A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor - Chapter 80 The Cruelty of The Gods - Part 5

Chapter 80  The Cruelty of The Gods – Part 5

His odd behaviour did little to assuage her worries – for by her eyes, it made him look even closer to death.

Hurriedly she began to clean the rest of his blood from his leg, eyeing up the cuts on his torso as she did so, to make sure there were no serious ones that had escaped her notice.

Her mother smiled at her, watching her work. “To think that you’d ever tend to a boy,” she said, flashing her the sunniest smile Nila had seen in a while.

With how emotional she’d been for the past few hours, such a thing caught her off guard, and she couldn’t help blushing where normally she might have merely frowned. “S-stop!” She said weakly, unable to think of a good response.

Nila’s mother giggled to herself as she patted Beam on the shoulder. “I’ll fetch you some of my husband’s old clothes – you can’t be going out like that in this weather.”

“…Thank you,” Beam said, his face finally looking as though something pained him.

“Sorry, am I hurting you?” Nila asked, as she cleaned her cloth again in the bowl of warm water and dabbed at him more carefully.

“It’s not that… I’m just unused to such hospitality. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to pay you back,” Beam said, awkwardly scratching his cheek.

Nila sighed a long sigh. “You’re so difficult. You’re making it harder on me, now. Can’t you see that me and my mother are grateful for what you did? Just accept that we want to pay you back, idiot.”

Beam winced as Nila cleaned around his stitches with a little more aggression than she had intended to. “Ah, sorry,” she said, realising her mistake.

“Do these look like they’ll fit?” Her mother called out from the other side of the room as she searched through a chest. Nila felt a pang in her heart as she saw her father’s old clothes. “Ah… They seem a little big. But I suppose as long as they keep you warm, that’s the main thing.”

Nila’s mother looked at her carefully, as though expecting her to protest that she was giving her father’s clothes away. And ordinarily, of course, Nila would have. They were one of the few things that still tied her to her dead father. But not today. How could she? The boy had saved her life. She owed him far more than a measly few clothes, and she was well aware of that.

“Sit up dear, I’ll start cleaning your back,” Nila’s mother said, finding another cloth to soak in the bucket of warm water that Nila was using.

Beam pulled himself up, the chair creaking as he did. It felt like a monumental task in that moment. His muscles ached from it. And that was without mentioning what felt like a thousand cuts stinging the surface of his skin.

Nila moved on to clean his chest as well, and Beam felt even more awkward as she came so close. What had been a pleasant distance from reality that he’d felt earlier – from blood loss, and the warm feeling of death being so close – had started fading and he became hyper-aware of the situation he was in.

Her hair brushed his skin as she worked, and the feminine scent of a woman invaded his nostrils. Their eyes met for a second as she looked up from her work, and from her face, Beam could see that she looked as awkward as he felt. He dared to close his eyes, making the experience a little easier on his fragile heart.

“You’ve had your share of pain, haven’t you?” He heard Nila’s mother whisper as she traced the scars on his back with her finger.

Beam didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say.

“There, done,” Nila pronounced, “I’ll start working in the honey now, right mother?”

Nila’s mother glanced at Beam’s front. “My my. She’s gotten you quite clean, hasn’t she Beam? Mm, yes, I would think you can start running the honey through now. Be gentle though, okay?”

Nila frowned at the warning to be gentle. She knew she wasn’t exactly known for being gentle. She knew that people saw her as something of a tomboy. But even she wasn’t clumsy enough to hurt the wounded. Especially not the wounded that she owed so much to.

The two of them together began dressing the last of Beam’s wounds, as Beam sat there in a daze, half tempted to fall asleep.

After the honey, they cleaned off his body again with their cloths, making sure any of the blood that had leaked out during the dressing process was long gone.

“And now for your shirt, put your arms up,” Nila’s mother said with a smile. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

But Beam was hesitant. “Are you really sure? It’s going to get ruined from my cuts.”

“Nonsense,” she said, “it wasn’t doing anything being tucked away in the chest like that. If someone can get some use out of it, then I’m sure everyone is happier, no?”

Beam looked to Nila, not feeling entirely convinced.

“Just put the shirt on, stupid,” Nila said, exasperated, grabbing the shirt from her mother and putting Beam’s head through it.

“Ah! Be gentle!” Her mother warned, as she helped get his arms through.

“I know that…” Nila said huffily, as she did the other side. “There, done.”

It was indeed a little big, Beam realized instantly, as the shirt hung down nearly to his knees. But the warmth it offered was well worth it. Beam hadn’t realized he’d been so cold until he finally had something to keep the heat in.

“Thanks,” he said, looking down on himself.

“Now for your trousers,” Nila’s mother stated, holding up a pair of woollen trousers that would be way too big for Beam. “Nila, you’re going to have to change him with me. He won’t be able to move himself, after all.”

Like that, Beam was on his feet before he knew what was happening, shaking his hands urgently in front of him as he fended them off. “Nope! I’m fine for trousers, thank you. You’ve already given me too much.”