You were foolish
1108 Words
Naamah's POV
"My lady!"
Shira's face appeared above me, her eyes red and swollen like she'd been crying. She grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight.
"You're awake! Thank the gods, you're awake!"
"Shira?" My voice came barely a whisper. My throat felt like sand. "Where am I? What happened?"
"Water first." She lifted a cup to my lips with shaking hands. "Drink slowly."
I looked around the room properly now. It was large, much larger than my chambers.
"Shira, where am I?"
She bit her lip. "You're in the king's chambers, my lady."
"What?" I tried to sit up again, ignoring the pain. "Why am I in his room? How did I get here?"
"Please, lie down. You're still wounded"
Shira gently pushed me back against the pillows.
"I'll tell you everything, but you must rest."
"Tell me now."
She took a deep breath. "Do you remember the hunt? The bandits?"
The memories starting coming back in flashes.
"I remember," I whispered. "There was an arrow. He didn't see it coming."
"You stepped in front of it," Shira said quietly. "You saved his life."
My hand went to my shoulder, feeling the thick bandages beneath my nightgown. A nightgown I didn't remember putting on.
"The arrow hit you instead," Shira continued. "You fell. The king, he..." She paused, her voice breaking. "I've never seen anything like it, my lady. He went mad. Absolutely mad."
"What do you mean?"
"He killed them all. Every single bandit. Prince Marduk arrived with soldiers, but by then the king had already cut down most of them " Shira's hands twisted in her lap.
"One escaped and the king went after him. Alone. He wouldn't let anyone stop him."
I stared at her. "Why would he do that?"
"Because of you, my lady. Because they hurt you."
I didn't know what to do with that information.
"Prince Marduk brought you back to the palace," Shira went on. "The king returned an hour later, covered in blood. He came straight here, to your side. He wouldn't let them take you to your chambers. He insisted you be treated in his room where he could watch over you."
"He what?"
"He's been here for two days, my lady. Two days and nights. He barely ate. Didn't sleep. Just sat in that chair." She pointed to a large chair pulled close to the bed. "Holding your hand. Watching you breathe."
I looked at the chair. A blanket lay crumpled.
"That's not possible," I said weakly. "He's the king. He has duties. A kingdom to run."
"He refused to leave." Shira's eyes filled with tears again.
"You had a fever the first night. A bad one. You were burning up, talking in your sleep. The king threatened the physician. Said if you died, he'd kill him with his bare hands."
My throat felt tight. "Where is he now?"
"He left just before dawn." She squeezed my hand. "But he'll be back. He made me promise to send for him the moment you woke."
Before I could respond, the door opened.
Ashur walked in.
He wore a simple tunic, no crown, no gold. He looked tired. Deep shadows under his eyes with lines around his mouth.
His eyes found me immediately.
For a moment, he just stood there in the doorway, staring.
"You're awake," he said quietly.
"Yes."
He walked to the bed slowly, each step measured. Shira stood and bowed.
"Leave us," Ashur said without looking at her.
Shira glanced at me. I nodded slightly. She left quickly, closing the door behind her.
The room suddenly felt very small. Very quiet.
Ashur stood beside the bed, looking down at me. "How do you feel?"
"It hurts," I admitted.
"Let me see."
Before I could protest, he sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. He reached for the neck of my nightgown.
"What are you doing?" I tried to pull back, but the movement sent pain shooting through my shoulder.
"Checking your wound." His voice was calm, matter of fact. "Be still."
His fingers were gentle as he pulled the fabric aside, revealing the bandages on my shoulder. He studied them carefully, his face close to mine. I could smell him. Cedar and soap and something warm underneath.
"No fresh blood," he said quietly. "That's good."
His hand rested on my collarbone, just above the bandages. His skin was warm against mine. I became very aware of how little I was wearing. How close he was. How his eyes weren't on the wound anymore but on my face.
"Why did you do it?" he asked suddenly.
"Do what?"
"Step in front of that arrow." His jaw tightened. "You could have died, Naamah."
"So could you."
"I'm a soldier. I've faced death a hundred times. You're.." He stopped, seeming to search for words. "You had no reason to save me."
"I couldn't just watch you die."
"Why not?" His eyes locked with mine, intense and searching. "You hate me. You've made that very clear."
I didn't have an answer. Not one that made sense.
"I don't know," I whispered.
He stared at me for a long moment. Then his hand moved from my collarbone to my cheek, his thumb brushing just below my eye. The touch was so gentle it made my chest ache.
"You were foolish," he said roughly. "Incredibly foolish."
"I know."
"If you ever do something like that again" His voice caught. He pulled his hand back and stood abruptly. "You're my responsibility, My captive, You need to stay alive and healthy. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
He turned toward the door, running a hand through his damp hair. His shoulders were tense.
"Thank you," he said quietly, not looking at me. "For what you did."
"You're welcome."
He reached for the door handle, then paused. His head dropped forward, his hand braced against the doorframe. He let out a long, shaky breath. A sigh that sounded like relief. Like he'd been holding his breath for days.
Then he opened the door and left.
I lay there in his bed, in his room, my hand pressed to the spot on my cheek where he'd touched me.
Nothing made sense anymore.
I'd saved the life of the man who'd destroyed my city. The man who'd killed my people. The man who held me captive.
What did that mean?
What did any of this mean?
Outside the window, I could hear the city waking up. Voices and footsteps and the distant ring of bells.
But inside this room, everything had changed.
And I didn't know if that terrified me or gave me hope.
- Writer
