Torn Between Two
Chapter 3
Murtagh kept his head hung as he was drug from the metal cage, his ribs burned when he breathed, so he kept his breathing shallow.
"Traitor Murtagh," the girl said, "I want you to be still while I inspect you, understand?"
"Yes," he looked at her. He braced himself for the pain as she rose her hands.
"I'll try to be gentle."
"Thank you," he whispered, clenching his jaw.
Hands, cool as a spring, touched his face, tracing a line from temple to jaw. Pain and pleasure ran all over him as her hands ran over his bruised face, he repressed a shiver, but couldn't stop the sigh that escaped his lips.
Her brown eyes filled with confusion and she dropped her hands from his face quickly. Ashamed, he bit his lip and looked away. He had trained himself to accept pain, to embrace it, at the hands of his torturing father.
He jumped slightly when her hands lightly touched his shoulders and looked into her sympathetic face. Something seemed familiar about the copper hair and those eyes, they felt comforting, but why?
She just reminds you of Eragon, he told himself, that's all.
He sucked in a pained breath when she touched the gash on his collar bone, causing a startled gasp out of her. He bit through his lip and shook his head, telling her to go on. Tears fell from his eyes as her hands slowly ventured to his broken ribs; he let out a strangled cry when she applied even the slightest pressure.
"Murtagh," her voiced was laced with sorrow, "I have to remove your vest in order to see how bad your ribs are." She waited for him to reply.
"Aye, m'lady."
"If you move at all-," she put her hand on his chest to demonstrate. He sucked in a breath and nodded quickly, begging her to remove her hand. Black had dotted his vision when she touched him, warning him that he was about to pass out.
"When you're ready, Red Rider." She removed her hand and waited for him to brace himself. While he pulled himself together he watched her look at both guards and nod, but for what he didn't know.
"Ready when you are," he breathed weakly.
He closed his eyes tight when he felt her slender fingers start working on the top buckle. By the time she was on the third of the seven buckles, he slowly opened his eyes. So far, there hadn't been any extreme pain, only slight discomfort and pressure. However, when she so much as touched the fourth buckle pain exploded. His breath was sucked from him and his legs gave out completely; he felt himself fall, the guards must not have been able to hold the sudden dead weight, and then everything went black.
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Reilyn saw the man's legs give out and the guards released his arms, letting him fall. She reacted without thinking, quickly wrapping her left arm around Murtagh's slimming waist, keeping him from collapsing entirely.
"Dogon! Jierden!" she hissed as rage filled her. How could they just let him fall like that?! she thought angrily.
The guards didn't move, they merely stared at her with gaping mouths. They were shocked that she would treat the teen, who had tried to kill Eragon and herself, with such care.
"Dammit!" she breathes as she felt the raven haired boy slip. Knowing she could not hold him up by herself, she tightened her arm around him and slowly lowered him to the ground. She lay him back, being as gentle on his wounded body as she could, and turned to glare at the still unmoving guards.
Why Lady Nasuada had ever put Dogon on guard duty was beyond her.
"Why are you so kind to this. . . man?" Dogon demanded.
"He's betrayed us before and has tried to kill both you and Eragon numerous times!" Jierden put in.
The question caught her off guard, she had wondered the very same thing ever since Murtagh was captured. There was something so hauntingly familiar about the pale skin, raven hair, and those hazel eyes. . . . She swore she knew them once, in her childhood. She shook her head violently, trying to clear it. Her childhood was something to be forgotten.
"Well?!" both men demanded, pulling her focus back.
"Someone has to do it," she told them coldly.
She returned to what she needed to do, taking advantage of Murtagh's blessed unconsciousness to remove the vest. When she had finished with the last buckle and was parting the leather material, the teen groaned and stirred, coming back to reality.
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"Don't move!" a voice commanded through the fog.
"Wha-," he began. He noted two things immediately: he was on the ground and his chest felt different-less restricted. Then he noticed something entirely new: a sharp blade to his neck.
"I said don't move," the teen girl said. She was kneeling beside him , holding her dagger to his flesh.
"I didn't," he whispered, wincing as a boot hit his thigh.
"Don't speak, Traitor!" Dogon growled.
"Dogon!" the girl roared, removing her blade from Murtagh's neck to aim it at the man.
Why is she so caring towards me? he wondered, silently thankful that someone was.
"I want both of you out of my sight!" she ordered, gesturing with the silver dagger.
"But," the other man protested, "the prisoner."
"I am more than capable of handling him," her brown eyes darkened, looking black. "Now, go!"
"As you wish, Miss Reilyn," both men bowed and then skittered off.
Reilyn-,he thought. Even her name is familiar.
"Reilyn?" he whispered.
She cast a look at him when he spoke her name, placing her dagger back in her boot.
"It's Miss Reilyn to you, Traitor."
"Miss Reilyn," he corrected, smiling faintly. Her name felt good coming off his tongue, he almost said it again just for the feel.
"Now," she looked into his eyes, "will you do as I say? Can I trust you to behave?"
"Yes, Miss Reilyn," he shivered when the words passed his lips.
"Good," she cast a glance at his bare chest, "you need to be still, I'm afraid no matter how gentle I try to be this will hurt."
"What will hurt?" he asked, puzzled. He felt fear rise in him, making his heart race and his breath quicken. He winced as pain ripped through his chest and lungs.
"I have to see," sorrow-filled brown eyes locked with his, "how badly broken your ribs are."
"I understand," he panted, wincing again. "Don't worry about the pain you'll cause, I assure you I've suffered worse."
"Tell me if it gets unbearable and I'll stop," she whispered. Murtagh thought he saw a tear escape and slide down her face. He wanted to wipe it away. Her total sincerity in her sorrow made him nervous, yet pleased.
She's so like Eragon. The thought of the gentle brunette made his heart hurt with longing.
"Just do it," he said. He shut his eyes and bit his lip, forcing his body to be still.