Chapter 4

The pungent smell of the herb paste hit Eve's nose before Cato even reached her side. He carried the stone mortar over, the green sludge inside looking as appealing as swamp mud. He dipped two fingers into the paste and carefully smeared it onto the deep gash on her elbow.

A sharp sting made Eve hiss through her teeth, but it faded quickly, replaced by a soothing coolness that seeped deep into the torn flesh. The pain actually receded. She hated to admit it, but it worked.

She glared at him as he moved down to her knee. "You think a little bit of mud is going to make me grateful to you?"

Cato ignored her. He picked up a fresh set of wooden splints and began to realign the bones in her lower leg. His hands were large and rough, calloused from years of hard labor, but his touch was precise. He manipulated the broken pieces with a skill that belonged in a master surgeon's clinic, not a menial laborer's shack.

Eve squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away. Every time his fingers pressed against her skin, it felt like a violation. She was a Paladin-she had healed others with a touch of light. Now, she was being patched up like a broken piece of furniture by a stranger.

Once the last splint was tied, Cato stood up and walked over to the small hearth. He picked up a pot and poured a thick, grayish porridge into a bowl. The smell of boiled grains and wild roots filled the tiny room. It wasn't appetizing, but it was warm. Eve's stomach clenched, then let out a loud, traitorous growl.

Her face burned with instant humiliation. She snapped her head back toward him, her eyes blazing. "Take it away! I'm not eating anything you give me!"

Cato walked over and sat on the stool beside the bed. He scooped up a spoonful of the sludge and held it in front of her mouth.

Eve clamped her lips shut and jerked her head to the side, pressing her cheek into the rough pillow.

Cato didn't pull the spoon back. He just held it there, inches from her face. The silence in the room stretched, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

Minutes passed. The smell of the food seemed to grow stronger, taunting her. She hadn't eaten in over a day. The hollow ache in her stomach was turning into a sharp, gnawing pain that made her head spin. She could feel his gaze on her, steady and patient. He wasn't going to give up. He wasn't going to argue. He was just going to wait.

She thought of her vows. A Paladin never yields to the enemy. But a voice in the back of her head whispered that she wasn't a Paladin anymore. She was just a starving girl with broken legs. She had to live. If she died here, in this dirt-floored shack, the truth about what happened in the Frostbound Abyss would die with her. Revenge was a meal she couldn't afford to miss.

Cato shifted slightly, pushing the spoon a fraction of an inch closer. The warmth radiating from the food was a physical force against her cold skin. Her throat convulsed, a desperate, involuntary swallow that she couldn't suppress.

He saw it. She knew he did.

"You..." she started, trying to summon a threat, but her voice was too weak.

Her resolve crumbled. The primal need to survive crushed her pride into dust. Slowly, agonizingly, she turned her head back. She opened her mouth.

Cato slid the spoon inside. The porridge was bland, tasting mostly of wood and water, but the heat spreading down her throat and into her stomach felt like salvation. She swallowed, and he immediately loaded another spoonful.

One bite after another. Eve stared blankly at the ceiling, her body operating on autopilot. She felt detached, hollowed out. A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye, sliding down her temple and into her hair. It wasn't a tear of gratitude. It was a tear of pure, undiluted rage at her own powerlessness. She was the pride of the Azure Blade, now reduced to an infant being spoon-fed by a nameless laborer.

Cato noticed the tear. He paused for a fraction of a second, then resumed feeding her, his movements becoming slower, gentler, as if handling something infinitely fragile.