Kate watched him for a moment more, mesmerized by the stare from those
brilliant eyes - like a cold drake. "Aye," she nodded, still lying quietly
on her back, "How long have I been - wait." There was something vaguely
wrong here. "I - I can understand you..."
Dante nodded, and smiled. "I took the liberty of adding your vocabulary to mine, as well as adding mine to yours. A little Mind Magic. I hope you don't mind, Princess."
Mind? MIND?! He'd just gone and invaded the only thing she had left - without permission - and he wanted to know if she'd MIND? "No," Kate lied, "I don't mind. And stop calling me 'Princess.' My name is Kate."
Dante smiled, "Alright - Kate - and you've been out cold for three days."
Kate nodded meekly. It figured, and no telling what HE'D done in the course of those three days. 'But then again,' Kate speculated, 'Maybe I don't want to know.' To think that the gorgeous man who'd saved her life would do something foul - that was something Kate cared not to fathom. He seemed too goodly for it, anyhow. She'd let him prove her wrong, or right, when the time came.
"You know, you're a lot better than you were when I brought you here, Kate," Dante continued on, oblivious to the workings of Kate's mind, "Except that you've become something of a waif. You haven't eaten anything, you know."
It was true. Kate was nothing more than a skeleton of her former self, and just as pale.
"If you'd like to eat, I have some broth for you. It should still be warm."
At Kate's nod, he smiled and brought her a water-skin, filled to the bursting point with - presumably - warm broth. The delicious scent of rabbit filled her lungs and brought a chorus of noises from her stomach, and she took the thing in both hands. Only when she'd drunk her fill did she hand back the deflated leather bag, wiping her mouth on her arm in a most unlady-like fashion.
Dante lifted his eyebrow.
Kate scowled, "You didn't expect me to be dainty and ask you if you had a kerchief I could use, did you?"
"Well, no..."
"And don't expect me to, either. Do you think a lady would try to kill her own father?"
The only answer she received was a shrug as Dante corked the water-skin and set about building up the fire in the hearth.
"Good answer."
Kate looked around, sighed, and made another attempt to sit up, refusing to be bested by a few simple wounds. "We're not staying here much longer, are we?" she wanted to know, and finally forced her way into a sitting position.
"Maybe two days, that's all." Dante replied, poking red-hot coals with a long stick, "Just until you're well enough to travel."
"What are you talking about?" Kate snarled, immediately offended. "I am perfectly fine, thank you. I can take care of myself." But even as she spoke the words, Kate knew she was lying.
"Look," Dante said, and turned a stern gaze upon her, "Until you can sit up without turning as pale as a Companion we're staying here, got it?"
Kate pounded her fist into the pillow and remained silent.
Dante nodded, and smiled. "I took the liberty of adding your vocabulary to mine, as well as adding mine to yours. A little Mind Magic. I hope you don't mind, Princess."
Mind? MIND?! He'd just gone and invaded the only thing she had left - without permission - and he wanted to know if she'd MIND? "No," Kate lied, "I don't mind. And stop calling me 'Princess.' My name is Kate."
Dante smiled, "Alright - Kate - and you've been out cold for three days."
Kate nodded meekly. It figured, and no telling what HE'D done in the course of those three days. 'But then again,' Kate speculated, 'Maybe I don't want to know.' To think that the gorgeous man who'd saved her life would do something foul - that was something Kate cared not to fathom. He seemed too goodly for it, anyhow. She'd let him prove her wrong, or right, when the time came.
"You know, you're a lot better than you were when I brought you here, Kate," Dante continued on, oblivious to the workings of Kate's mind, "Except that you've become something of a waif. You haven't eaten anything, you know."
It was true. Kate was nothing more than a skeleton of her former self, and just as pale.
"If you'd like to eat, I have some broth for you. It should still be warm."
At Kate's nod, he smiled and brought her a water-skin, filled to the bursting point with - presumably - warm broth. The delicious scent of rabbit filled her lungs and brought a chorus of noises from her stomach, and she took the thing in both hands. Only when she'd drunk her fill did she hand back the deflated leather bag, wiping her mouth on her arm in a most unlady-like fashion.
Dante lifted his eyebrow.
Kate scowled, "You didn't expect me to be dainty and ask you if you had a kerchief I could use, did you?"
"Well, no..."
"And don't expect me to, either. Do you think a lady would try to kill her own father?"
The only answer she received was a shrug as Dante corked the water-skin and set about building up the fire in the hearth.
"Good answer."
Kate looked around, sighed, and made another attempt to sit up, refusing to be bested by a few simple wounds. "We're not staying here much longer, are we?" she wanted to know, and finally forced her way into a sitting position.
"Maybe two days, that's all." Dante replied, poking red-hot coals with a long stick, "Just until you're well enough to travel."
"What are you talking about?" Kate snarled, immediately offended. "I am perfectly fine, thank you. I can take care of myself." But even as she spoke the words, Kate knew she was lying.
"Look," Dante said, and turned a stern gaze upon her, "Until you can sit up without turning as pale as a Companion we're staying here, got it?"
Kate pounded her fist into the pillow and remained silent.