Tender Spot

Each stroke of her finger over the wound was gentle as she applied the healing ointment over the gash. It wasn't deep, not enough to cause any real damage.

Her warm breath brushed over his skin very much like a summer's breeze as she frowned, deftly tending to his wound. A fresh scent, a scent of summer rain invaded his senses and his mind. He cleared his throat and looked up when she raised her head to pick up the bandages off the bed. Their nose brushed against each other when she suddenly turned her head to him and stilled merely an inch from him.

Tempting and so close. Closer than he'd been in a while. Closer than he'd allowed himself to get to her and that was only when she was fast asleep. It stretched for far too long, and the moment passed when she cleared her throat and began dressing his wound. Closing his eyes, he fisted the bed sheet, frustrated. He should've leaned in.

" I'm sorry," She whispered, wrapping the bandage across his chest, and as she leaned in her cheek brushed against his. He felt his body tense at the nearness between them, but he couldn't dredge enough strength to reply and decided to remain silent. The torturous moment stretched, for what seemed an everlasting eternity.

She locked eyes with him, as she pulled back and lightly patted his chest, to check that everything was in place.

Morose, she nibbled on her inner cheek. Her lips pursed several times and inhaled as if she were preparing to say more. Nothing came.

He could hear her heart stumble every now and then, the slight hitch in her breathing, and damned maids in the corridor. Lunch was about to be served. He tore his gaze away from hers and glanced at the door, and as he did the knock came. The maid wasn't alone, she'd brought the seamstress along with her.

Iris beckoned them in as she pushed herself to stand, as the door creaked open and the maid appeared and the seamstress trailed after, curtly bowing and saying her graces.

" I'll leave you to it," He said as he shrugged on the tunic, and made his way towards the door. The seamstress remained behind, just the maid followed after him. She didn't speak a word to him, and the quietness of the castle felt suffocating without her around.

Corvin turned on his heels and ambled back towards the room. If by any chance the seamstress had successfully convinced Iris to try on one of the dresses he had to see it or at least hear about it. Either way, it was a satisfying outcome.

He slowed his steps, crept to the door, and leaned against it, waiting for the seamstress to persuade Iris to try on at least one dress. Time passed as she refused to put on one of the dresses he'd gifted her. Implacable.

The seamstress did her best to persuade her but it was met with refusal after refusal. Closing his eyes. Corvin leaned his head back against the door, while the seamstress didn't relent in making the argument. She was an envoy and she represented her kingdom, and it was unbecoming of her to wear servants attires.

One dress, Iris said, and the seamstress stifled a squeal. The red one, scarlet red. A beautiful rich red. Corvin closed his eyes, picturing her wearing that dress. It wasn't good enough. He had to see it for himself. When the rustle stopped, the seamstress gasped, and he waltzed through the door.

There she was standing before the mirror donning the gown that Maya had made for her. A true splendour, radiant.

The cape hanging off her shoulders, her bare back, his gaze drifted to her reflection in the mirror as she stayed there rooted in the spot.

A deep plunging neckline, hugged her bosom, as the dress flowed to the floor. When she finally turned to face him, he had to remind himself to breathe. Breathe Corvin. you'll turn blue and she will know. Know how stupid you are.

They locked eyes once more, but he couldn't find the right words. What do you even say to a woman like her? Nothing, he told himself.

" I forgot my coat," He said as he trod towards the bed and picked up the coat.

The seamstress mumbled under her breath that he'd also seemed to have forgotten to knock before entering a room, but he didn't bother and made his way out, watching her from the corner of his eyes.

He'd spent the rest of the day, pacing by the western gate of Sometreken trying to sort out through his thoughts and find the right words to say to her when they would meet again in the evening.

Dinner came along, and he finally decided to go back, mostly because he was hungry. Not having the faintest idea of how to compliment her. He'd tried various formulations but nothing sounded right coming off his lips. He'd been so crude to her that anything he'd say would sound like mockery.

In silence, they both sat at the wooden table in the chamber. When he walked in, Iris was curled up on the bed. She didn't say anything and he didn't either. Two moons, he internally sighed and took another bite of his food.

It was increasingly harder each day to be around her, away from her, unsettling feeling that he couldn't quite swallow down, no matter what he did.

He'd usually say something stupid to break the silence, to get her to say anything to him. Even if that was just to call him a troglodyte.

Slipping under the covers, he waited for her to settle down, as she did every night. Sometimes facing him, sometimes turning her back to him. And yet for some reason that night dragged, at an infinitesimal pace. When her breathing slowed, and her heart set into a steady rhythm, he took a deep breath.

" You looked," He paused, still unable to find the right word to describe her beauty. Ethereal, spectacular, breathtakingly stunning, radiant. Nothing sounded right, so he stopped himself there and decided not to say more about it.