Did he rember? She even forgot the fabricated story she told.
"Well, rember I also said that I got lost in the mountains and stumbled upon a hermit? This house belonged to him."
She no longer saw the need to fabricate stories. Her master had chosen to leave the mountain, so what was the use of hiding it anymore?
Alaric studied her, his dark eyes unreadable. His voice, when it ca, was softer than she expected. "Thank you for saving my life, Kane. Tell what you need in return."
Lara waved a dismissive hand. "You don’t need to repay . I would do the sa for anyone in need. Even for an animal—how much more for a person?"
His gaze sharpened, tracing the lines of her face with silent curiosity.
Lara felt uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze.
"You are so young. Where did you learn dicine?" He asked curiously.
"I have a master." Lara replied softly.
"The one who owned this house?"
"Yes." The answer slipped out before she could think. Her breath hitched the mont she realized her mistake. She was unraveling her own story, one careless word at a ti.
"You must have been here for a long ti, then."Alaric’s voice was calm, but sothing in his eyes glinted with quiet intrigue.Lara hesitated. Her mind raced. Lies had tangled around her like thorny vines—each one harder to escape than the last. There was no point in weaving more.
"Yes," she finally admitted.
Then silence.
"Eat," she urged, changing the subject. "It won’t taste good when it’s cold."
Alaric exhaled, attempting to prop himself up on his elbows. The movent sent a sharp pain through his abdon, and he hissed, his body tensing.
"Be careful," Lara warned, her voice firm but not unkind. "I had a hard enough ti stitching that wound. I won’t be kind enough to do it a second ti."
Alaric pursed his lips.
Without thinking, she moved forward, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. His body tensed beneath her touch. Lara, however, remained unaffected—why would she be? She had trained under male instructors, endured physical sparring, and lived in a world where contact was casual, unremarkable.
But Alaric was different.
Heat surged beneath his skin at her closeness. Beneath layers of thick clothing, he felt the warmth of her body, the faint scent of wildflowers clinging to her hair. His heartbeat raced, hamring harder than he would ever admit.
Alaric’s face was flushed. The tip of his ears went red.
Lara pulled back once he was properly seated, eyeing him curiously.
"Your face is red. Do you have a fever?"
Before he could protest, her cool hand pressed against his forehead.
Alaric stiffened.
"This woman..." he muttered under his breath, mortified by his own reaction.
"I’m fine, Kane," he grumbled. "Just hungry and thirsty."
Lara sighed, shaking her head before handing him a wooden bowl filled with steaming chicken soup.
Alaric barely had ti to process before the aroma hit him. Rich, savory, tantalizing—it was the kind of al that made his stomach tighten with hunger. He took the wooden spoon she offered and dug in, each bite unraveling warmth inside him.
The chicken was tender, the rice fragrant. A simple al, but sohow, it was more satisfying than any elaborate nine-course feast he had ever eaten.In no ti, the bowl was empty. Alaric actually wanted more but he was not thick-skinned enough to ask.
"Thank you. That was delicious."
Lara rely humd in response, handing him a small, light brown pill.
"This will lessen the pain and speed up your healing.
"She hesitated, then added, "By the way... what’s your na, sir?"
Only now did she realize she had never properly addressed him with respect. Given the expensive dicine in his possession, he couldn’t be just an ordinary squad leader. He had to be soone of higher rank.
"Alaric," he answered briefly.
Lara’s brow furrowed. "Where are the other soldiers? Were they..." She let the question hang.
"We got separated. The bandits tricked us. The rest of my soldiers went to pursue the other group of bandits. It was too late when I realized that we were deceived. I ca back to pursue the six bandits who had what I needed. Unfortunately, we ca across a pack of wolves."
Lara paused. She thought that the soldier did not speak much. Yet now, he was explaining in detail what happened.
"That’s good. I thought it was Blabbermouth who was taken by the python."
Alaric frowned. "Who?"
"Blabbermouth. The incessant chatterbox whose lips seed perpetually glued to a runaway train of words, spilling every thought without a hint of restraint. With an uncanny ability to turn even the simplest of monts into lengthy monologues, he has an extraordinary knack for transforming silence into a cacophony, leaving everyone around him longing for a mont of peace."
"Ha ha ha," Alaric laughed, then he hissed when he felt the tug of the wound in his abdon. He did not understand all the words in her lengthy monologue but got the gist.
"You an Agilus?" he asked, smirking despite the pain.
"Yes, him."
Then silence.
Lara suddenly found she didn’t know what to say.
To break the awkwardness, she took the clothes on the foot of the bed and was about to place them in the wicker basket when Alaric’s voice made her pause.
"There is a letter in the front pocket of that clothes. I need to deliver that to General Odin in Hainai. They are planning to carry out an attack four or five days from now, but that is a death trap."
Lara’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a chill race down her spine as the na echoed in the air. A wave of disbelief washed over her—wasn’t that her ’supposed’ father?
"But your injuries—" she started, forcing steadiness into her voice. "You need at least a month to recover—"
"I don’t have a month."
His voice was resolute.
"People will die if I don’t deliver that letter in ti. I won’t let their blood be on my hands."
Lara swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the clothes.
She had only wanted to help an injured man. Yet, sohow, she had stepped into sothing far greater than she had ever anticipated.
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