Fierceness smolders behind his eyes as his gaze jerks to the warriors riding past. “Malachites attacked our southern villages last night.”
I clasp my hands together and fight the urge to protest him leaving. He could be injured. Or worse…
My stomach clenches at the thought of worse.
“I’ll watch over Praxis,” I say when I can think of nothing else.
“Sol.” Gabriel steps closer, catches the curve of my cheek, and lifts my face to his. “I haven’t properly thanked you.”
“You have.” Instead of the strong, convincing tone I hoped for, my words come out in a whisper.
Lightly, he traces my jaw with his thumb and smiles. “You have my sincerest gratitude.”
With another light trace, he frees me and steps back. I blink, willing away the tingles.
A fierce wind whips at the hem of my surcoat as I turn away, and he rejoins his men. Instead of preparing to avenge Mother so ardently, I should have taken a lover. Any lover. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t desire Gabriel.
Frustration brands me as I step back into the cottage and curse. One touch, and I’m willing to do anything he wants. Preposterous. No man should affect me this way. I scrub at my cheek, willing away the memory, the need.
He hadn’t felt the same. Nothing stirred behind his gaze but gratitude. He’s leaving, and I’m left tending to his friend.
I walk to the spare bedchamber and peek around the door to find Praxis sitting up in bed. “Oh, you’re awake.”
“May I have water?” he asks, his voice raspy from lack of use.
Quelling my frustration with Gabriel, I fetch clean water and bring it to Praxis. He takes the goblet and raises it to his lips, drinking greedily.
“Careful,” I say. “Sip it.”
He obeys, drinking the water slower. After he finishes, he rests against the headboard and exhales.
I take a seat near the bed and eye the lounging man. “You are fortunate to have such dedicated friends. They refused to give up on you.”
The warrior runs his hand through his blond hair. “Family takes care of one another.”
“Luc was so distraught.”
Praxis offers a tired smile. “My cousin.” Admiration hangs over his words as he continues. “He’s devoted to our people. Both are.”
“Gabriel?” I should know the answer by now, but my husband has been so evasive, and the longer I’m around him, the more I realize I don’t understand him.
Lines deepen across Praxis’ forehead as he studies me for several beats. “Gabriel is as devoted as anyone I have ever seen.”
“You admire him too.”
“How could I not?”
Praxis reaches for his chest, to the area now scarred. “Did you heal me?”
“I...”
A wide smile pulls at his mouth. “I have never been healed by magic.” He stares at the scars for several more breaths. “You have my gratitude and my devotion. My sword is yours.”
“I don’t nee—”
“—among the Bloodstone, if someone saves your life, you owe them your loyalty. Until I repay your gift, my sword is yours.”
Knowing it’s useless to argue, I nod.
