To Live Again

6. Crownless

'And may you need never to banish misfortuneMay you find kindness in all that you meet'

Sleepsong - Secret Garden

AUTHOR NOTE: Super quick. SO sorry for the delay but this chapter ended up being soooo big, and I could have cut it up, but I just liked the flow. Forgive me? More words to read though, right? And ... more Naisi.

Huge thank you to everyone  reading and commenting. You guys are awesome. You've no idea how thrilling it is to get this reception for an original work. I am so grateful.

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"Does your land not have laces?"

I glare over my shoulder at Ardan, his lips pursing in a pitiful attempt at disguising his glee. These clothes are ... complicated. Layers and ties and buckles. I'm presently locked in a battle of wills with a suede jacket that laces at the sides, and those laces are besting me.

"Yes," I snap and let out loud curse when I lose the loop of thin fabric. "But, this is excessive. Don't you people have dresses, or something? A pullover at least?"

"Dresses in the wilds? Yes, that sounds entirely appropriate." He sniggers and stretches out of his pose which has been languishing in utter boredom up against the centre pole. Apparently I take too long to dress, and after a gruelling few minutes he entered the tent—on my permission—concerned I'd been swallowed alive by the fabric. "May I assist?"

"No." I snort and shrink back a little from his approach. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"Clara, I am the captain of our armies and a decorated warrior, not some ill-reared youth who can't control himself. I believe I've enough wit to tie up a jerkin. You'd not be the first lady I've helped."

Cocky Fae-ish man. Fair point. These aren't pretty clothes. These are fighting garb, sturdy and probably the only thing spare around this camp.

"It's at a weird angle." I moan. "And, my side still hurts."

"Here," he says with only the slightest ghost of an amused smirk. I relent and let him fix my clothing with little more than a hesitant sidelong glance as permission. "It's too small," he tells me when his fingers dig into the botched lace-up and gives it some leverage. "The females in our clans would not be as ... proportioned."

"Are you calling me fat?" I twist away, mouth agape.

"Not fat." He raises an eyebrow. "Well-proportioned ... or, is it endowed?"

Something like a strangled gasp leaves me and I snap my mouth shut. Heat prickles along my neck and chest. "Good god, I assumed you folk to be blindly arrogant, but the rudeness is staggering."

"Sounded more like a compliment in my head." He shrugs, utterly unconcerned, and finishes tying up the suede jacket. "I have a friend of a friend that works in the palaces, she can furnish you with better fitting clothes, but for the meantime you'll have to make do."

"I don't know what is more shocking. That you have a friend, or that you think making statements about a lady's bust size is appropriate?" I take a full step back and cross my arms about my chest to prove a valid point. I do notice the smug lowering of his eyes. I clear my throat and that gaze snaps straight back up. "Hilarious. Honestly, I can barely contain my laughter."

He actually laughs, leans forward and scoops up a dark brown cape from the bed and throws it at me. "She's walking, and talking back, gods above it's a miracle. They should hire me as a healer. I've missed my calling."