Moonflower

Chapter 17: The Immovable Mountain

He leaned against her. Tall, strong man that he was, he was now trusting a slip of a girl to guide him to safety. He inhaled sharply as the wound in his head released another pang. And he breathed in her scent. Like fresh apples.

How did she smell like the apple trees in his grandfather's orchard? The ones he'd climbed as a boy. Suddenly, the sun was golden on his face as he clung to a branch and reached for a bright crimson apple. He bit into it, and the fresh crispness of that sweet fruit filled his senses with goodness. He sighed. He missed his grandfather's orchards. And his apples.

"What's your name?" Taehyung asked as he winced from the pain in his head.

She noticed. "Hang in there. I'll mix you a poultice. Once I've cleaned it, it will feel better."

"You mean after you set it on fire?" His lips twisted wryly.

She sighed. "I do have to disinfect it. I'm so sorry. It will hurt. But the pain will fade, and the medicine will make it feel better."

Another wave of dizziness hit him. He stopped walking. He felt like he was going to barf. His fingers dug into her arm. He felt her gasp from their bite. He experienced immediate remorse and loosened his hold on her.

"So sor—"

He lurched to the left and puked into a bush. He stood, shoulders heaving, as he gasped for air.

What on earth was going on? Who had hit him? Why?

Suddenly alarmed, he spun around. "Where is the king? Where is Moonflower?"

She stared, uncomprehending, up at the beautiful man. Why was he babbling about the king? And moonflowers? Clearly, his wits had been addled when the blow had landed on his head.

"The king is in bed, of course. And the moonflowers look especially pretty tonight. If you're done being sick, let's get your scalp taken care of." She reached out to him.

Once again, he leaned his considerable frame up against her tiny one. They plodded onward. A few moments later, she pushed the door to her bedroom open and led him inside.

"Let's put you on my bed."

But he resisted the pull of her arm. She glanced up at him quizzically.

"I don't want to get blood all over your bed."

In the dim light of the one burning candle, she could now see that his face was covered partially by blood too.

"All right. Let me wipe your face off, then you can remove your shirt. Then, you can sit on my bed."

A few moments later, he lifted his arms as she slowly and carefully peeled his shirt off of him. She was standing right in front of him, gazing at that beautiful torso. She swallowed. He smelled good too. If she ignored the metallic scent of his blood. Something deeper, earthy, clung to him. Like she wanted to.

She immediately banished that absurd thought. She didn't even know this man! She most certainly did not wish to cling to him. Even if he was gorgeous. And strong. And noble.

He must be noble. He was the king's guard. And he was hurt. She needed to attend to his head.

He was also weaving again.

"Come. You must lie down before you fall down."

She led him to her bed and lay a towel down before encouraging him to lie on his stomach. She needed to be able to reach the wound on the back of his head. He lay down, exposing his strong back to her. She looked away. Those crazy thoughts were spinning through her mind again.