The fever had lasted two days. The wounds on the harem woman's back had turned bright red with infection, and Cayn had been forced to use much of their limited water supply to clean them. Having spent so much of his life in the field, bandaging her wounds with the tattered remains of her clothing was second nature to him. His own tunic was all he had to clothe her, which would have made him grateful for the warmth of his cloak had he not needed it to keep her from freezing to death during the cold desert nights. Still, he was an officer of the Desert Lord's army, and he had braved worse conditions than this.
Cayn found himself silently thanking the raiders on more than one occasion, as the supplies in the shelter, no doubt stolen, were all that had kept them alive. There was food, water, and a few nights supply of firewood. The small cave held the warmth of a fire fairly well, and protected them from the wind. None the less, he had to wonder how many Shadorian soldiers in how many supply lines had died so that this hideout could be so well-stocked. The words of the old sword master who had taught him as a child echoed through his brain,
It is a soldier's place to die so that others may live.
It was the third day when the sandstorm began, and the horse had to join them inside the cave. The beast required such upkeep that, had Cayn been by himself, he would have slaughtered it for it's meat. However, traveling the desert would have been slow, even if the lady had not been wounded. Under present circumstances Cayn dared not give up their mount.
Ah well, at least the sandstorm will take care of what the vultures did not,
Cayn thought of the three corpses he had stacked several hundred yards outside of the cave. Cayn had seen people do terrible things in the war, but he had never been so happy to dispose of human remains.
The wind howled outside the cave and Cayn surmised by the diminishing light from the entrance of their shelter and the rapidly dropping temperature that night was approaching. He threw another log onto smoldering embers and breathed some life back into the fire. Then he sat back, allowing the warmth to penetrate his bare chest, and thought.
The woman's fever had long-since broken, but still she did not wake. Cayn had more than enough time to think. Sometimes, he planned how they would leave, other times his thoughts drifted to the past.
Ariya..
. If Cayn was good at one thing, it was listening. And her name had been in his ears so often lately that he could scarcely get it out. Her refusal of Bael was something of a legend around the kingdom. The harem had always generated rumor and controversy that delighted the Highborn and common people alike. Never before had such a story excited them so, for no woman had ever been able to resist Lord Bael's charms. Not Princesses, barmaids, or anyone in between.
"Brother, this woman is driving me mad." Cayn had listened the day that Bael had propositioned his harem woman to journey across the desert. His lord had been flawlessly calm in his request, but the moment she had left the room, he fell to pieces, "She is beautiful beyond words, fierce as the desert sun, and yet I cannot make her want me."
"She is a woman of your harem, what she wants does not matter." Cayn had answered flatly.
"You don't understand, brother, I cannot take her that way... I almost did once... and how I wanted to... I could have, and yet, now I know that to simply have her would not be enough. I want her to desire me, as I desire her." Bael growled in frustration, "But she cannot stand me, Cayn, and her refusal only makes me want her more. No woman has ever made me feel this way before. So angry, so tormented, and yet so excited."
Cayn had not known what to say, so he he did what he felt best in such situations and said nothing. His brother had continued on lamenting until he fell hoarse and went to find some wine, and most likely some unfortunate servant girl to serve it to him.
The sound of Ariya stirring brought Cayn out of his head. She was whimpering and tossing restlessly. He knelt by her,
is she having a nightmare?
I don't know what to do
...
His mind went to all of the men he had seen die during the war. He thought of the tears that streamed down their faces, mixing with blood and sweat, and he thought of the way each one had gripped his hand, as if trying to cling to this world.
Or perhaps they just needed human contact. A light in the darkness, to guide their way to the next place.
Cayn found her hand, and gave it a light squeeze. To his surprise, she quieted, and fell into a calm and peaceful sleep once more. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and studied her for a moment.
He had never seen Bael so torn up over a pair of breasts before. But then, no woman had ever refused to spread her legs for him.
We seem to desire most that which we cannot have,
he mused
.
If his brother had been the only one talking about her, he would not have been irritated, but soon Cayn's men were speaking of her as well. "I'll bet I could bed her," he heard as he walked through the tents of soldiers, "She would take one look at my dick and beg for me to stick it in her."
"The problem with that is that she would have to be able to find it first. Now, me, on the other hand, I'd show her who is in charge. Can't let a woman have too much freedom, that's his lordship's problem. I'd bend her right over and take what I wanted."
It did not stop with the soldiers. It seemed every man in Border Keep wanted between her thighs, and every woman wanted to be her. Cayn had hoped that he could avoid her by sending Kir in his stead to help her with preparations for their journey, but to no avail.
Still, his duty was foremost in his mind as they set off into the desert. He had promised Lord Bael that he would keep her safe, and that he would do everything he could to ensure the success of their mission. Someone would have to stay on the slod to guard her, and Cayn did not trust anyone else not to be tempted by her.
