KALDRIC'S POV
The weight of her in my arms was both a relief and a haunting accusation of my failure, I was late, again. I kept failing, I kept letting her down.
She was so light, frighteningly so, as if the trauma of the last few hours had hollowed out what little remained of her spirit.
"Empty-headed knight. Perfect name for you, don't you think so?" Emerson smirked, leaning against the pole she was just tied to.
"Shut up, Emerson." I muttered, encasing her against my chest.
Emerson stood among the ruins, his emerald cloak untouched by the soot, watching me with a look of amused pity that made my teeth grind.
"She was shocked by your arrival, Kaldric," he remarked, his voice smooth and cutting as he walked towards me, speaking in a low tone so others wouldn't listen.
"What an irony. The Great Protector of the Kingdom... and yet your own bride doesn't expect you to be her savior."
My chest clenched, a blow that no rebel mace could emulate because it was the truth. The harsh truth, the weight, the… burden.
"She didn't expect you to come and save her."
I didn't give him the satisfaction of a retort. I couldn't. He was right.
The look in her eyes before she drifted away hadn't been one of certain expectations, of a call out for help. It was none but heartbreak and disappointment.
I turned and walked away into the freezing night, my face an unreadable stone, not permitting anyone to see through the building frustration but my soul experienced a fatal blow on my pride.
To protect one vow, I failed to maintain the other.
We had to camp for the night. The Northern winds were too treacherous to attempt the full return to the Stronghold with a woman in her condition.
We found a small, sheltered cave, the fire crackling with a hollow cheer that did nothing to warm the ice in my gut.
Araleth knelt by the furs where I had laid Ardelle. She began to inspect the dark, blossoming bruises on Ardelle's arms and the state of her dress.
"Leave," Araleth ordered. "I have to remove her clothing to apply the ointment to her ribs and shoulders."
"I will do it," I said instantly, leaving no space for argument.
"You?" Araleth looked up, a sharp smirk dancing on her lips.
"Do you even know how to be gentle with a woman, Kaldric? Or is this just a show for the Earl to prove you 'care'?"
"I don't need a show," I muttered, my hand hovering near Ardelle's head. "And you don't know how her laces should be."
If they were too tight, she had difficulty breathing. One time, she nearly fainted because of them until I had to loosen them.
Araleth's eyebrows shot up. "And you do?"
"Yes."
"My, my," she teased, though her eyes remained observant.
"Were you busy tying and untying her laces on this journey, Mentor? I didn't know the Pillar had such... nimble fingers."
I ignored her. I couldn't find the energy for our usual banter.
Seeing the bruises had drained the fire from my blood, leaving only a cold, focused intent.
Araleth saw the darkness in my expression, sighed, and handed me the jar of medicinal salve.
"Here," She slipped out into the snow to join the scouts, leaving us in the flickering orange glow of the hearth.
Alone, the silence was deafening.
With hands that had broken shields and crushed throats, I reached for her chemise.
My fingers, usually so sure, trembled as I worked the intricate laces I had memorized by touch in these fleeting weeks.
The curve of her waist, the rise of her chest, the brittle bones. My mind couldn't yet these fingers had her body engraved under the palm.
As the fabric fell away, my breath hitched with an unforeseen tingle. The urge to personally torture the men we captured for interrogation.
But it was the marks I had left that hurt the most to look at. They were a reminder of the intimacy we had shared right before I had abandoned her to her hunters.
I took a dollop of the cool, herbal ointment. I began to apply it, my touch so light.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, lowering my head with overwhelming remorse, curling my hand in a powerless fist.
She remained unconscious, her breathing shallow. I traced the line of a bruise on her shoulder, my heart pounding wildly, a rhythm of pure penance.
I had called her a burden. I had told her she was a distraction.
'You did this, Kaldric. You.'
I finished the task, pulling a clean fur up to her chin. I didn't sleep. I sat beside her, my sword across my lap, watching the fire die down.
Waiting for the moment her emerald eyes would open and tell me if I was still her hero—or just another man who had hurt her.
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ARDELLE'S POV
The first thing my senses received were coldness which was soon eradicated by the wrath of a pair of large hands.
My eyes fluttered open. The ceiling of the cave was a tapestry of shadows, illuminated by the dying orange pulse of a campfire.
My body felt heavy, a dull throb of pain radiating from my ribs, but there was a cooling sensation on my skin that felt like a mercy.
I shifted slightly, and a hand– His hand– massive, calloused, yet impossibly careful, pressed against my shoulder to steady me.
"Easy, Ardelle,"
I looked up, my breath catching. Lord Kaldric was sitting beside me, his heavy cloak discarded, his tunic unlaced at the throat while I was only in my petticoat.
I gasped, my hand abruptly spreading over my chest to conceal myself with burning cheeks, "M-My Lord? What are you doing?"
He looked exhausted, the Obsidian Pillar was covered in the dust of travel and the shadows of a man who hadn't slept in days.
"Writing poems on your body. What do you think I am doing? Applying ointment, of course."
He was holding a clean tunic for me, his gaze focused intently on the task of helping me wear the dress. He didn't look away, but there was no lust in his eyes, only a quiet, burning reverence.
He moved with a calmness, guiding my arms into the sleeves and gathering the fabric over my bruised torso with the gentleness of a man handling a wounded person.
"Did…" I swallowed hard, "Did My Liege command you to return? Is there a new objective?"
Lord Kaldric paused, his fingers tightening slightly on the hem of my tunic. A small, sad smile moved across his lips—a look so human it made my heart ache.
"No," he said, his silver eyes meeting mine with a beautiful honesty.
"The King wanted me at the vanguard. I came for you because I chose to. I came myself."
My eyes stung, a heat rising in them, clutching his forearm with quivering lips, "Truly?"
"Truly," he replied, resting his forehead against mine. "Though I was late, again."
Then, as if realizing the weight of his admission, he cleared his throat and looked at the fire, his posture stiffening into that familiar, endearing awkwardness.
A smile adorned my lips, hugging my knees, "You abandoned me before. This time, you didn't."
He began to fidget with his own gauntlets, unable to maintain the intense eye contact.
"Ardelle, I know, I... I am not a man of many words, Ardelle. But I am a man of my own will. And my will was to find you."
He went quiet for a moment, the silence stretching between us until it felt heavy.
He looked back at me, his expression darkening with a question that seemed to pain him.
"Ardelle, were you…" he started slowly.
He looked at my hands, then at the entrance of the cave where the snow was falling.
He seemed to realize that I hadn't been waiting for him—that I had given up– That his appearance was utterly shocking for me.
He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.
"Nevermind. It doesn't matter now."
He began to pull away, likely to give me space to sleep, but the fear of the dark space surged back into my throat.
The thought of waking up and finding him gone, finding that this was all a dream, was more than I could endure, it would shatter me.
"My Lord?" I whispered, reaching out a trembling hand.
He stopped, turning back to me. "What is it, Ardelle?"
"Could you…" I hesitated, my face flushing.
"Could I hold your hand? For the rest of the night? I am afraid that if I let go, the morning will take you back to the King."
Kaldric stared at my hand, then at me. For a long heartbeat, I thought he would refuse, that the Pillar would find the request too soft, too beneath a Commander.
Instead, he let out a long, shuddering sigh and sat back down on the furs beside me.
"Even if I say no. I am too sure you would follow me or bump into me like always. The exasperation you cause me is ceaseless, Lady." He muttered though his tone was not scolding at all, causing me to smile nervously.
He reached out and enveloped my small, battered hand in his massive palm. His skin was hot, his grip firm and protective.
"Sleep." he murmured, leaning his head back against the stone wall.
"I am not going anywhere, Ardelle,"
I closed my eyes, my thumb tracing the hard lines of his knuckles. He stayed exactly like that, unmoving, a silent sentinel in the dark, guarding the woman.
But, as he drifted to sleep. I couldn't help but to think.
Was he here because he 'wanted' to or to redeem for breaking his promise and recover his scarred pride?