AUREN
I shouldn’t be startled by his sudden presence, but fear locks my knees and traps the breath in my throat, and for a second, I can’t move.
The commander stops short upon his entry, his black eyes widening when he sees my nakedness.
My momentary shock-stillness snaps, and I yank up the chemise to hold it in front of me. “What do you want?” I demand with a shrill voice, but I know. Of course I know, because it’s what all men want, and why should he be any different just because he’s fae?
The commander’s eyes snap up to my face, irritation showing with a tic in his jaw that makes the muscle jump. Without saying a word, he turns and walks out, the curved spike between his shoulder blades nearly catching on the flap as he goes.
I stand there in shock, gaping at the place he just was, emotions filtering in one after the other like scents in a garden. I’m embarrassed, baffled, angry, and vulnerable. Entirely too vulnerable.
Why did he just walk out?
With trembling fingers, I quickly snap into action, pulling the chemise on over my head. He left, but he could be back.
I hear footsteps outside, and I curse as I yank up the dropped fur and clutch it against my chest. Even with my chemise on, I feel naked, terror coursing through me as I look around for a weapon.
“Coming in.”
I frown at the voice, because I know for certain that it’s not the commander. It’s too high-pitched, too...friendly.
A man I don’t recognize steps inside, instantly straightening up as soon as the flap drops behind him. The first thing I notice about him is how slight he is.
The second thing I notice is that the left side of his face looks deformed, as if it were burned many years ago, healing badly with creases of skin and marks of ruin. He has no eyebrow on that side, his eyelid droops, and the corner of his lips doesn’t quite split correctly.
He’s probably in his forties, with thin brown hair and olive skin, and instead of the leathers that all the soldiers wear, he has on a thick black coat that goes all the way down to his knees, secured by a belt at his waist.
“I am Hojat,” he says, voice thick with a south Orean accent that I haven’t heard in years. “I am here to see you.”
My eyebrows pull together, mind leaping as the man watches me. The commander catches a glimpse of me naked, and now he’s sending in his men to have a peek too?
My face hardens, fingers tightening on my fur, my throat clamping with a readied scream. “Get out.”
Hojat blinks, head rearing back at the vitriol sparking from my tongue. “Pardon? The commander gave me leave to have a look at you.”
Terrified fury makes my body go rigid. “Did he? Well I don’t give you leave to look at me, no matter what the commander said. So you can turn around and leave. Now.”
Hojat blinks. “But I... No. My lady, I am a mender.”
Now it’s my turn to look confused. My eyes sweep over him again, noticing for the first time that he’s carrying a satchel and has red bands stitched on both of his sleeves around his biceps. The customary mark of an Orean army healer.
“Oh,” I say, anger immediately deflating. “I’m sorry. I thought... Never mind. Why did the commander send you?”
He nods at my split lip and what I can only imagine is a very bruised cheek. “I think I can see why, my lady.”
I’m surprised at the formality he’s using. I would’ve expected an army’s healer to be gruffer, especially given which army he serves.
“I’m fine. It’ll heal.”
He doesn’t let my dismissive tone faze him. “All the same, I still need to look you over.”
My lips press together. “Let me guess. Because the commander ordered it.”
One side of his mouth tips up in a smile, the scarred side left behind. “You catch on quick, my lady.”
“It’s mostly just aches and pains, and you can call me Auren.”
He nods and sets his satchel down. “Let’s take a look anyway, lady Auren.”