Don’t Teach an Eagle to Fly – 4. chapter

First time here? Start with Chapter 1.

Steam rose from the copper tub and settled on the stone walls of the bathing chamber. The air was heavy and damp, saturated with the scent of soap, pine, and human sweat. Kaelan sat submerged up to his neck in hot water, his head resting against the rim, eyes closed, mind alert. A maid knelt beside him on the tiles in silence, moving a sponge gently across his chest. Every motion was precise, slow, practiced.

Kaelan didn’t move. Only when he heard movement beyond the door did his attention sharpen. After a moment, the door opened slightly. A male voice came from behind it, muted but clear.

“Nirella.”

Kaelan didn’t turn his head. He only closed his eyes more tightly.

“Daughter of Tharan of Vargorn.”

Silence. The water rippled faintly as the maid’s hand stopped midway through the motion.

“I’ve heard interesting things from merchants from the south,” the voice continued. “Tharan had two heirs. The elder son was killed last winter at the pass. And the daughter. Nirella.”

Kaelan drew a slow breath and opened his eyes. The door remained ajar, but the figure behind it did not appear.

“They say she wore her brother’s colors for a long time,” the voice went on dryly. “Even his armor. His sword. The royal one. Some thought it was him.”

The maid resumed washing. Kaelan followed the chain of logic and everything fell into place. He rose suddenly, water spilling onto the floor. The maid recoiled. Without a word, he took the cloak hanging nearby.

For a moment he stood still. His gaze rested on the stonework and the tension in his features softened.

“Prepare a warm bath in the prisoner’s room,” he said coldly. “And make sure the water is hot when it’s poured.”

The maid nodded.

Kaelan glanced once more around the chamber and stepped out. On his way, he stopped at the first guard he came to.

“Bring some food to the same room.”

The guard nodded and left without a word.

Kaelan dressed and lingered for several minutes. He waited until the bustle of the servants had died down and the scent of steam began to drift toward the stairwell. Only then did he go to the captive.

He found her exactly where he had left her. Lying on the bed, wrists bound, her entire body still encased in armor. Metal gleamed in the dim light. Her helmet rested against the wall. The rest of the gear clung tightly to her form. Streaks of sweat and dust marked the skin beneath the collar. Battlefield grime had dried in the folds of the armor. Helpless.

“Out,” Kaelan said quietly but firmly. “All of you.”

No one thought to argue. Within seconds, only the two of them remained in the room. Kaelan stepped closer to the bed and slowly looked her over. Then without a word, he reached for the helmet. He leaned in and removed it from her head. She didn’t protest. She let him do it. Her hair, pressed beneath the padding, clung to her forehead. Her skin was sweaty, dirty, pale.

The sight stopped him.

Women shouldn’t look like this. War was for men, not for them. They should be at home. Safe. Protected. Cherished. Not like this. He shook his head.

“I don’t understand how anyone allowed you to march into battle.”

“I don’t ask anyone!” she said proudly.

The first words she had spoken to him since that single word on the battlefield. He didn’t agree, but he nodded slowly.

He set the helmet down on the bed beside her. He stood for a moment, then calmly began loosening the buckles of her shoulder plate. Gradually he removed the upper armor, one metal piece after another. She let him. Without movement. Without a word.

Only when her chest was exposed did he stop. For an instant, surprise flickered across his face. She was slight. Too slight. Beneath the armor was a fragile, almost girlish body that seemed wholly incapable of bearing that weight of steel. How had she fought in it at all? How had she survived? And how many battles like this had she already been through? Her chest barely rose. Her arms remained stretched and unmoving, wrists bound behind her by a chain to the bedframe.

Kaelan moved to her feet. He lifted the fabric and bound her slender bare ankles with rope. Then he straightened again and drew the short knife he carried at his belt. She didn’t react. She only lowered her eyelids slightly, as if she no longer had the strength even for suspicion.