Destiny Unbonded

Chapter 11

Trust the wisdom of the Gods, and not the whims of men.

- The Canon

[Ophelia]

Cyril put on a smile and brushed away my concerns, but I saw the stiffness of walk, the heaviness of breath, and in unguarded moments, the pain that flashed across his face. Kit's eyes, when they caught mine, expressed the same worry.

"Let us stop here for the night." I said as we came to a grove of trees near the water's edge. The mottled shade, gentle sounds of moving water, and subtle loamy aroma created a tranquil setting.

He grimaced as a misstep jarred his body. "I can keep going. It is still early."

"You are not fooling anyone!" I said, coming up into his face, my resolve set. "You need to rest and let your body mend. We stop here!"

Stunned at my insistence, he turned to his sister. Kit gave him the same narrow-eyed expression. He sighed, raising his hands. "Very well. I may fight the Gods themselves, but I dare not oppose the women I travel with."

"And well you should not! Sit down and relax, and we shall attend to you."

Two furs laid on the grassy ground became a soft bed. Cyril gritted his teeth as I helped him recline, then gave him a canteen of cool water to drink.

He smirked. "I could get used to this."

Smiling, I placed a quick kiss on his forehead. "Enjoy it while you can." At once I regretted the finality of those words and sucked in a quick breath. "I meant, I expect you to repay me in kind."

"Of course," Cyril replied. But the truth was, he had already repaid me many times over.

How many twists of fate had taken us to the brink of discovery together? Even with my worry for Cyril, my entire body quivered with anticipation of mystery to be revealed and destiny made clear. I prayed to whatever deity might listen that the future would include Cyril and I together. But first, he needed to heal.

I took his shirt off to change the blood-soaked bandage. It concerned me that his wound still weeped. With a moistened cloth, I washed him. With each touch of my hand, a warm tingle flowed from my fingertips to my heart. As a Seer and then a Moirai, I made vows of purity and chastity in devoted service to the Gods. Now, freed from that, long suppressed desires rose from deep within, like the stirring of a long dormant volcano.

Cyril reached up to caress my arm, and time stood still while his weary eyes held mine. "Thank you for taking care of me, Ophelia," he whispered.

A warmth filled my cheeks. I ducked my eyes, the intensity of his gaze too much to take. Swirling emotions stole my words, so I just nodded and continued my task.

Kit borrowed her brother's bow, and in short order, came back from the river with several speared fish. Roasted over a fire, they, along with some edible tubers and the last of our flatbread, became a tasty dinner. For someone so young, Kit amazed me with her skills.

Despite an unusually warm and still night, Cyril shivered in a restless sleep. Curled up on his side, faint moans slipped from his lips when the tremors overtook him. I covered him with a blanket and snuggled up behind with my arm draped across his waist. It seemed to soothe him. His shudders lessened, but a despairing voice from the depths of my mind feared it not enough.

A single tear rolled down my cheek, but I wiped it away, pledging not to burden Cyril with my fears. Yet another voice rose from my heart, bypassing reason to escape my lips in a whisper. "I love you."