Dryad-Born(34)

“Let me see your ear,” he said.

She shook her head and eased away from him. “It doesn’t hurt much,” she lied.

“Let me see it,” he insisted. The light was slowly improving, but it was not bright enough for her to fully see his eyes. She would not have dared to try stealing his memories, though.

Gingerly, she combed her fingers through her knotted strands and brushed the hair back from her ear, exposing the wound to him. She looked at her left hand and saw dried blood on her fingers. He saw it as well, his expression hardening subtly.

The Kishion pulled out his leather flask and unstoppered it. He motioned the lip of it toward her hands and she cupped them. He poured water there and then took her wrists and began rubbing her palms together, letting the water spill through her fingers. He ripped a torn segment of his cloak from off her shoulders and dabbed her hands dry. Afterward, he examined her hands, appraising them at different angles, and then folded up the fabric. He poured more water onto it and moved closer to her, so close she could feel his breath. It was frightening having him so close. The scars on his face were becoming more pronounced as the sunlight began to swell across the horizon.

He pressed the sodden fabric against her cheek and she flinched with the sting. The Kishion set down the wad and turned, picking up a sprig with green leaves that was near where he had been sitting. He snapped off one of the leaves and offered it to her.

“Chew this. It will ease the pain.”

She stared at the leaf curiously and smelled it first. The aroma was unfamiliar, and it tasted bitter but not disgusting. She worked it with her teeth as he took up the rag again and started cleaning the blood from her neck. In a few moments, he had cleaned up the stains and then blotted around the tender areas of her ear where it had torn. It stung fiercely, but she clenched her fists and was determined to brave it. He studied her closely, examining the wound, and then nodded with satisfaction.

“Thank you,” she murmured, uncertain as to his motives.

He snorted, looking away from her at the first blush of dawn. They watched the sky together in silence as it began to turn green, then yellow.

He turned back and looked at her, his eyes wary. “I’m sorry I frightened you so badly.” The words came out hesitantly. “I lost control of myself last night. That doesn’t happen very often. I regret it.”

Phae stared at him in surprise. An apology was not what she had been expecting. He could have rebuked her for running away despite his warning. He could have justified himself in countless ways. For a moment, she wondered if her damaged ear had heard it wrong.

She looked down at her hands in her lap, struggling with her dread. “Why do you even care?” she asked.

“Because you are harmless. Innocent. A frown would have been enough to prove my displeasure,” he answered. “I acted last night out of…fear. I lost control. That has been happening to me…more and more.” He sighed, rubbing his mouth. His breathing started to quicken. He shook his head.

“Fear?” Phae asked, perplexed. “Nothing can harm you. You were stung by a hundred bees and then jumped off the roof. Trasen shot an arrow at you and it didn’t even pierce you. Look at you now. Your clothes are torn, but the bear didn’t harm you. You were afraid? Of what?”

The Kishion stared down at the matted grass. He plucked one and twirled the stalk between his fingers. “When I am near the Arch-Rike, my thoughts are always calm and orderly. I understand what is happening and how to interpret my feelings and the emotions of others. But I am far beyond the influence of his power right now, and I have found those thoughts and feelings less certain and—” He paused, thinking how to stay it. “This will not make sense to you. Never mind.”

“Please,” she said, almost reaching out to touch his arm, but she did not dare. “Try. You frighten me for certain. You are not…afraid of me are you?”

He met her eyes for a moment then looked down. “I’m afraid of my past. Of what I cannot remember.”

Phae swallowed. He was starting to open up to her. She had always had a natural gift for making people trust her with confidences. Even though she was terrified of the Kishion, her natural empathy had caused her to respond to his words, his confusion. The more she understood him, the better chance she had of escaping him. She did not ask him to elaborate. She just gave an encouraging nod for him to continue.

“A Kishion does not have a name. We do not have a past. I do not know where I was born. I cannot remember my childhood or anything beyond a few weeks ago when I was summoned…to serve the Arch-Rike again.”