The Conjured and the exiles

Lord Darcia awoke slightly stiff in an unfamiliar room. He had fallen asleep sometime last night watching the girl’s slumbering form. The young witch was still fast asleep, curled up on her side with her face towards him, high colour in her cheeks. It was probably close to noon he thought judging by where the light streaked the floor through the gaps in the drapes. Slowly, as he feared waking her Darcia reached out and touched his hand to her forehead. Her skin was hot and clammy. Just as he had feared it would be. The young woman stirred. Darcia snatched his hand away. He settled back in the chair and reflected on last nights events.

Lord Darcia’s miraculous appearance and subsequent rescue had not been as effortless as it appeared. He had ridden his horse hard in pursuit over rough and uneven ground and the poor animal was exhausted. He had decided to stop as soon as possible. Not just because of his mounts weary shuffling walk but also because his captive was in a terribly frail state. He had become resigned to the fact that all of his wicked plans for her punushment would have to wait.

By the time they had reached a wayside inn it had become apparent that the girl’s shivering was more serious than just a mere chill. And by the time he had set the place in to a panic (the proprietor in apoplexy that a noble was in his inn and the beds were not yet made, and there was only simple food to be had.) Daen had begun coughing; full bodied coughs that rose with a hiss and a wheeze from her lungs. Thankfully the very fact a noble had graced the establishment had dazzled the people of the place. Lord Darcia had worried about what kind of questions would be asked about a noble riding alone with a girl who looked half dead. However the inn keeper seemed more interested in offering the noble every hospitality he had to offer, even the shirt off his own back if the noble had mind to ask for it.

Daen had been taken off by the inn keeper’s wife in to the private parlour. ‘Where there was a good fire going and the poor dear could get warm.’ Lord Darcia in the mean time dealt with the inn keeper arranging rooms and the stabling of his horse growing more and more frustrated by the man’s toadying and flapping. Oh how he missed his own servents! Finally he managed to get away from the obnoxious man, and went to find the girl seriously concerned about her health. He had been somewhat surprised by how quickly her condition had deteriorated, it was like watching a flower wilt in the sun.

He entered the small private parlour which was adjoining their rooms for the night.
The Inn keeper’s wife was already geting Daen out of her soaking wet clothing. Daen was changing in her room when he got there. The older woman was taking a kettle off the fire and pouring boiling water in to a tea pot and chatting to the girl in the other room.

‘It was my Tina’s before she got married it’s probably going to be very large on you though.’ The old woman winked good naturedly at the Lord as he enterd.

Daen emerged wearing an overlarge woollen dressing gown and a very lose cotton robe she thanked the old woman hoarsely before succumbing in to another coughing fit that caused Darcia no little worry.

‘Dear, dear me. That’s what you get for been out in such horrid weather and you’re such a slip of a thing you remind me of my granddaughter such a skinny little thing she is as well.’ The old woman tutted as she stirred a liberal amount of honey in to the ginger tea then passed it to Daen who took it meekly and sat down buy the fire.

‘Every winter she gets the most horrendous colds. That what you get I say for not having any fat on you.’ The old woman was now poring boiling water in to a bowl she stirred it then eyed it critically. ‘Best let that cool for a bit.’

‘I always said to my daughter that she should get some meat on young Gilly. I suppose its fashionable for these girl's to be as thin as willow wands, still it’s not healthy. When she gets really bad I send Tina over my good goose grease and mustard ointment, but what I say is she would have been better off eating the goose beforehand and not getting sick in the first place.’

The young woman nodded solemnly. Sipping the hot tea carefully perched on large settle in overlarge nightgown and robe lord Darcia thought she looked like a naughty little girl as the old woman fussed about her. Finally desiring some privacy Darcia coughed under his breath. Unlike her husband the old woman knew how to take a hint and she moved to leave though with a slightly reproachful look at the Lord.

‘Make sure she gets to bed soon.’ She informed Lord Darcia sternly waggling a finger at him. ‘And use that wash on her grazes. And get her to eat something she said that she wasn’t hungry but she best eat I will send up some porridge with the meal my husbands getting ready for you.’ Lord Darcia was slightly incredulous, but nodded as the old woman passed by. When she left and the door was firmly closed he let out a low chuckle thoroughly amused.

‘I think she had adopted you.’ He said to her.

‘I wish I had a grandmother who was as nice as she is.’ The girl smiled followed by a coughing fit so violent that she spilt some of her drink.

Lord Darcia wandered over to the clay bowl and peered dubiously at its contence, giving it a good sniff. ‘Flowers?’

‘Calendula, nettle and Yarrow flowers.’ Daen corrected him. ‘They are common antiseptic herbs it’s for on my grazes.’

The masked noble picked up the bowl and a rag beside it and walked over to where the girl sat on the settle. It was in the old style, so it was almost more like bed than a seat, consisting of a deep box with something akin to a mattress lining it and a fur throw. Set by the fire it was a cozy place to curl up.

‘It should be cool enough to use now.’ Darcia said, sitting down close to Daen, placing the bowl on the floor.

‘I can clean my grazes myself.’ Daen protested nervously. Lord Darcia ignored her and rinsed the rag in the infusion wringing it out carefully. When he approached her with it she waved his hand away watching as if it were a snake about to strike.

Darcia tilted his head forward so that Daen could easily see his eyes and he spoke in a low calm voice that brook no opposition. ‘Don’t be obstinate.’

Daen met his gaze squarely his eyes unblinking. She sighed in defeat and pouted.

‘Hold out your hands.’

The young woman did as she was ordered bearing both hands palms up with a dramatic sigh. Her poor hands were a mess, Daen's unfortunate excursion along the cliff foot had in the process soured her skin, grazing both palms and there were deeper cuts along her fingers. Darcia studied each proffered appendage for a moment before gently beginning to cleanse the mistreated skin with the antiseptic infusion.

Daen watched quietly as he worked, it stung and she hissed. Lord Darcia looked up at her scrutinizing her reaction. ‘Is it too hot?’

‘No. It just stings.’

He nodded and went back to work, washing out the rag, and then applying it to her skin again, Daen wincing at intervals as the herb water soaked in to the various lacerations. Darcia cleansed not only her palms but every digit carefully, including where her nails had broken off and she had to admit that his gentle cleansing felt nice, like when a dog or a horse licks your hand.

‘Where else?’ Lord Darcia asked.

Daen somewhat reluctantly pulled up her sleeve to reveal a long graze up her arm where she had slipped over in a tide pool. There was even skin missing on her elbow. Bending down a little Darcia cleansed this wound as well. ‘How about the other one?’

‘That one too.’ She sighed revealing a similarly hurt appendage.

‘You are in the wars aren’t you?’ He said a vice laced with gentle mockery.

Daen scowled. ‘And whose fault is that?’

‘I was not the one who decided to scramble along the tide pools and Cliff side.’

Daen fell in to silence having no answer for that. She had been kicking herself for that stupid choice all evening and the fact that now she owed this noble twice for saving her life. Lord Darcia had already begun to work on her neglected arm. And as he worked on her elbow Daen partly lulled by the fire was left aware of how really good it felt as the damp cloth circled around the just of her elbow were it was most sensitive. She couldn’t say thank you but she could talk she cleared her throat nervously.

‘I’m surprised she had yarrow flowers. They have excellent antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, and antiallergenic properties, and is a good antiviral, astringent, and antiphrastic to boot.’

‘Oh?’ Darcia did not pause in his ministrations.

Daen let out a little cough. ‘I was training as a healer, so I know a lot of herb law.’

‘Were you training with the guild?’

‘Yes, first in Treff, then in Porth and lately at the collage in Mawnawas.’

‘You moved around a lot.’

‘I suppose, I never really thought about it.’

Darcia sat back finished. ‘How about your knees, are they grazed as well?’

Daen nodded pointing to her left knee. ‘Yes, only the one when I fell.’

The young woman was startled when the noble simply caught hold of her one shapely ankle and pulled it to lie across his lap as if she was riding side saddle so that her body was pressed against his right side. He then pulled the robe back to revel the broken skin on her knee and shin. Once again he began to wash the wound with the same gentle and thorough care as he had before. Daen watched him work, and she wondered where a noble had learnt how to wash a wound like a healer. She was fascinated by his hands, strong long fingers, fingers that held a sword, and rains with dexterity and skill; the same dexterity and skill that he was using now.

The young woman having noticed his hands also began to notice that Lord Darcia’s innocent and gentle ministrations on her leg were evoking more sensations, it was making her feel hot and tingly, and not just where the rag was touching. The tingling was beginning to centering at her core. If she had not been as tired as she was then Daen undoubtedly would have had better control of herself but as it was without thought process been involved she gently rocked up against the noble’s thigh as her body instinctively tried to relive the throb between her legs.

Darcia’s hands stilled. Daen realized that her body had betrayed her and she flushed red hot. Lord Darcia’s fingers softly scratched over her skin on her knee as he flexed his hand, his breathing had deepened. Daen’s heart began to beat a fast staccato.

The noble turned to look at the young woman his masked face scant centimeters from her flushed countenance. His palms itched to touch her. In the fire light her eyes were wide her pupils so large that her eyes were bottomless and dark. He leaned in even closer if his mask did not separate them he could have easily kissed her. His free hand twitched to move up to his face, but at that moment the young woman fell into another violent coughing fit.

Ruefully the man patted her back until it subsided. He passed her the cup of ginger tea now only luke warm. She sipped it gratefully. Moment lost and with fortuitous timing the innkeeper arrived with food.

‘You had better eat something.’ Darcia said revealing a bowl of steaming hot porridge.

‘I don’t really feel like anything.’

He gave her that stern look again. ‘You will eat even if I have to spoon feed you like a baby.’

Daen relented but ate scantily, to tired to eat all that much. Lord Darcia abstained from eating for the moment, and instead went to change out of his travel stained garments in to something fresher. When he returned Daen had finished.

‘Are all your clothes black?’

Darcia looked down at his outfit, black breaches, black stockings, a black lose shirt, and a black neck cloth. ‘Most of them, but not all.’ He said in reply.

‘I don’t believe you.’ She yawned. Then fell yet again in to coughing before he could reply.

‘I think you should go to bed.’

The dark haired woman nodded in agreement and left Darcia to enjoy his meal alone. Darcia had intended to return to his own bed that night, but the sound of her hacking cough was distressing and he decided to check on his little witch after asking the inn keepers wife about what other herbs she had in her possession.

‘Are you alright little one?’ He asked her softly not sure whether she was yet asleep.

The girl rolled over. ‘Lord Darcia? Oh it is you. Oh… I feel like I have been trampled by a herd of horses!’

‘Here drink this it should help.’ He offered her a large cup of fragrant smelling tea. She sipped it dubiously and scrunched her face up.

‘It’s bitter!’ She complained. ‘I suppose that means it’s good for me. What’s in it?’

‘Yarrow, elm bark, ginger, honey, wild cherry bark, nettle, some peppermint; just about everything she has. I wish she had some colt’s foot as well but it was not to be.’

Daen took another draught of the tisane again scrunching up her face at the bitter taste. Lord Darcia sat in the chair close to the bed waiting for the girl to finish the drink. He had forgotten to add that they had also added some strong poppy syrup to the tea. The girls green eyes watched him over the rim.

‘Why are you been nice to me now?’ Daen asked, the fact that his personality had undergone a if not complete change but a large one had confused and bugged her for a while now.

‘Nice?’ he replied lazily.

‘Well you’re looking after me.’

He sighed. ‘You’re not very valuable to me dead. I can be twelve kinds of basterd to get what I want. But while you’re in the pitiful state that you’re in right now it would be counter productive to punish you. As the saying goes there is no pint in whipping a horse whose lame on all legs.’

‘So when I’m better it will go back to as it was when I first met you?’ she asked sounding a little deflated.

‘Perhaps, it depends entirely on you my dear.’ Lord Darcia returned levelly. Daen finished her drink, noticing the thick stickiness at the bottom. Darcia lent forwards and took the cup from her.

‘Poppy syrup.’She said tonelessly.

She couldn’t see him smile, but she knew he was, she could practically picture the smug smirk. ‘To help you sleep.’ He assured her.

Daen coughed again. ‘I just hope it works I feel like I’m breathing through treacle!’

Darcia suddenly felt much more concerned. He sat forwards suddenly. ‘Would you mind if I listened to your chest?’

Daen rolled her eyes. ‘As if I haven’t heard that one before.’

‘I’m serious child.’

Daen hated how he did that, made her feel like a little girl with just the tone of his voice. Still the tense line of his body let her know he was genuinely concerned.

‘Fine.’ She sulked and sat back so he had access to her front. Darcia knelt over her he pulled the robe open, and then placed his ear against the top of her breast, though how he could hear through two lots of fabric was beyond her. Having him so close again and hunching over her made her heart race. His sent was heavy and heady rising off his warm body up to her.

‘Don’t hold your breath, try to breathe normally.’ He scolded her.

While the girl concentrated on breathing in and out Lord Darcia was listening intently. There was a slight wheeze, like the faint rustle of leaves as she breathed out. It could be nothing serious, but then again. He sat up but continued to look at her.

‘Did it sound alright?’ Daen asked when he didn’t say anything.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think there is anything to worry about.’ He sounded somewhat unconvinced.

Daen was beginning to feel the effects of the poppy syrup a warm heavy drowsiness. ‘I caught the Blood plague two years ago, it was in my lungs, and I don’t think they have been the same since.’

‘Blood plague?’ Lord Darcia was suddenly intent. ‘You survived.’

‘mhhhm.’ She sighed. ‘I seem to be good at that.’

‘What?’

‘Surviving.’

Lord Darcia let out a low laugh. Daen smiled in response. ‘I suppose I should give you something to call me by.’

‘Are you going to give me your name?’ He asked somewhat surprised but at the same time pleased. She reached up to touch his mask, when he didn’t react she traced her fingers over the masks lips.

‘I don’t know it depends upon you?’ she replied mimicking laughingly his earlier answer. Her nimble fingers moved to pull at the masks sides. He caught her hands.

‘Don’t.’

Daen froze. The noble turned his face away and looked down at the floor.

‘I see.’ She murmured. He looked back at her.

‘I….’ He began, but couldn’t finish, and so released her imprisoned hands.

She lifted the corner of her mouth in a half smile. ‘It’s alright.’ Soon after that she had fallen to sleep. Darcia knew he should probably leave but he stayed watching her and was eventually lulled by the rhythmic sound of her breathing, and the smell of ginger bread and vanilla, the smell of her skin which still haunted his nose from when he had his ear pressed against her earlier and he wondered why he was so adverse to taking his mask off when she wanted him to, but he had been so close to taking it off himself earlier.