She found a low-backed wooden chair and set it by the hearth. “Take off your tunic and sit down. I want to see how bad your cuts are and get them clean.”

He unbelted his tunic, then pulled it, and his undershirt, off draping them over the edge of a table to help them dry. His back was beginning to mottle with bruises and a mass of livid red scratches stood out across the upper part, culminating in a raw, bloody gouge running across his right shoulder blade.

Thank goodness for the afternoons with Sarah. Eleanor bustled back to the towel shelf and collected two more. When she turned back, Cadan was across the other side of the room, rummaging through a cupboard set into the wall.

She said. “And how am I supposed to clean your cuts from over there?”

Cadan kept his back to her. “They’re not hurting and there should be tea and mugs here somewhere.”

The strain in his voice clearly said he was lying about the first bit.

She draped the towels over a convenient gadget and joined him at the cupboard. Forest Maidens be blessed, next to the mugs was a row of the pots and jars Sarah used for her treatments. She wriggled in front of him and picked up two mugs. “Take these back to the fire. I’ll find the tea.”

She checked each of the containers in turn. The tummy tonic wouldn’t be much use, but Sarah’s tea for colds was also there and would be perfect, even if Cadan wasn’t over-fond of it.

She also found a half-used jar of the soothing balm, its scent a little faded from age but it would still help.

Grabbing tea, balm, and a convenient bowl, she turned back to the fire and found Cadan gone again, this time to set the lantern in the window to the right of the front door. “In case anyone comes past.”

Eleanor asked. “Do you think people will be looking for us? If the village was hit by that thing, I doubt we’ve even been missed.”

Cadan replied. “Matthew will.”

It would be nice to have that much faith in someone, she hoped he was right. She pinched tea into the mugs and poured in the now-boiling water. She filled the bowl with water as well and set it away from the fire to cool a little.

Cadan was moving more slowly now, the crease between his brows betraying both his pain and worry. She took his hand and pulled him back to the fire. “Sit, drink tea, let me fuss.”

He sat, grimaced at the scent of the tea, and took a sip. “You want to fuss?”

“Yes, so sit still and indulge me.”

He sat, then sagged, and shivered. She needed to hurry up. Dipping the corner of a towel in the water bowl, she flapped it in the air until it was no longer hot enough to burn, then began working her way across the criss-crossed mess of Cadan’s upper back.

The scratches were peppered with splinters, after she’d snapped three while trying to ease them out with her fingertips, she gave up and simply did her best to not push them in deeper. They needed Sarah and a pair of tweezers, and possibly a needle. The idea of digging into Cadan’s back, making him hurt even more than he did now, had her cringing and all but crying. Healing didn’t seem a good option as a profession for her.

She cleaned her way across, working towards the deeper cut on his far shoulder, working up the courage to clean it. She changed the water in the bowl, dipped a large section of fresh towel into it, checked the temperature, then bent close and began to dab. Cadan all but jumped off the chair, face white, teeth clenched. Eleanor lurched back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this without it hurting. Should I stop?”

Cadan shook his head, then eased his nearer arm around her waist and urged her around to stand in front of him. He wrapped his other arm around her and buried his face in her bodice. “Do what you need to do.”

She pressed a kiss to his hair, his ones on the clifftop had been a comfort, bent over his shoulder and started cleaning again. By the time she made it to the end of the cut, Cadan’s hold was so tight she could barely breathe. Rather than step away, she curled over him, resting her cheek on the top of his head. “It’s done.”

He looked up at her with pain-glazed eyes, and she cupped his face, pressing kisses to his forehead and cheeks. His hold eased, his lips sought hers and clung, coaxing…

The door crashed open.

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