Cursed 2

THIRTY FOUR

As the hours passed, the night became colder and colder in Áine and only a small fire in the room managed to warm them little by little.
Squirrel, exhausted from that day, fell asleep instantly in the only bed there was.
Across the room, Nimue watched as the monk removed his clothing except for the pants, revealing wounds on his side that had not yet healed.

“You're bleeding?” Nimue asked, “What are you going to do?”

“It's nothing, they're not recent, I'm just going to clean them” he said without looking at her.

“Let me see them, they could be infected. I learned a few things from my mother.”

The Weeping Monk hesitated for a few seconds but finally left her. Nimue grabbed a cloth and dipped it in water in a wide-mouthed jar. When she was cleaning the wounds, she happened to see the scars on the monk's broad back that made her remember her own. Suddenly, the young woman gently placed her cold hand on those marks, causing her sudden touch surprise him but end up being comforting for him. She wanted to know who that man was and why he killed so many Feys.

“Tell me something Lancelot. Are you an Ash man, right? That's why you and Squirrel found me in Graymalkin because you tracked me down.”

“That's right, although you don't just smell like Fey” he replied looking at her curiously.

“Thank my father” she said with a small laugh.

“How do you know we track? We are no longer many and fewer in these lands.”

Nimue paused briefly before answering as she placed the damp cloth inside the jar after cleaning the wounds.

“My mother used to tell me stories about the Feys and among them about the Ash folk, that's why I know.”

“Where's your mother?”

“She died. The Red Paladins killed her.”

The Weeping Monk fell silent knowing that inevitably he was also partly the culprit.

“And your family?” she asked, “you will have one.”

“They had no better luck.”

“The Paladins? And why were you fighting for them?”

“I was just a child when they took me in, they told me that my simple existence was the work of the devil. I believed in Father Carden's words, I thought they were the words of God, but they were empty and he only used me for his benefit... I thought he loved me. I was lost.”

“Were you?”

“I think I've found my own way” he answered giving her a fragile and honest look.

Nimue lowered her head and smirked slightly. The warm and dim light of the fire was the only thing that illuminated the room.

“Be strong Lancelot, you never know who you inspire” she said pointing to Squirrel who wouldn't stop snoring on the bed, causing him to smile.

“It's late, tomorrow is the meeting with the king. Sleep with Percival, I'm going to take one last look.”

“Did he tell you his name?” the young woman asked incredulously, “It is rare that he says his real name.”

“Yes, but don't tell him I called him that. It seems he doesn't like it and I don't want his to start hating me for it.”

The two began to laugh causing pretty dimples in her cheeks and small wrinkles around his eyes.

“I won't tell him” she replied sweetly laying down next to Squirrel.

The wall between them was beginning to break down and Nimue couldn't help but feel that this man was not as infamous as she believed.
Something had changed, something had been born, a spark was lit and a strange feeling grew when they were together.