Chapter 20
Leo made camp away from the others, away from the low fire and the nervous chatter. They were only a few hours away from Dernier, but a scout had returned with news to stay put for the moment. Something wasn’t right according to Sir Tristan, who’d spoken with the advance scout. He’d heard nothing about a fresh attack on the keep and he’d had spies scouring the countryside since they’d routed the last invasion.
Now everyone was on edge. Drayton’s men were suspicious of Sir Harold’s men for bringing the news in the first place. They were only going by what they themselves had been told and had come out of duty to warn Sir Walter. They were rightfully offended by Drayton’s men’s grumblings.
Leo unrolled a wool blanket and lay down on it. At any rate, after all the arguments, it was too late to move forward now. The moonless sky was cloudy and threatening a storm. Soon it would be pitch black. He intended to get some sleep in case a battle broke out in the night. And if all they did was continue on to Dernier in the morning, he’d be well-rested to face the confusion of close to a hundred men not knowing what they should do. Being prepared for a battle and then not getting it was almost worse than actually fighting the battle in Leo’s experience.
He took out a piece of bread and gnawed on the dry crust, feeling sorry for the young men who’d been so riled up that morning that they’d forgotten to think of food. He heard someone thrashing around in the trees, probably trying to snare something to eat. Poor fool. Nothing wild would have stayed around with all the racket the combined armies were making.
He heard the thrashing again and a decidedly high-pitched grunt. Grunts weren’t normally ladylike, but he would have sworn he heard a woman quietly muttering to herself. Was he having an episode? He’d had qualms about coming along, not wanting to put anyone at risk if he made a bad decision or worse, completely froze up in an unsavory situation. He never knew when the darkness would descend. It could be something as small as a whiff of smoke hitting his nostrils that would set him down the path of scrambled memories.
He would have been better suited to stay at the castle and protect the ladies, but Sir Walter had asked him to go along. Claimed he was too old to face anymore battles but would be grateful to have a good man such as Leo out there in his stead. Since most of Sir Walter’s men were already at Dernier, he confided that he needed someone he could trust. Though Drayton was soon to be family and Sir Harold was an old acquaintance, he had said he trusted his longtime neighbor better than any of them.
It had touched Leo and he’d wanted to thank Sir Walter for the past kindnesses the man had shown him. So, instead of admitting he might be a hindrance, he’d gravely promised to do his best. And all day during the slow slog along the road, he’d felt fine. Excited for the promise of a last battle, even. Something that might help redeem himself, if only to himself.
But now, he thought he heard a woman’s voice in the trees. It had to be the madness. He got up to join the others at the fire, thinking some mindless conversation would stave it off.
“Leo.”
He heard his voice called from the darkened tree line. It wasn’t an episode. Even as a loudly hissed whisper, he knew that voice. He tramped across the last bit of open field and hurried into the trees.
“Come out,” he commanded quietly, praying he was mistaken. She could not be so foolish as to follow them. A skinny, dirty figure stumbled out from behind a thorny bramble bush. He took a few steps closer, thinking his eyes were deceiving him in the darkness. “Good God, you are that foolish,” he said, pulling her the rest of the way from her hiding spot. “And dressed as a boy?”
Sophie grinned up at him, her white teeth shining from her dirt-encrusted face. “I thought I’d never find you,” she said breathlessly. “And I almost got lost because the trees suddenly thickened and I had to detour. Nearly couldn’t find the road again. But here you are.”
She threw her arms around his waist and he could feel her trembling. It was the only thing that kept him from tossing her away from him and then throttling her. Despite the brave smile she’d given him, he could tell she was frightened half out of her wits. Instead of throttling her, he pulled her close, his mind filling with every terrible thing that might have happened to her. Which made him want to throttle her again.
“What about your shoulder?” he demanded, holding her away from him and giving her a killing look. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“My shoulder’s not bad. And I didn’t think so at first,” she admitted, looking at the ground. “But when I lost the road I started to wonder.”
“Foolish woman,” he said, trying not to laugh at her candor. “Your father must be sick with worry by now. Ah, I see that never crossed your mind.”
She backed away from him and held her head. “I—I keep forgetting that Sir Walter thinks he really is my father.”
He shook his head, not knowing what to do with her or why she was there in the first place. “Sophie, if you’re going to make it in this world, you have to remember your place in it.” He took pity on her as she continued to stare at the ground in her pathetic disguise. Her hair had come free from whatever she’d done to make it look less feminine and it hung in lank tangles around her shoulders. A twig stuck out at the side, and he could no longer hold back his laughter. “Are you hungry? Take my pity while I’m offering it, for I’m certain I’ll be enraged again in a moment.”
He made her promise to stay put and hurried back to his bedroll, grabbing his small bag of food supplies. As a second thought, he grabbed up all his belongings. He couldn’t let her sleep alone in the woods, after all. He gave her some bread and set up his new camp.
“You did that so fast,” she said admiringly when he motioned for her to have a seat on his blanket.
He rolled his eyes at her blatant flattery, but the part of his grizzled old heart that was still tender told him she meant the compliment. “Why are you dressed as a filthy cook’s lad and why did you risk your life following an army on its way to battle?”
“These clothes actually belonged to a page,” she clarified, swallowing the dry bread with difficulty. He handed her his flask of wine.
“Then he should be punished for being so unkempt. And my second question?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wanted to keep you from going at all, but you were already gone. So my only other option was to catch up with you.”
“I’m certain that wasn’t your only other option. You had hundreds of better options.”
“Yes, I get it now,” she said testily. “After running all those miles in the woods, I get it was a dumb idea. But I had to see you. They said the battle would be a slaughter.” She put down the flask of wine and pushed away her unfinished hunk of bread. “I wanted to see you again.”
“I don’t understand you at all,” he said. She reached for his hand and he let her take it. Knowing it was a bad idea, perhaps as foolish as Sophie coming after him, he pulled it to his lips and lightly kissed the back of it. Then he dropped it, astounded at what he’d done. He definitely was the bigger fool. “I thought I made it clear to you that you should set your sights elsewhere.”
His voice didn’t come out as cruel as he’d wanted it to. In fact, it came out sounding as if he were pleading with her. How much longer could he keep this up? His heart and mind were tearing him to pieces with their inability to agree. He knew he wanted Sophie. He knew he couldn’t have her.
She moved closer to him and he could see anger blaze in her eyes, almost lighting up the dark night. “Let me tell you something,” she said. “It might not mean anything to you since our times are so different. But I was forty-seventh in a class of eighty. That’s not awesome. It’s not even average. But I still got early admittance and a partial scholarship to the school I wanted to go to. I volunteered half my free time and spent the other half working part time jobs. I got a recommendation from every one of my teachers and employers and spent a total of sixty hours writing and rewriting my application essay. I’m tenacious. I persevere. I get what I want.”
“You’re right,” he said, squinting to see her better, entranced by her speech though it made little sense to him. “I only understood a bit of that. I think I got the important bits, though. But—”
She held up her hand to keep him from speaking and when she thought he might anyway, she pressed her fingers against his lips. “You’re going to say it doesn’t apply to you because you don’t want me, right? Right?” Still she didn’t remove her fingers from his mouth. “Well then, I’ll say you’re lying. I know you want me.” Her voice broke and she scuttled away from him, pulling her knees to her chest.
How could he argue with this thunderstorm of a woman? And yet, how could he let her blow away his convictions?
“How can you love me?” he asked, desperate for her to convince him. “Knowing what I’ve told you? You’re young and beautiful and vibrant and I’m old and hideous and broken.”
“You’re not that much older than me. I know about this time. No one would blink if you married a twelve year old. And I think you’re handsome. Your scars are part of you, the ones on the inside as well as the outside. And there’s nothing so broken about you that can’t be fixed, you dumb ox.” She grappled around beside her until she found the piece of bread and hurled it at him. It bounced off his shoulder and landed on the forest floor somewhere behind him.
“That was our supper, you know,” he said.
His mind screamed at him, but his heart took that particular battle with ease. He reached out and pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair.
*
All of Sophie’s fears melted away at Leo’s touch. She’d honestly thought she might have been lost in the woods and that whatever enemy lurked there would kill her slowly the moment she stumbled into their camp. Luckily for her, she’d stumbled onto Leo instead. Whenever she was positive the curse was determined to destroy her for messing things up, she had an angel watching over her instead.
She’d expected to get scolded, perhaps severely. What she hadn’t expected was the look of pure terror on Leo’s face when he realized it was her coming out of the bushes. He’d been concerned for her safety, scared to lose her. She knew then that it had been the right decision to go after him.
Leo pulled her close and buried his face in her neck, nuzzling her throat. “How could you do such a dangerous thing?” he asked before leaning back to look in her eyes. “Risk your life for a few words.”
“I wanted you to know in case…”
He smothered her words in a kiss. His strong hands slid down her back and pulled her onto his lap. She eagerly arranged herself to be more comfortable, straddling his crossed legs and resting her hands on his shoulders. There was the barest bit of light coming from where the others had made camp. She broke the kiss and struggled to see his face in the gloom. When she couldn’t to her satisfaction, she ran her fingers down his cheeks and across his brow instead.
“Are you still scowling at me? I can’t tell.”
She felt the sides of his cheeks go up in a smile. “I am close to growling at you for scaring me so badly. Didn’t you think about the last time you wandered about in the forest alone?”
He touched her shoulder above the wound. It was almost healed but still ached when she overexerted herself. It ached now, but the pleasure of being held on Leo’s lap and hearing the concern in his voice was better than his elixir at making her forget the pain. She wanted to demand he tell her why he was so scared, desperate to hear him admit he loved her at last. Instead, she let her fingers trail down to his collar bone. Leaning in, she gently kissed the bit of his scar that cut through his eyebrow, then the tip of his nose. She faltered at his lips, feeling shy for some reason even though they’d been kissing only a moment before.
“Sophie,” he whispered, his lower lip brushing hers. “My Sophie.”
It was enough for her for now. And when he twined his fingers into her tangled mess of hair and kissed her again, she could feel everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. She burrowed under his tunic until she felt the hard, hot skin of his chest. Gasping as his tongue traced her lip, she ground against him, pulling at the tunic to reach more of his flesh. She wanted to feel every inch of him.
He slid his hands low and, in a smooth, effortless motion, she was on her back on the blanket. He brushed her hair away and leaned close to kiss her jaw, moving slowly downward until he reached the collar of her own filthy tunic.
“Ah, bother. This has no laces,” he said, running his hands along her sides. As he sat up on his knees to assess the tunic situation, she slipped it over her head, glad to be free of the smelly thing.
He did the same, flinging his tunic and undershirt to the side with a slight whoosh of air. Before she could feel chilled, he covered her with his warm body, twisting to the side to ease her shift out of the borrowed breeches. She wished she could see him better but was glad enough to have his hands along her sides and the warmth of him so close to her. Finally, finally. It didn’t matter that there were no words yet. She knew him well enough to know he would never take it this far if he didn’t love her. Good intentions wouldn’t be enough for a man like Leo. And he’d never, ever betray her. That much she felt as sure as she felt his fingers tugging at her breeches.
“I love you,” she whispered as his lips brushed against her stomach. It didn’t matter if he heard her. She hadn’t really meant him to, not wanting to scare him off. He paused, mouth, fingers—everything stopped. She couldn’t breathe.
“This… perhaps…” His head dropped to her chest and she craned her neck to kiss his curls.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Not again.”
He chuckled. He had to have been remembering their moment in the woods as clearly as she was. “Ah, but…” He pushed up and looked down at her. In the faintest light from the roadside she could see his furrowed brow.
She reached to smooth his forehead, slide her fingers down his cheeks. “Don’t stop.” It was a command. One he followed with a relieved sigh. “So much better,” she said as the kisses began anew. First her throat, then her breasts, down her ribcage. He was very thorough.
“Yes, I agree,” he murmured and she was able to relax into the luxurious exploration of her body. “Your skin is like—”
Before she could find out what her skin was like, all hell broke loose. Horses whinnied and shrieked, men harshly called to each other. Leo swore and was gone from her in a second.
She scrambled for her boy clothes and got them on in record time, not bothering with her hair. It was too far gone to do anything about. If she made it back to the castle alive, Batty would blow a gasket to see the state of it. Would she make it back to the castle alive? Worse even than that worry was the fact that, once again, they were being interrupted. Her confused frustration gave over to pure fear when she saw Leo zipping around in full warrior mode.
“Are we under attack?” she asked.
Leo already had his clothes on and everything was packed save for the blanket, which he now whipped off the ground and rolled into a neat ball. Even through her terror, she had to admire his capability. He truly was a seasoned soldier. But would he be able to handle a violent fight without slipping into one of his episodes? All her concern for herself disappeared and was replaced with fear for Leo. She’d stay glued to his side no matter what he said or did. She reached down and grabbed the sword he hadn’t yet attached to his side and tried to wield it. The thing seemed to weigh half as much as she did and she staggered forward.
He steadied her and took the sword, sliding it into its sheath in a way that couldn’t help but make her think of what she’d been so close to experiencing. She felt her face getting hot and reminded herself they were both in danger. She couldn’t be distracted with lusty daydreams. But it made her all the more determined to live. She wanted more of Leo. A lot more.
“We’re not under attack,” he said. “Not yet anyway. There’d be more noise.”
It seemed like there was plenty of noise, but he was the expert. “What then?”
“I’m going to find out. Stay here.” He grabbed her hands and pulled her close enough so that she could see his glare. “Stay here,” he repeated.
She huddled in the brush as he crashed his way down to the others. She wondered why they hadn’t been more stealthy in the first place, but there were so blasted many of them they probably thought they’d be invincible on the side of the road. The more she listened, she could tell it was more the sounds of a bunch of men scuffling to get their things in order rather than a bunch of men being slashed and hacked to bits. She grimaced at that awful thought and, once again, had to remind herself this wasn’t a weekend festival, it was actual medieval times.
“Did he forget about me?” she asked the trees.
They didn’t answer and she heaved herself off the ground to try and get a better look. When Leo had been beside her she hadn’t noticed how cold and damp it was. She paced to work out the kinks that had settled into her joints. Standing up, she could tell no one was in immediate danger and she crept to the side of the road, keeping to the tree line. Thinking she was doing a pretty good job of hiding, she was surprised when a big hand hauled her out from the trees.
“Did I not say to stay put? I was just coming back for you.”
“What’s happening?” she asked, more concerned with finding out what was going on than Leo’s angry tone. He shook his head at her and sighed with resignation.
“Some scouts from Dernier Keep were attacked,” he said.
“We’re on our way to help them?”
“They’re here, some are badly injured. Come, we must be on our way at once.”
He took her hand and led her through the thorny undergrowth and down the slight hill to the road. A few men gave her wide-eyed stares when they noticed who she was and what she was wearing, let alone whose hand she grasped, but quickly went back to their harried preparations. She saw a small cluster of men on the opposite side of the road, bloody and battered. With a cry of shock, she dropped Leo’s hand and raced across to them.
“Brom,” she said, taking his arm and turning him to her. His forehead had a nasty gash that oozed blood down the side of his face. He blinked at the sight of her then grinned.
“Lady Sophie, am I really seeing you? Or is my head worse than I suspected?”
“Your head looks plain awful, but it’s really me.”
Leo caught up with her and took her arm. “You’re from the scouting party?” he asked. “What happened?”
Another man broke away from the cluster of injured, his armor half-off to reveal a tunic soaked with blood. Through his look of pain, he glanced past her to answer Leo, then his head whipped back to stare at her.
“Lady Sophie, what are you—”
“Sir Tristan!” She reached for his hand and gripped it, taking her own hand back slick with blood. “You’re injured,” she said stupidly.
“Yes. It’s rather bad I think.” His eyes fluttered over her face and she thought he might faint, but he recovered and stood taller. She could tell every movement he made caused him agony. “Your sister Fay is well, I pray?”
“I pray the same,” she answered, thinking about Fay being locked in the chapel. “But I don’t know what’s going on back at the castle.”
This time, his look of pain went deeper than his wounds and he turned back to Leo. “Ah yes, what’s going on. When Sir Walter’s scout came yesterday to say this great army was on its way, I grew suspicious. There hadn’t been any activity in a sennight. But the marauders are wily and good at hiding, so I decided not to take the warning lightly.” He stopped to take a breath, the very act of speaking draining his energy. Sophie didn’t think he should be standing. Seeing how soaked in blood he was, she didn’t know how he was standing.
“It was marauders, then?” Leo asked, seeming oddly disappointed. “But Sir Harold’s men got word that the attack wouldn’t come from the north.”
“Indeed it didn’t,” Brom said, taking over for Tristan. “We circled well around, coming up just short of you.” He motioned to the men in the road, almost all of them mounted now, waiting for instruction. “Sir Tristan wondered if it was a ruse to get your men away from the castle, get them out in the open for an easier attack. We came upon a small group of spies and managed to dispatch most of them but they were fierce bastards, begging your pardon, Lady Sophie.” She nodded, not giving a hoot about the mild curse. “A few got away. They were heading south.”
“Toward the castle,” Sophie gasped.
“It might not have been a ruse to get us out of the castle to make it easier to attack us,” Leo said, glancing back at the road. He nodded when everyone appeared ready to set out.
Tristan struggled forward, reaching for his own horse. “I agree,” he said, coughing up a glob of blood. “They were making it easier to attack the castle.”
“Away!” Leo hollered. He grabbed Sophie’s hand and dragged her toward his horse. “Away to Grancourt with all speed.” The order echoed back amongst the ranks and she found herself hoisted into a saddle. Leo swept up behind her and wrapped his arm around her middle. “If there’s the slightest skirmish, you must drop from the horse and roll into the brush. Stay silent, stay put. I’ll come for you when it’s over.”
She shivered and huddled against him as the horse took off, jolting her shoulder and rattling her teeth. The sound of thundering hooves deafened her as the army raced back toward home. Home. For the first time, she thought of Grancourt Castle that way. She prayed for its safety as she clung to the saddle and for the safety of her family within its walls.
*
After the gates were flung open for their arrival, Sophie tried to hide herself so she could hear what was going on. Were enemies bearing down on them at that very moment? She’d seen the tops of the men’s heads through the dips in the crenellations as they prowled the top of the wall. Were they stockpiling arrows, readying catapults, boiling oil? She longed to know and her curiosity overtook her fear once they were safe within the castle walls.
“Come along, Lady Sophie.” Gunther towered over her hiding spot in the shadow of one of the rainspouts. He didn’t look like he thought she was safe. He circled her arm with his meaty hand and hauled her from her corner. “Your father and sisters have been tearing their hair out over you.”
They headed toward the chapel and she dragged her feet to no avail against the mountain of a man. “Are they very angry?” she asked, finally giving up and walking with some dignity.
“You should prepare to get hit,” he answered. He stopped for a moment and peered down at her. She was grateful to see his eyes were friendly and the beatings weren’t about to start just yet. “What led you to do such a thing?”
She shrugged. “I can’t explain it without getting embarrassed.”
“Ah, I thought as much,” he said. “I hope it was worth it. But let me know if you need me to break any necks, my lady.”
She was surprised he understood and hoped it was him quietly observing all along and not her being blatantly obvious in pursuing Leo. She blushed and looked down, fairly certain she’d been blatantly obvious. “Thank you, Gunther, that’s really nice. But no necks need breaking for now.”
He cracked his knuckles and smiled, then motioned for her to keep moving. At the chapel, he knocked three times in quick succession, then twice more slowly. A few seconds later, Batty threw open the door and shrieked.
“You’re alive. Oh, thanks to heaven. She’s alive!”
Anne raced forward and slapped Sophie hard across her cheek. “Father almost took to his bed he was so worried,” she said.
Looking like she wanted to hit Sophie again, she gave her a rough hug instead. Fay came forward next and smacked her good arm halfheartedly. She looked more curious than anything else and Sophie remembered.
“We saw Sir Tristan. He’s here. At least I hope he made it. He’s hurt. It’s really bad, Fay.”
Fay took off out the door, snaking past Gunther’s grabbing hands. Sophie mused she must have been a track star in her other life.
“Did you see Brom?” Batty asked, clinging to her sleeve. Her big eyes were even larger with mingled fear and hope.
“Yes, he’s hurt too, but not as—” Batty was gone before she could finish. With a mild curse, Gunther took off after them.
Sophie waited to see what direction he went and counted to ten. “I’m really sorry, Anne,” she said. She patted her gaping sister on the arm and jetted out of the chapel, determined not to be left behind.
She found the injured in the great hall, being tended to by Uncle Edgar and Leo. Fay sat beside an unconscious Tristan, sobbing and holding his bloody hand. Fortunately, Leo was with them, already stitching up a gaping hole in Tristan’s shoulder. She rubbed her own shoulder, feeling sympathy pains even though her spear wound had been a mere scratch compared to Tristan’s injury.
“Look,” Sophie said, hoping to get Fay to focus. “He’s got a cut on this arm we can clean while Leo fixes up his shoulder.”
She gathered some rags and a pitcher of water and hurried back, handing a rag to Fay. It looked like a knife slash, long but not too deep. Sophie swallowed against the thought of every microscopic germ that might already be working to take Tristan’s life.
“He lost so much blood,” Fay said miserably as she dabbed at the cut and poured water over it. “Why won’t he wake up?”
Sophie didn’t bother to point out Fay had already answered her own question and set about inspecting him for other wounds. It appeared his shoulder was the most serious. When she looked at Leo for any kind of hint about Tristan’s prospects, he only shrugged and went back to stitching.
“He asked about you,” Sophie said. “Specifically. I could tell he remembered.” She had hoped this would console Fay but, instead, it started a new bout of sobbing.
“It might be better if you ladies were to seek safety,” Leo said pointedly.
“I won’t leave him,” Fay said.
“I want to know what’s going on,” Sophie said at the same time. Neither one of them moved a muscle and, with a shake of his head, Leo kept stitching.
Batty and Brom joined them a moment later. Brom’s head was swathed in bandages and Batty kept a firm grip on his arm. It was clear he didn’t need such attention and just as clear that he relished getting it anyway.
“What news?” Leo asked without looking up.
“Nothing,” Brom told him. “Not a hair of anyone out of place.”
“How can that be possible? Sir Walter’s men know this land like the backs of their hands. How can anyone stay hidden from them?”
“It’s odd no one found even a trace of the lot we chased off,” Brom said. He nodded to the pale, silent Tristan. “He thinks someone around here is helping them.”
“Nonsense,” Leo said, sounding personally offended. “The people in these parts are neighbors, friends.”
“Are they, though?” Sophie piped up. “You’ve been gone a long time. Things might have changed.”
“Nonsense,” he repeated, but with less conviction. “The scoundrels probably thought better of it when they saw the size of the combined armies.”
“Could be,” Brom said, as affable as he could be under the circumstances. “Who are they all, anyway? Most of Sir Walter’s men were with us.”
Leo explained about Sir Harold showing up shortly after Lord Drayton arrived. Tristan’s eyes opened for a moment, causing Fay to squeal and call his name.
“Give him some time, Lady Fay,” Leo said, pulling up the last stitch and tying a firm knot. “Rest is what he needs most now. I’ll call for someone to watch over him for signs of fever—”
“You’re welcome to do that,” she interrupted. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
“She’s really not going anywhere,” Sophie said, tugging on Leo’s arm.
There were others who needed help and she knew she wouldn’t get a moment alone with him until they were all cared for. She craved a tender look or word from him, but from the moment she’d been torn from his arms it had been nothing but chaos. She was afraid she’d somehow get manhandled back into the chapel if she didn’t stay glued to his side. If that happened and those hidden enemies did attack, she had no idea when she’d see him again. If ever. She wasn’t going to let things end like that, hidden away and not knowing anything.
Batty added a nod of agreement. “If Lady Fay wants to stay, I’ll stay as well,” she offered sadly, looking at Brom. Sophie could see she yearned for a moment alone with him as well.
Brom pulled up a bench and lay down on it. “I’m as good here as anywhere. My vision’s still blurry from the blow to my head so I’ll just relax and keep an eye on things.”
“With your blurry vision?” Leo asked caustically, but he finally gave up and moved to the next injured man. He gave Sophie one pointed look after another as he peeled away the cloth that had crusted to the man’s wounded abdomen. “If you’re determined to stay,” he said, motioning with his chin toward the water pitcher, “you may as well be helpful.”
“Of course,” she said, grabbing the pitcher and beaming at him. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Go to the chapel,” he said, faster than she could blink. Then he sighed with resignation. “Hold his legs steady with all your might. He’s not going to like what I’m about to do.”
With only a slight hesitation, she draped herself across the wounded knight’s legs and held on while Leo poked at the gut wound and sopped up blood. If he thought he was going to send her running to the chapel to escape a little gore, he was mistaken. She was part of this time now, in all its bloodiness.
“We make a good team,” she grunted, exhausted from holding the thrashing man still while Leo did his anesthesia-free surgery. The poor knight finally passed out and she sat next to his limp form, wiping her brow.
Leo shook his head as he concentrated on closing up the wound. Then he smiled around the length of thread he bit off with his teeth. “Perhaps we do at that.”