Her nerves only got worse the more helpful the Commander beca, and all Irene could bla was herself and her lack of experience around n she wasn’t familiar with.
First, a clean cloth dragged across her skin so he could get a better understanding of the wound he was working with. She had to flex her entire body so that she wouldn’t shiver at such gentle touch.
He then put ointnt on her and she had to cast her eyes away at his ward hand pushing sothing across her body.
When he ceased in his actions for a while, she faced forward and raised her eyebrows. He seed to be debating sothing and she felt imdiately insecure.
"Can I untie this for a mont?" he asked as he placed his finger on the strap of the half chemise covering the upper half of her body.
She ekly nodded, having to glance away yet again, but her hand stayed on the neckline of the chemise so that there was no possibility of it falling while Henry did what he needed to help her.
The Commander pressed on with no consideration of how his gentleness might make her feel. She had to remind herself that this was how he treated all of his knights. It could have been Felix in this position and he still would have treated him all the sa.
Irene went to great lengths to distract herself from the situation, as he was finally able to wrap her shoulder without the obstacle of her strap in the way.
But there was sothing he seed to take notice of, and he voiced his curiosity, causing her to pull the fur he had lent her over her body more.
"If you don’t mind, what is this?" he wondered before she had a chance to fully cover.
She adjusted the fur and glanced down at where the man had indicated.
Her tattoo. She should have rembered that this wasn’t sothing a southerner would have knowledge of. Only Sunstoian people had markings tattooed into their skin. While most Chemoian people knew of the markings, they didn’t specifically know what they were for.
In her case, it worked in her favor because no one in the order of knights knew for a long ti that it ant she was coming into womanhood.
She would never know that it was the very thing that tipped Leif off to who she really was.
"I forget that you’re from the south," Irene realized. "You probably have never seen this before."
Her eyes didn’t leave the three interlocking triangles on her shoulder, but what surprised her the most was seeing the Commander reach out and touch her tattoo so gently as if she could be wounded by his touch.
His gentleness was eating her alive. Even though she knew he wasn’t underestimating her because he had complinted her strength before, she was beginning to wish that there was purpose behind his touch. That his touches were because he wanted to touch her and not because she was simply being a burden as she had done all day.
"You’re right, I’ve never seen anything like it," the Commander admitted. "Does it an sothing?"
Her eyes lifted and she t his eyes. They had already talked about Sunsto once, yet she found herself unable to hold back. This entire situation made her so vulnerable, she felt more forthcoming than before.
"It’s Sunstoian tradition to tattoo their people when they reach adolescence," she explained. "This symbol is for won. We get it after our first monthly bleeding. That’s when we’re said to be most vulnerable to spirits. It’s ant to protect our soul."
As the words left her lips, she imdiately regretted them. Why would she tell a man about sothing he could never understand? He would probably be disgusted. She had heard plenty of jokes about why won weren’t suited for the battlefield...
However, the downward spiral she was having all on her own was put to a halt at his next words that were entirely devoid of judgnt or disgust, rely curiosity.
"Did it hurt?" he asked as he continued with the final knots of her bandage and hiding the tattoo he had admired before. "You must have been young."
"A lot," she admitted, completely relieved. "The sea north of us is where my ancestors sailed ships. They were known for their brutality and conquests. However, in the last couple of centuries, they disbanded and moved elsewhere. Now there are few people with markings like this. I’m honored to carry around a piece of my dad’s family history like this."
As she spoke, he tied the strap of her chemise back in place and secured another wrap outside of her clothing to secure it all. There was nothing wrong with being cautious.
"I had no idea there were people like that," the Commander admitted. "Though I’m sure my understanding of the world is smaller than the average person. I never received education of any kind."
His admittance caused Irene to balk. It made her forget entirely that she was being so insecure before.
Her self assigned responsibility to ensure that he remained happy overtook all other thoughts.
"But i’ve seen your penmanship," Irene argued. "It’s quite good."
"My mother taught to read and write," the Commander admitted. "I’m of a small few peasants who know how. She only did it so I could read the stories she wrote."
Irene had to hold herself back. She was so much more curious than she ought to be.
"No one would ever guess that," she admitted lightly.
It seed their conversation was over as he began cleaning up the items that were required to fix up Irene so that her wound was taken care of until they could return to the Duke’s Tower.
"I’m all finished," the Commander announced.
"I ought to help you get cleaned up," she insisted.
"If you stand up and undo all the work I just put into securing a bandage around your shoulder, I’m going to be upset," the Commander teased.
Irene relented with a sigh. She would be good and stay put if that’s really what he wanted her to do. She felt lazy considering he was the one who had been doing everything all day. He must have been exhausted. He was supposed to be asleep at that mont.
However, the Commander’s tidying up let him to Irene’s discarded tunic and he held it up. It was torn and there was blood all over it.
"I have an extra tunic," the Commander suggested. "It’s probably better than wearing this one for now. I can have a maid deal with this once we return."
"It isn’t so bad," Irene insisted. "I’ll be wearing the rest of my coats and armor. I can handle that much."
"The blood is wet and there are holes," the Commander persisted. "I will not stand idly by and allow you to risk cold because I am impolite enough to look past your comfort."
Irene huffed at that.
"The trail isn’t ant to be comfortable, Commander," she responded.
"Then do it for ," he continued. "Take my tunic, otherwise I’m going to agonize over how uncomfortable you are after trying to save . Perhaps the guilt may eat alive."
Irene rolled her eyes at him, and at the slumping of her shoulders, she knew she had lost that argunt. Before she could object further, a navy blue tunic was slipped over her head, and she had no choice but to push her arms through it.
It was so large that she was practically swimming in it when she shakily got onto her feet. Her head raised and she was t with the amused gaze of her Commander.
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