"You're hurt," he said softly. She turned slowly, giving him a curious look.
"No, I'm fine," she answered, an eyebrow still raised.
"There," he said, leaning across the cart. He touched a spot on her chest, trying to ignore how aware of her body he was feeling. She recoiled slightly at the touch.
"Ah! Oh, that? That's nothing. Little scratch, it'll be gone in a couple of days." She shrugged.
"I should have protected you," he said softly. He set his jaw and looked out the back of the wagon. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
For a long time neither of them spoke, just watching the road pulling away behind them slowly.
"Gunnar, it's only a scratch," she finally said, catching him looking again.
"All my life, I've been a quick healer. Didn't realize how quick until I was eighteen years old. You can't hurt me, nobody can, not unless I'm chewing that stuff you gave me."
She looked at him a moment, then looked out the back, not sure how to respond. So he continued.
"If I could trade being stabbed through the gut to save it for someone else, sure it'll hurt, but…"
He trailed off.
The silence seemed to stretch out again, filling the air, neither of them really sure what to say. Both of them trapped in their own heads.
He finished his thought minutes later, long enough that Deirdre had to take a moment to realize what he was saying.
"But for you, I'd say it's a little different."
"Why is that," she asked, already knowing the answer. "Because I can cure you?"
"No," he said, surprised to hear the words coming out of his own mouth. "Not because of that."
"Or is it because I'm a woman?"
He smiled faintly. "If you knew some of the women from the places that I'm from, you might not think that way."
She frowned, clearly annoyed at the answer, but Gunnar wasn't about to let that stop him.
"So what, then?"
"Because you're important. The most important woman in the country."
"Because I'm a witch, then. There are plenty of us, from what I've heard. Loners, but there are plenty who are better than I am, smarter and better trained. More experienced."
"Because you're you," he answered. The words hung heavy in the air, and it shut Deirdre right up. No response to that.
The thought brought a smile to his face, and he turned back to the road, watching the weather change. It might be that the clouds would be cleared by the time they stopped to make camp for the night.
Deirdre said something softly, and Gunnar didn't catch it. She repeated herself, louder. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He thought about it for a moment before answering. "I care about what happens to you. More than others."
"Do you mean 'I love you?' " He wasn't sure what he heard in her voice, but Gunnar had already started to say it. There was no excuse for backing out now.
He kept looking out the back of the wagon. Did everything have to be spelled out? He took a deep breath. No, he couldn't keep lying, and he couldn't keep making excuses for himself.
"What if I did?"
Thirteen