Chapter 26

The poppy seeds (read: opiates) had a wonderful effect on my needle phobia; it reduced the pain and turned me into a rag-doll on Tristan's lap. If I hadn't been feeling so awful, I would have been seriously embarrassed about being carried bridal style around the fort and treated like a delicate princess. But the drug did not, however, dull my internal outrage at the horrifying haircut I had undergone.

I must have fallen asleep during the stitching, because when I awakened, I was lying on my side, with a bandaged head, a screaming headache and a dawning sense of horror.

I knew what had happened, I had been conscious of Dagonet cutting all my hair off.

It was my one vanity. I am small and utterly unfeminine in every way… ok, my face isn't hideous, but it's nothing to write home about. My hair was special to me, and because of my own impulsive desire for revenge it had been taken away. Stupid, stupid girl… it had taken years to get it that long.

I screwed my face up and bit the inside of my cheek. Crying wouldn't' help anyone and it wouldn't get my hair back. What a fucking awful day.

I also felt very cold and curled up into a ball, wrapping my arms around my legs and burying my face into my knees. I was thirsty, but I didn't want to move. I didn't want anyone to speak to me… I just wanted to be left al—

"About time you woke up."

Why couldn't he give me even just an hour to come to terms with this? In all the time I'd been here, I hadn't once asked for anything except a few more clothes.

"Go 'way." I croaked into my knee.

"We need to know what happened. Have your wits returned to you now?" his tone was a little too biting.

"They never left," I retorted, raising my head to glare at him with doubtlessly red-rimmed eyes. "And you can sod off."

Tristan snorted and leaned against the wall. He was sitting on the adjacent bed and looked very annoyed. "Believe me; I would rather watch Romans practice their marching than be here. But Arthur wants your account of events before they question the man found in the hallway with you."

That wasn't good.

"I want to see him." I said, slowly sitting up. Then I noticed that I was still wearing my blood-soaked clothes and paused. "After a bath and change of clothes," I amended. I smelt horrible and probably looked worse.

Tristan looked at me with badly concealed surprise. "Absolutely not, you are staying right here. I will arrange for a fresh tunic to be brought to you and an orderly can help you wash—"

"I cut my head; I'm not dying," I said, my own annoyance growing. "I must go see him." I couldn't say exactly why in front of the curious soldiers in the other beds, but surely Tristan could pick up the underlying message that I had to get out of here? That prisoner would tell them that I recovered from a cut throat and that would cause all sorts of problems.

"Why?" Tristan growled, getting to his feet and executing a very impressive loom over me.

I flicked my gaze to the other patients and then very subtly shook my head. Tristan's eyes narrowed in outright suspicion, but I knew I had won. Temporarily, at least.

"Very well… I will tell Arthur that you are still asleep, but you must be ready to speak to him tomorrow." I knew he wouldn't be able to delay it any longer than that and I nodded. "Kahedin or Gawain will take you over to my room and can organize a trip to the baths tonight."

"What?" I squeaked. But the awful glare I got in response brooked no argument. I sighed and gingerly touched my head. I couldn't accurately assess the damage until I got hold of a mirror and the bandages didn't help.

"Sleep." He ordered, and then rested a hand on my cheek for a moment, tilting my head back so he could look into my face for a moment. Then he leaned down to whisper in my ear: "I'm glad you are alright."

If he could call this 'alright', we needed to have a serious talk. I closed my eyes and hummed in agreement. I wasn't the most demonstrative of people, but I'll admit that he had been very attentive during this incident. So I would meekly acquiesce to this small pretense of affection. Then he straightened, squeezed my shoulder and left with a curt nod to the medicus. That was my cue.

Ignoring the stares from patients and orderlies, I lay back down and tried to doze off while listening to the chatter of the infirmary.

As it turned out, Gawain would be busy with assignments from Arthur for the day. So Kahedin had been the one to fetch me back to Tristan's room. I felt him gently rub my arm to wake me up and I rewarded him with a silent, rebuking glare.

He shook his head at the sight and without further warning, scooped my up into his arms.

Being carried around was getting really boring. I actually liked travelling under my own steam. It wasn't my fault I looked really pathetic.

"After the day I've had, this debacle was the last thing I needed." He muttered angrily, striding out of the infirmary without as much as a backward glance at the medical staff. "Caring for a feeble slave like some dog when there is so much to do…"

I resented his little rant, but was too dizzy to really retort. So I just rested my aching head against his collarbone and hoped he wouldn't drop me onto the bed.

"… and then Tristan says that I've got to take you into the baths, after hours, and make sure you don't drown. Then I have to fetch us dinner and protect you from anything. Including the cold. Perhaps I ought to start charging a fee for all these favours."

"Where is he now?" I asked.

"With Arthur; they're discussing what to do with the spy and whether to tell the Prefect." Kahedin snorted. "You might as well tell a basket-weaver about it… the man's only interested in keeping the governor happy."

"I can help…" I murmured. "I think I can convince the spy to talk."

"Oh he'll talk. Tristan wants to be the first to question him. Not that I can blame him… it is rather personal."

"Huh?" I wasn't being very articulate.

Kahedin kicked open the door to the barracks and shot me an incredulous look. "Clearly you missed the part where he was beside himself with worry for you."

"Really? I thought he'd be glad to be rid of me." I said.

Kahedin laughed and squeezed me slightly. "Idiot, despite the fact you two fight constantly, he's actually pretty fond of you. It's just like watching Cador and Dinadan."

"Oh." I felt like a bit of an idiot. "Does that mean I could drive Tristan's life debt even deeper into the negative with this accidental attack?"

"Why would you do that?"

"I want to barter for a few days off." I said. We had reached Tristan's room and Kahedin gently laid me on the bed while he fetched me clean clothes and washing accoutrements. Then we made our way to the baths. I insisted on walking, but found I needed to lean heavily on Kahedin's arm, because I was still horribly dizzy. Once at there, Kahedin bribed the guard to let us in, saying that he had to delay his bath and I was his attendant.

The guard looked curiously at my gore-stained appearance, but didn't argue with the knight and let us enter.

"I'll just wait out here…" Kahedin said when we reached the door to the caldarium. He didn't seem keen on upsetting me by suggesting he would be spying on my ablutions.

"Oh for goodness' sake," I said. "Right now, I really don't care. But please help me get these bandages off my head."

Kahedin looked doubtful, and I threw up my hands. "Don't act all modestly now," I said, my tone half growling, half pleading. "If my self-appointed 'elder brothers' disapprove, then I promise I'll save you from their wrath."

A particularly worrying smile appeared on his face and he obediently followed me to the caldarium. However, when I began to undress, he steadfastly faced the wall and refused to turn around until he heard me enter the water. What a gentleman.

I tugged off the horribly sticky, smelly clothes with mingling relish and disgust, and walked over to the pool of hot water, sighing in pleasure as the heat worked its way into my bones.

~oOo~