Bedelth the Orange (Dragonwall Series #5)

Chapter 36 - Preparing the Ward

Kastali Dun

Saffra struggled to breathe, struggled to keep pace with Bedelth's long strides as he all but dragged her down the Hall of Kings. She was hardly aware of the door opening, closing behind them, her body being pushed against it, his lips capturing hers. She groaned, the touch of him breaking the spell of shock surrounding her, pulling her from the fear, replacing it with frenzied desire.

For a brief minute, the roaring panic abated. There was only the bulk of a male before her, pressed against her, his lips roving over hers. She gasped against his mouth, letting her tongue explore his. Her hands grabbed at him, fisting his tunic, the leather of his baldric. She ignored the press of daggers against her chest, where his met hers.

"Time," he breathed, separating their lips briefly. "I wish we had more time."

She swallowed against the thickness building in her throat. Time...

A flash of guilt had her eyes darting anywhere but his face. They would have had more of it, had she not fought this thing between them.

His expression turned from hungry to soft, to understanding. "Saffra, my gem, my star, do not go there." He ran his fingers over her cheekbones, soothing her. She exhaled. "You needed time to process, to come to terms with what we are. There is nothing we can do to change the past."

These minutes, she realized, were the final minutes they might get together before all chaos ensued. This was their goodbye...for now. "We will have our time," she told him, summoning courage. "When this is all over, I will give you that time I refused to give you before."

Bedelth's expression crumbled into pure yearning. His lips were on hers again, his breaths jagged. He smelled like smoke and earth. The scent reminded her of her childhood, of late nights watching the sun set before an outdoor bonfire.

She tried to memorize this moment, cement it into her mind. The feel of him pressed against her, heat passing between them. The ache building in her abdomen. The taste of his lips. The press of his hands against her face, gentle, cradling her—hands strong enough to break bones, but never hers.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "I...I must go—Reyr is summoning me."

"I know," she breathed. "I know."

She too needed to get where she was expected, down in the lowest floors of the keep, where she'd be working with Desaree and Jocelyn until this was all over. They shared a final kiss, a thing wrapped in hunger, desperation, and so many unspoken promises. Then they broke apart and went their separate ways.

***

Saffra worked until her feet ached, then she worked some more. The entry and dining hall had been set up as an infirmary in anticipation of what was to come. The city's healers had been assembled, and together, with Desaree, Jocelyn, and Claire's Spriten handmaidens, they'd set up designated areas to reduce the chaos that would ensue. Piles of fresh linens, bandages, and healers supplies sat in heaps in several locations. Massive amounts of water and bath salts for cleaning wounds had been stored in barrels. Rows and rows of pallets sat empty.

"Surely we would never..." Desaree's voice faded, gazing out over the sea of beds. There were two hundred between both halls.

Saffra reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing. "I hope it won't come to that."

"My lady," a male servant appeared. Besides the healers, who helped oversee the set up, the entire keep's serving staff had been enlisted. "An additional reserve of pallets was located."

"Thank the gods," Saffra breathed.

"We have them stacked neatly in the corridor just outside the throne room, as you said."