Clans of Luteri Bk. 02 Ch. 08-End

Then Kane's eyes were drawn to Ruthe, who had put his knife away and left his careless pose by the wall and was staring at her, looking so stupid in his face as if his warhorse had thrown and then trampled him and he was just finding his feet again.

"Go away, Helene," Kane said quickly, looking at him.

But when he turned his head, Helene was looking back at Ruthe, taking in the Corsaire warrior's face, his long dark hair and eyes, the breadth of his shoulders, her eyes sweeping him and then dropping, long lashes, suddenly seeming shy.

"I am dead," Kane said bleakly to the ceiling. "I am dead and I have gone to the place where the Alverian sky god tortures evil men for eternity."

"You're Helene?" Ruthe said as if Kane hadn't spoken.

"I am," she answered.

"She was just leaving," Kane insisted. "Helene, you were just leaving."

"What, Kane?" Helene said, her cheeks flushing. "Am I not allowed to greet our allies? They did save our lives."

Kane tried to raise his head again, falling back, gaping at her.

"Am I not injured enough for you?" he said indignantly.

Ruthe strode to stand in front of her, slowly looking at her down and up.

"Don't mind him, Helene," Ruthe said, smiling at her lazily. "The Tavishi is ill with fever, I hope, and he has hit his head, I think, and he was never very bright to begin with."

Helene's mouth actually twitched

"Helene!" Kane cried, seeing it.

"I'm sorry, Kane," she said, looking down, the dimples in her cheeks deepening.

Ruthe's eyes were roaming her like he was fascinated. He stepped closer, his head tipping to the side to see her face. She glanced up, her eyes lighting with interest, and then at Kane.

Kane hesitated. Ruthe turned and looked at him. He met the man's eyes.

"Helene, this is Ruthe of Corsaire," Kane said, his voice neutral.

They both watched as Helene froze, the color leaving her cheeks. She swallowed. She looked up at the Corsaire warrior.

"You're Ruthe?" she said.

Ruthe's face had become grim, seeing her reaction. He nodded once.

"I am."

Helene backed away from him toward the door. She turned in the doorway, glancing at Ruthe again at the threshold. He was staring back at her. She dragged her eyes away from him.

"I will tell the healers you are awake, Kane," she said. "They'll bring something for the pain."

She gave one last glance at Ruthe and left. Ruthe stared at the doorway for a long moment after she was gone. Then he walked to the window, looking out.

"Maele?" Ruthe asked him.

"Yes," Kane answered, his voice even. "He offered her his oath when they were younger. Helene didn't accept. He was only ever a friend to her. But after what happened at the festival with—."

Kane stopped. He still couldn't say that man's name. Ruthe was looking out the window.

"With Veris of Corsaire," Ruth finished for him, his voice low. "I hope he died badly, Tavishi, and that it took a very long time."

"I was not inclined to be merciful," Kane said, deciding not to relive that horror at this moment. "After we retrieved her, Maele was the only one Helene would have near her. Not me, not our father. She couldn't speak. She wouldn't come out of her rooms. Maele used to carve animals for her. She'd open her window and line them up, sitting there looking out, waiting for him to return. Maele had told me that morning he'd promised her a Luterian horse carved from black wenge wood. I told him to wait for me. I didn't know he'd gone alone to find some to carve for her until it was too late."

Ruthe reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out something small. Kane watched as the man looked at it in his hand. Ruthe finally placed it on the windowsill. A small black Luterian horse, carved from wenge wood, unfinished. Over fifteen years Ruthe must have carried it.

"You'll maybe give that to her, Tavishi," Ruthe said, leaving him.

#

Aslin opened the door and stepped out into the Tavishi Healer's Hall to the garden, the scent of herbs, small pathways. Kane was finally asleep, at her urging taking the tonic for pain the healers gave him. She drew a deep breath, the fragrance soothing. She saw Ruthe sitting on the bench on the winding path. Aslin hesitated. They hadn't spoken since the forest in Corsaire territory. She went and joined him, sitting next to him, putting her hands on her lap. They sat in silence.

"When you become a warrior for your clan, they tell you about it," Ruthe finally said without looking at her. "Beshrat. Every Luterian warrior must face it in his life. The crisis when a person either chooses what is honorable or what is wanted. It is Shai's test of faith for us. Sometimes there is no right answer, but just a choice, as when the Tavishi protected you, putting you ahead of his clan and dishonoring himself. That was the answer he gave to Shai, and I don't think she disapproved. I never thought that I would fail in the face of mine."

"You didn't fail, Ruthe—," she began.

Ruthe looked at her, his face bitter, and she stopped.

"If Kavini hadn't stopped me, I would have assaulted you, Aslin, and dragged you to a cave out of the sight of others for the shame of the act and restrained you until Tavishi were defeated and those you loved were dead. I would have told myself I was protecting you, keeping you safe, that it was best for our clan. I would not have listened to you. If you fought me too hard, I might have hurt you, and I would have commanded Deter to hurt Ilian if you had called on her to defend you."

Aslin's heart was pounding. She couldn't look away from him.

"I was ready to deny you my body in defense of your bond, which is your right to ask of me," he continued. "I was ready to deny you your freedom and your right to die with your clan. Those were my intentions, those dark deeds, because I couldn't let go of my hate. I failed you badly. I failed my clan, and my High Lord, and myself."

There was pain in his voice. He reached out and touched her cheek.

"And I would have done this to you, my pretty cousin, broken your trust, who has already endured so much from men. I saw the hate in your eyes. I hope you can forgive me someday, Aslin."

Ruthe got up and left her, striding out of the gardens, her eyes on his back.

#

Kane lay in their rooms, in the bed, on his back, unable to draw a full breath, hot and then cold, itchy and in pain, restless and so frustrated, watching the Corsaire. It had been two days since he'd woken in the Healer's Hall, four days since Duellan attacked. He'd spoken with his father before they'd carried him up here in a litter, Munse apologizing repeatedly when he was jostled. He had been trapped here ever since, and Aslin with him.

Tavishi and Corsaire had declared peace. Kavini and Ruthe would return to Tavishi Hall in eight days. Metas, the Duellan High Lord, was in the Tavishi dungeon mourning his son and heir, Lyle, dead on the field, those warriors of the Duellan clan who had not been killed also in the dungeons.

The tonic the healers gave Kane for pain made him groggy and he'd thrown it up, so he refused it. He shifted irritably, sending a jab through his leg.

He could use a distraction, at the very least. The Corsaire could ease him for pity, if nothing else.

The healers had advised him to rest on his back, only a small prop, and he wasn't allowed to move. Later they would bring a man to help him to walk. They'd told Aslin this as well and she wouldn't fuck him, refused him for his own health.

The fire was large and warm, the only light in the room. The Corsaire was lying back in the steaming bath in front of it, one leg up so he saw her knee, her other foot braced on the edge—she had the prettiest feet—her hair over the side in a great silky dark fall that trailed on the floor, just her forehead visible.

As he watched, she disappeared, dunking her head under, pulling her hair into the water. She came out of the water tits first, her head back, streaming. She washed her face and slowly stood up, wet all over in the firelight, pulling her hair over her shoulder and beginning to wash it, starting at the ends.

Her breasts were full and firm and jiggling, her nipples rising when she brought her arms up to massage her hair, her belly so sweet, the shock of dark hair between her pale thighs, her hips bliche. She was humming softly, not looking at him. She began to wash her body, his eyes following her slippery hands over her belly, between her legs, her pink nipples hard and disappearing and popping out from behind them, slick with the soap.

It was maddening he was so aroused watching her. He grunted with frustration. She glanced at him. She turned her back to him as if this would give him some relief from the sight of her. As if the back of her were less interesting to him.

His eyes ran over her delicate pale shoulders and down to the deep dip of her waist, her round butt. She turned back around and picked up the bowl, putting it into the water, bringing it up and rinsing herself, tilting her head back, the water running over her hair and down her shoulders and between her breasts and down her belly between her legs, and she did this repeatedly.

She reached for a small jar of oil and the razor, glancing at him and frowning, but he just scowled back at her. She poured some of the oil into her hand, rubbing it all over her pussy. She sat on the edge of the tub and sat facing the other way, her leg propped, looking down where he couldn't see, shaving there carefully, his cock aching and throbbing.

She finally got back into the tub and rinsed, turning her back and bending over to get her towel, going straight down as he knew she would, her pussy coming into view, a dark pink naked invitation in this light, flashing between her pale thighs.

"Are you trying to torture me?" he said hoarsely.

She straightened quickly, turning around and holding the towel in front of her and staring at him indignantly like she hadn't just given him a display straight out of a Luterian brothel, her cheeks flushed with the warm water, full lips and dark eyes. His cock jumped.

"There's nowhere else for me to bathe! I have to get clean, Kane. You don't have to look at me," she pointed out, turning side on to him in the firelight that danced over her warm pale skin, giving him her silhouette, bending down a little to wring out her dark hair, starting from the top, her tits peeking out from behind her arm, jiggling again.

He didn't believe for a moment she didn't know what she was doing to him. She began to dry herself. He scoffed. Like it was that easy.

"There's two choices when you're naked near me," he answered, following the towel's path with his eyes. "There's watching you and there's dead."

"Well, I'd rather it wasn't the latter," she said with a sniff, stepping out of the tub and reaching for her wrap.

She pulled it around her, still a little damp, the garment wonderfully short, the material clinging to her nipples, her round butt when she turned around to hang the towel over the side of the tub. She tied the wrap.

"Come here, Corsaire," he invited, holding out his hand.

She shook her head, keeping her distance, going around the bed. She was careful since he'd caught her last time.

"We're not doing sex."

"Why not?" he cried, dropping his hand.

She gaped at him, gesturing.

"You're lying there with bandages all over you. You were cut open. Your head was split! Your ribs were broken! The healers had to pull arrows out of your body!"

He resisted the obvious retort, that there was nothing wrong with his cock, Shai's mercy. Her face was flushed, breathing. He eyed her. He just needed her in range. Persuasion.

"I heal very fast, Corsaire. All my bloodline do. It's a part of our gift. Look, come here, I'll show you how much better my leg is."

"The healers said you should rest."

"I've rested! I've done nothing but rest!"

"For two days!"

"It's been four."

"You were unconscious for two," she argued.

"That's sleeping!"

She pursed her lips and walking to her nightdress.

"No."

He threw his head back onto the pillow. He turned his head and watched her as she drew off the wrap, his eyes roaming over her, the nightdress coming over her head. He made a sharp noise of disappointment.

She took up her comb, running it through her hair repeatedly, her back to him.

"You could give me another bed bath," he suggested slyly.

She turned and frowned at him accusingly.

"Not again, not after what happened last time. Do you want me to read to you?" she said, pitying him but not enough.

"Yes. Sit by me and read to me, Corsaire," he said immediately, patting the place next to him.

She got up and moved to the table, several books there. She sat.

"What would you like me to read?"

"I don't want it," he said, turning his face away, his ribs hurting, his head.

She stared at him.

"I can't believe you're sulking."

"I'm resting," he snarled, closing his eyes.

#

"Hello Brill," Aslin said, smiling at the woman.

Brill looked up from folding bandages, a large pot over the fire with a huge wood stick to stir it, more bandages in it, some hanging on a line to dry, steam in the room. Brill's brown curly hair was drifting around her face where it had come from her braid. Aslin reached and began to fold the clean and dry bandages with her.

"Aslin, hello. Thank you. How is Kane? No fever?"

"None. He's well," Aslin replied casually. "He's a little restless."

"That's to be expected."

Aslin nodded. They folded for awhile, Brill glancing at her curiously.

"Actually, he's awful and relentless," Aslin confessed.

Brill laughed.

"After only five days?"

"Has it only been five?" Aslin said desperately, Brill laughing again.

"He's the worst patient," Brill nodded. "I've had to tie that one down before. Lucky his bloodline heals so fast. Don't mind him."

They folded together, Brill bringing the pile to put away and taking down others that were dry. Aslin began to fold beside her again. Brill glanced at her curiously.

"I appreciate the help you've given the healers, Aslin. Did you want something?"

Aslin looked at the bandages in her hand a little blankly and then set them down, looking at Brill.

"You said that Kane should rest and not move around too much. Could you be more specific?"

Brill's eyebrows went up.

"Has Munse been helping him to walk? He'll heal faster that way, and it will prevent thickening in his blood from lying still for so long."

"Munse did come," Aslin said, taking up another bandage and folding it. "But then he wouldn't anymore, so I begged Stavin to come and he did, but when he left yesterday he told Kane that he wasn't coming back and that, 'If I wanted to be abused I'd go to a Luterian brothel and pay to have it done by someone prettier than you.'"

Brill snorted.

"I'll send Loche. The man doesn't listen to anyone. I give my stubborn patients to him."

"Is there anything he absolutely shouldn't do?" Aslin asked.

"Well, he's shouldn't run or ride or fight, certainly. What does he want to do?"

Aslin looked down, her cheeks warming. Brill looked at her for a moment and then burst into laughter.

"The general rule with his bloodline is that if he wants it that badly, he's well enough, Aslin," the woman said, still laughing, reaching for another bandage.

The healer stopped her in the doorway, Aslin's cheeks entirely flushed.

"Not too enthusiastically, mind you."

"Thank you, Brill."

#

Kane heard the front door to their rooms open and close. He glared at the door to the bedchamber as the Corsaire came through it. He'd woken at dawn and woken her and she'd refused him again, and then woken a second time to find her gone. She'd been away forever, leaving him here alone with his pain.

She closed the door behind her, leaning against it, looking at him. He turned his face away from her, his gaze going to the window.

"Are you hungry?" she asked him, trying to mollify him again. "I've asked Will to bring up some food."

"No," he said shortly, not looking at her.

He pushed the coverlet off himself irritably, too warm in the room, and then a moment later he'd be too cold. His body was still restless, itching and achy and just lying here for days made him so miserable he wanted to toss himself out of the window's height just to end it.

He realized the Corsaire hadn't moved, still leaning against the door looking at him. He looked at her and scowled.

"What are you doing?" he said rudely, ready to fight with her again, anything to distract himself.

He knew he was being entirely unreasonable and unpleasant and he didn't care. She drew a deep breath, letting it out. Her hands went to the ties of her tunic as his frown turned to confusion. She began to undo them.

"Are you going to take another bath?" he sneered.

"No," she said, reaching down and taking off her slippers, the ties to the dress trailing.

Hope was growing in him as she set them beside the door neatly and returned to the dress, slowly unwrapping it, her shoulders revealed first, then her belly and breasts. Now she was just in the pants, straightening the dress and walking to put it neatly over the chair. She removed the pants, going down, stepping out of them, dark hair and pale thighs. Her hands went to her hair, loosening it until it fell all around her in silky waves. Kane sat up a little, his ribs twinging.

"I'm sorry I've been such a trial to you, Aslin," he said quickly in case she remembered his behavior and changed her mind.

She drew a deep breath again, shooting him a look, and went to the basin, walking naked, his eyes all over her, his cock hard. Her hips swayed. She brought the basin to his bedside, her tits above it, bending to set it down. She brought the water and poured it in, getting a cloth. She walked to stand beside him, near to him as she hadn't been for days.

He reached his left hand, touching her belly, wrapping his hand at her hip, squeezing a little. Soft and warm, Shai, she was soft. She let him, taking up the cloth and wetting it, ringing it for excess, then beginning with his other hand, moving to his arm, and then the other. She put it on his chest, washing him there gently and slow.

"It's not too cold?" she said softly. "I can get some more hot water."

"Don't go anywhere, Corsaire," he said hoarsely.

He ran his hand up her waist under her breast, cupping it as she ran the cloth over his neck and back to his chest, making her way down, the water feeling cool, good. She still didn't stop him.

She rinsed the cloth again, ringing it, drawing it lower to his belly, his cock raising the coverlet under that. He found her nipple as she leaned over him, squeezing. He'd wanted them under his fingers, his breathing deep. Her hips squirmed a little, his eyes between her legs to the small crease he could see there, perfect naked lips.

She drew the coverlet back completely, his cock exposed, his leg with the bandage. She rinsed the cloth again and began at his legs, bringing it up to his thighs, washing all around him as his cock jumped and throbbed. His hand went to her other nipple, pinching from under it, tugging. She squirmed more with that, her breath catching. Then she took the cloth and let it drag over his cock. She put her hand over that and began to move it on him, from base to tip and back again.

Kane closed his eyes, his breath releasing, his hips rocking as she continued. She stopped and got on the bed carefully until she was kneeling between his legs, Kane moving them. Her hand cupped his balls, the other holding his cock. She touched the bond and leaned down, taking him into her mouth and then pushing him deep into her throat.

Yes, her cousins had told her how to do this.

Shai, the pleasure. It was immediate, overwhelming. He opened the bond, feeling her arousal to do this, feeling her reacting to his response.