(A short chapter...see previous chapter for recap.)
Chapter 18: Love and Soup
By good fortune, we followed the sounds of running water and soon found an abandoned campsite hidden within the crumbling walls of an old tower. We approached cautiously, but the Dalish had left no guards behind. With our new supplies, it did not take us long to build a small fire and make a savory soup, hot tea sweetened with honey, and crumbled biscuits to have with both. At that moment, a grand meal for the Empress of Orlais could not have tasted better.
Silence lingered as an unwelcome guest at our feast, however, and it stole the joy I would have otherwise had. The lingering sadness troubled me; a month in Juca's company, and now I could not bear a few hours at odds with him? Back in Rivain, I had ignored fellow trainees who had crossed me wrongly for years without even a second thought. I thought of Marianna, and how unruffled I was for her opinion of me. Why, then, did Juca's disapproval trouble me so?
It was nearly full dark as I sat near the fire, repairing my sorely abused armor. My shoulder moved stiffly from the arrow wound; the blood had dried sticky and dark down my left side, but I still had full use of my arm. The leather soap I had found in the Dalish supplies was the best I'd ever used. It was restoring armor that was very nearly ruined. Another pang of guilt struck me; to the victor went the spoils.
Suddenly the soup was not sitting so well in my stomach. I sighed.
"Does it hurt?" Juca asked, about my shoulder. He sat down beside me, a bowl of suspicious-smelling liquid in his hands.
"No, not too badly," I answered. My nose wrinkled as vapors from his herbal concoction wafted skyward. Something smelled of sour vegetation. "Are you making new potions?" I asked.
Juca shook his head. "If we find some Elfroot, I can. This will clean your wound and keep infection away."
I nodded and tried to return attention to my repair work. He soaked a bandage in the smelly, almost-hot water and sluiced the liquid over the bloody scab on my shoulder. On the third time, the stuff got into the wound and I hissed. It was as if a hive of bees had suddenly decided to help with the task.
"I'm sorry –" he began.
"No, I'm sorry, Juca," I said. I turned my head to look at him. The pain in my shoulder was nothing compared to the pain building in my heart. The dim light from the banked fire barely lit his face and I could not read his expression. Did he understand what was saying? Did I? How could I be sorry that I'd killed the elves and yet certain they would not have spared us if (no, when) the tables were turned?
Mostly, I was sorry I had failed him, somehow. I was also sorry that his disappointment angered me somewhere deep inside. I did not want to be angry with Juca. Ever.
Without consulting my brain, my hand reached up to caress his cheek.
"Bonita…" he whispered.
His free hand slid up my neck and behind my head. He pulled me closer and kissed me.
The heavy bands that were wound around my heart fell away, and I returned his kiss even as tears slipped down my face. I did not understand my own reaction; why I was trembling and crying? Crying! I never cried. Yet…it was a kiss of promise, of unexpected and unconditional commitment; our differences were not going to be stronger than …
Our love?
I knew why I was crying.
(so hard for Talita to admit to this soft, squishy heart of hers. It isn't going to get an easier...)
(Please review! Good or bad, I need to know - always trying to balance pacing versus clarity of scene and feeling...)
(next chapters are longer, as it is finally time for them to discover WHO they are...)