst out before she could stop it, and tears spilt over.
Since the night of the usurpation, she had kept her grief hidden, like a sealed wound. Now, it erupted openly; fear, sorrow, and helplessness poured out like a storm.
"Don't cry," Kyren coaxed, wiping the tears tracing down her cheeks. "You've suffered enough."
Her shoulders shook.
"Don't leave me alone! Please! I'm so scared!"
Overwhelmed, she folded into him, clutching him as if he were the last solid thing left in a collapsing world. In her most vulnerable moment, he was the only refuge she had.
Kyren's arms closed around her, firm and protective. His hand came to rest at the back of her head—a gesture he had never given to anyone else.
In his embrace, warmth seeped into her bones, easing the chill of her memories. And in holding her, something unfamiliar and powerful stirred in him—a fierce desire to shield her from every danger.
In that moment, a bond took root; a connection built not on lust, but on trust and hope.