Hal looked over at Summer and nodded. That made sense as to why they were alone and the hut so far out in the wilderness. He felt around for a place to sit, and upon finding a chair he sat down. He started to unlatch his breastplate when a candle was lit and he was asked why he didn’t say anything about the wound on his cheek. He had completely forgotten about during their walk.
“Aye. It had slipped my mind for the pain is nothing compared to the aching of my bones.” He replied and pulled the breastplate off. He set it down next to him and relaxed back in the chair.
Assembling a heap of tinder and firewood, Summer glanced up at him. He did seem chilled and weary. Well, the fire would help with some of that. Another gust of wind rattled around the hut as she snapped the flints together. A couple strikes, a reach with her mind, and slow fire bloomed in the tinder. Coaxing, she spread it among the sticks and leaves until a fine small blaze was going.
Then she unhooked her small wineskin from her belt and rose. “Will you allow me to wash the mark on your face, highness? ‘Twould be a sad thing to see you scarred there.”
Hal didn’t like how everything sort of shook with each strong gust. It made him nervous and feel as though the whole thing could collapse in on them while they slept. He’d keep that thought to himself for it need not be voiced. How bad was the cut? The Prince had no idea what it looked like, how much it bled, and how deep it was. He yanked off his gloves and dropped them next to the breastplate, then brought one hand up to feel for the wound.
When his fingers graced the outer edges he winced and moved his hand to look at it. The injury was still bleeding a little. He sighed and tried to rub the blood off his fingers with the hem of the shirt under his chainmail. “You may and I thank you for doing so.” He finally replied.
“Please try not to touch,” Summer admonished. “I don’t think it’s terribly bad, but … ” Pouring some of the wine into her hand, she carefully tipped it over the mark, trying not to show her nerves. Now that there was candlelight and she could examine him at close range, the purity of his features was astonishing.
Taking refuge in practicality, she held out the wineskin to the Prince. When he took it, she bent and cut a swift strip off the bottom of her skirts, laying it against the cut with care. “If you press, so, I think the bleeding will soon slow. Will you need aught of my help to remove your armour? I think you will rest better without it.”
Half of her hoped he’d say no, and she could turn her back and attend to making them something hot to eat. The other half definitely wanted an opportunity to examine Hal more closely.