.
.
amara stayed with Callan until evening. Occasionally, she worried that her father might already be back from court and noticed that she was not in her room. But she didn’t let it bother her much. How could she, when she got the opportunity to spend a very good time with Callan? They’d talked about how he’s been these past few months. She told him about her courting week. How good Salem is. All her experiences. She excluded the few moments she had with the king, not wanting to spoil their moment together.
In turn, he told her that he hadn’t regained his memories, but he did tell her that his wounds were healing properly.
Kamara knew that Callan was unhappy about his lost memory. It makes him agitated, not knowing many things; his past, where he’s from, his family.
Being unhappy about it also made Kamara very unhappy about his memory loss, mainly because he was unhappy. Deep down in her heart, she admits that she’s a little relieved about it.
What if his past takes him far away from her? The thought is quite dreadful.
What if he already has a family somewhere far away who misses him? A wife? A child?
“Why are you sad, my lady? Did I do something wrong?” His brows were knitted in worry as he asked.
Kamara was drawn back to reality. She shook her head. “No, no, of course not. I was just thinking. It’s nothing.”
He hesitated. It worried him that he might have done something to make her sad.
She’d spent hours in this small house of his, and deep within himself, he realized how much he enjoyed her presence. It gave life to his home...to him.
“Truly, I’m fine.” she smiled in reassurance, looking out the window. “Although, I’ll have to get going soon. It’s almost sundown; my father will soon be finishing with court.”
Callan got up when she did. “Alright, my lady. Although, I doubt if he will search for you immediately after he gets out of court. It tends to drain them and leave them tired.”
Kamara was on her way to the door then stopped immediately and turned to him with surprise on her face. “That’s true. But how do you know what the court is like?”
It dawned on Callan what he said. He stopped, too, his brows knitted in a frown. How did he know that? “I-I have no idea,” he responded truthfully. He cracked his brain, trying to think of anything else, but his head remained blank.
Peasants weren’t supposed to know that. Kamara cocked her head to the side, thinking about it.
“I might have been a bodyguard before I lost my memory,” Callan guessed with a nervous smile, trying to ease the tension in the air.
It was supposed to be a funny statement, but Kamara really pondered on that. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think it’s such a bad guess.”
Callan began shaking his head, but she persisted, her eyes looking him over. “You know about the court; you can use the sword too. It would also explain how you know how to write. Not to mention...”
“Mention what?” he asked curiously after she trailed off.
Kamara’s cheeks heated up. She cleared her throat and added. “Not to mention h-how good your physique looks. Even the wounds and scars you washed up our shores carrying on your body might be battle scars. And you have the wide chest of a warrior.”
Pleasure sizzled inside Callan’s body that she would notice all these about him. She has a good memory of him and has taken quite good notice of his body.
Wouldn’t that mean that she likes him? No. It wouldn’t mean that at all, he cautioned himself.
He led her to the door and they faced each other. Silence descended.
“Can I kiss you?” Callan blurted out.
Baski walked into the small entrance of the dungeon. She stopped when she saw Danika lying down on the cold ground several feet away from her. She turned to Dargak, who stood behind her. “Open this cell for me, please.”
“You know the king did not instruct it. It will get me into huge trouble,” the warrior answered gently.
Baski knew all that, but she was desperate. The king hadn’t gotten out of his bedroom since he walked into it in the morning. The sun was down now; it was late evening.
“I won’t put you in trouble, Dargak. I will take full responsibility for being caught inside her cell. But you have to let me in, please. It’s cold in there, and she is barely dressed,” she pleaded.
The warrior took in the dress she had in her hand. Baski did well to hide the bread she'd gotten from the kitchen inside the big petticoat, where it wouldn't be seen.
Dargak still hesitated after the eye inspection. He was wary of incurring the king's wrath. Everyone was, including Baski. No one wanted the king focused on them with the mood he was in now.
“Please, Dargak. That woman is pregnant, and she has already lost her baby. The least we can do is to clothe her up so she doesn't catch a cold. Your young wife is six months along. I'm sure you will understand this. Please,” she begged.
He sighed in resignation and walked ahead of her. The sound of a lock opening filled the air. He turned back to her. “I will only give you a short moment with her.”
“That's all I ask for. Thank you so much, Dargak.” Baski hurried past him and entered the cell. It reminded her vividly of being held captive in those cold hard cells in Mombana, and her steps faltered as the age-old fear filled her. She forced herself to fight the fear that spread through her mind. You are free now. You are no longer in captivity. You and Remeta are free again. Baski repeated that several times in her mind until she could breathe freely again. Relieved, she walked farther into the cell, observing that Danika hadn't moved an inch since she came here.
“Danika?” Baski called softly, laying the petticoat aside. She lowered herself behind Danika and touched her back tentatively.
She didn't respond. But Baski knew that she was not asleep.
Baski's eyes widened when she saw Danika's lower body. The blood that made it out of her body had dried around her thighs, and she was still dropping new ones. But she wasn't bleeding as heavily as she was supposed to. Did it mean that the child was still with her?