Wendigo Wars (8 page)

By the end of the first hour Mathilde had memorised, yet again, every crack, corner and shadow in the room in her attempt not to look at Dash.
Only five hours left to
go thought Mathilde as she wondered how many times she could count the bricks in the wall before it drove her mad. She cursed her forgetfulness once again. A game of Solitaire was looking really appealing right about now.

All of a sudden Mathilde became aware that it was too quiet in the room. Dash did not snore but he did breathe heavily enough for it to create a constant background noise. The noise was now gone. Mathilde squinted at Dash from across the room, not wanting to get closer if she didn’t have to. His chest was still, his face like a statue. Mathilde stood up and approached slowly, stopping every couple of steps to squint at his chest and listen for a sound of breathing. As she reached his body his chest still did not seem to be rising and falling. Mathilde gently placed her hand on his neck, her hand resting on his collar bone and her fingers touching his skin, lightly at first and then with more pressure as she searched for his pulse. Where her fingers and palm touched his skin she felt as if she were on fire. Though Dash’s skin was no hotter than hers the touch sent a thousand tingles through her palm and finger tips, up her arm and into her chest.

Dash gasped for air and then settled into his steady breathing pattern again. Mathilde started in surprise and pulled her hand quickly away from his chest but then lay it back down again before she could stop herself. Now that she had crossed that barrier and touched him once she felt like her hand was pulled back and held in the same spot, as if a magnet lay under his skin with the partnering magnet under her own.

Mathilde’s head told her to go back to her seat in the corner,
move your hand, stop touching him, move back
, but she couldn’t move. Mathilde could feel Dash’s heartbeat under her palm, his chest was comfortably warm and she could feel the slight scattering of rough hairs under her hand. His pulse pressed against her fingertips and she moved them slowly to stroke the part of his neck where the blood pulsed through his veins. Mathilde could hear her own breath now and felt her own chest rise and fall. She wanted nothing more than to lay her cheek on this stranger’s chest or to lightly press her lips against his and feel the breath from his nose against her face.

Mathilde pulled her hand violently away from Dash’s chest, causing him to move and frown a little in his sleep. She shot back to her chair in the corner, embarrassed and scared at the strength of attraction she had felt. This wasn’t her. She was always in control, she had never felt like this before, and over a stranger? It just felt wrong.

Mathilde spent the rest of the night pressed into the corner. Dash’s breathing faltered a couple of times but Mathilde could not bring herself to go to him, not trusting that she could come away again. For the first time Mathilde did not try to avoid looking at Dash but instead stared at him from a safe distance. She examined and memorised every shadow on his face, his pale and perfect skin with the thick black stubble, his red lips which were neither thick nor thin, and his straight perfect nose. His jawbone was straight and squared. His dark hair curled over his collar and locks of it stuck to his forehead. It took all of Mathilde’s will power not to go to him and stroke the hair off his forehead.

By the time that Violette arrived at 6am Mathilde knew every part of his face and her head swam dizzily. Her mind swam with images of his face and the beginnings of fantasies that made her blush. As Violette came into the room Mathilde felt embarrassed, as if Violette were Fleur and could read her mind. Of course she couldn’t but she did raise a confused eyebrow at Mathilde’s flushed face.

“Anything happen overnight?” asked Violette with concern for her patient.

“Nothing,” said Mathilde a bit too quickly “I’m off. Battle plans to make,” Mathilde said as she

stood quickly make her escape but as she walked to the door she heard the voice which she had successfully avoided for the past few days, heavy with a permanent hint of humour and sadness in equal measure, rich with the Romanian inflections.

“Come back to visit later, after lunch.”

Mathilde jumped but forced herself not to turn around. To see him awake after some of the thoughts that had been going through her mind just moments earlier would be mortifying.

“Erm I am not sure I will have time. There is a lot of work to be done with the Protectorate”

“Please?” the voice drawled, deep and persuasive.

“Maybe,” said Mathilde and she hurried out of the door, happy that she had made her exit without having to look at her beautiful enemy.

Mathilde arrived back at Violette’s alcove to the smell of bacon  cooking and the sight of Seb’s face grinning as he towered above the stove making it look like a child’s toy.

“Good night Tills? You look in a foul mood. Does the freak snore?”

Mathilde glared at Seb, grateful for the breakfast he put in front of her but not in the mood for any of his good natured ribbing. Not when her head was swimming and she was still annoyed at her traitorous heart.

“Give it break Seb, ok? I’m a bit tired.”

Mathilde tried not to be too grumpy with Seb but her irritated nerves didn’t help. Seb gave a strange smile and sat opposite Mathilde. He didn’t speak but just watched her in silence as she ate. His eyes watched her every move as he seemed to be trying to work out why she was in such a strange mood.

“Don’t worry Tilly. We will get them into shape.”

Mathilde looked at Seb in confusion for a moment, trying to figure out if she had missed part of the conversation.

“I mean they are hardly the best Protectorate in the world but we will get them there with a bit more training.”

Mathilde smiled, finally understanding and thankful that Seb had guessed the wrong reason for her mood.

The morning passed both too slowly and too quickly. Mathilde had a constant fandango of butterflies in her stomach. Though terrified to see Dash face to face and have to look into those eyes she was also excited and found herself thinking, for the first time in her life, whether her hair looked ok and whether her clothes fit well enough. Once again this kick started a feeling of annoyance at being so affected by him. By lunchtime Mathilde was a wreck. She had never felt so completely unsure of herself and her own emotions.

As Mathilde walked into the hospital alcove she saw that Dash was sitting up eating his lunch. A plate had been set on the table for Mathilde. Dash looked at her and once again she felt a jolt and her stomach turned over as he looked her steadily straight in the eye. Maddeningly he looked even more attractive and younger than he had before as his hair had been trimmed and his stubble shaved off leaving his pale skin invitingly smooth. Now he looked merely six or seven years older than Mathilde rather than ten. She guessed at age twenty four. His expression was serious and for a moment Mathilde thought that she had misunderstood, that the other plate was for Violette and that he hadn’t really meant for her to visit him. Then his gaze became warmer.

“I’m glad you came. I wasn’t sure that you would.”

Mathilde was surprised. Dash didn’t look like he had lived a single day in his life where anything but utter confidence had entered his mind. His sense of superiority unsettled Mathilde. She was positive that he hadn’t really been unsure for a second, that he knew that she was already completely under his command.

“Sit down and eat. You look like you need a rest.”

“So how are you feeling?” asked Mathilde as she took a seat, cursing the unnatural sound of her voice.

“Sore but your sister is taking good care of me. She says I might be able to go for a walk around tomorrow. Get my muscles working again.”

“So what happened to you?”

“It’s a long story.”

Mathilde frowned. She didn’t know who he thought he was impressing by being so difficult. It was infuriating.

“You look like you know a little about wendigo attacks yourself. Your sister told me a little about you. I’m sorry about your mother, and your brother.”

Mathilde was taken aback for a second. It was a long time since anyone had mentioned her mother or her scar. She suddenly felt very self conscious, both of who she was and how she must look. She shook her head so that her hair fell over the scar on her face a little. Dash laughed.

“Hey look at me! Compared to you I am a patchwork quilt.” Then more quietly “besides it is kind of attractive. You suit your scar. It’s.....interesting.”

Yeah really interesting
thought Mathilde
interestingly hideous. Thanks for pointing it out!
“So why did you want me to visit you?” she said. “From what I have heard half the women here have come to have a peek at our mysterious visitor.”

“It is nice to be made to feel welcome but they are all open books.  No mystery. You’re different. You have seen things. The same things as I have - the same enemy.”

“So about this wendigo attack then?. How did you come to be out of a settlement on your own? Stupid or unfortunate?”

Dash glared at Mathilde, “So how come that wendigo didn’t eat you when you were little? Not tasty enough?”

Mathilde gasped at Dash’s arrogance and insensitivity. Dash had the good grace to look ashamed. They sat in silence glaring at each other and picking at their meal.
If you think I’m going to be nice now you can guess again
Mathilde thought, wondering how she could ever have found him attractive.

“So come on. We take you in, look after you, heal your wounds, feed you and you can’t even be bothered to tell us how you got in this state or who you are. Some gratitude! We should toss you back to the wendigo. We don’t even know your surname.”

“Domanescu. My name is Dashiel Domanescu”

“Great. That means nothing to me though. That doesn’t answer any of my other questions. Who are you really? Who is your family? What settlement have you come from?”

Mathilde was beginning to get angrier with every passing second. He was a frustrating, infuriating man and she found that she was almost shouting at him.

“It’s complicated. My family... well they are well known in old Romania, the Romania of a decade or so ago. I am not sure if the people at this settlement like my family, or me. They might not want me here if they knew.”

“You sure think a lot of yourself. What makes you think that anyone will care? So if you are far too important can you at least tell me where your family is? How you came to be on the outside on your own? Hardly a close knit family are you?”

Mathilde knew that she was being sarcastic, offensive even, but she was beyond annoyed at his evasiveness. Dash looked at his plate and started to eat again. He gulped and Mathilde was not sure if he was swallowing the food he had been chewing or swallowing back tears. She instantly felt guilty. They ate in silence for the rest of her visit.

“I had better get back to my work,” said Mathilde as she stood to leave.

She had not yet apologised but she didn’t know how to. He had been insensitive too and he hadn’t said sorry. Mathilde was still hovering by the table and deciding what to do when the oldest members of the settlement not a day under eighty five years each, Flavius and Florin, came in hauling their chess board with them.

“Ah, our young Protector Superior,” said Flavius “Nice of you to visit our patient.”

“Hi. I was just leaving. Do you visit often?”

“Nope, it’s our first visit. We saw him being dragged in but we thought we would leave him to get better before we came. You need a clear head to play chess.” Flavius chuckled and nodded towards the board.

“We thought we would wait for his admirers to clear the way too. He’s been quite a hit,” chortled Florin.

“Mmm” said Mathilde. She still felt annoyed at Dash and didn’t particularly want to hear about his many admirers. Mathilde stepped aside to let Flavius and Florin in. “You have visitors Dash. I’m sure you can be nice for
them
.”

Dash raised his eyebrows in amusement which irritated Mathilde even further. As she turned to leave she noticed that Flavius and Florin had stopped in their tracks. Their mouths hanging open as they stared at Dash. They shot each other a quick glance then suddenly both dropped to their knees.

“Your Highness!” said Flavius. “We didn’t realise”

“Sir! You have your mother’s eyes and you are the image of your father. Prince Dashiel it is an honour”

Mathilde looked at Dash, her face frozen in amazement, then she stormed out of the hospital wing. Her previous irritation was now at full blown one hundred percent fury!

Chapter Eleven

Mathilde managed to avoid seeing Dash awake for three days. They had been three very annoying days with daytimes surrounded by the buzzing of gossip about ‘Prince’ Dash and nights spent watching Dash sleep with a queasy mixture of annoyance and attraction. Thankfully Dash had stayed asleep for the whole of the night shifts so Mathilde had not needed to make conversation.

Mathilde walked as slowly as she could back towards the hospital alcove. Though Dash was well enough not to need watching anymore Protector Superior Paul had raised new concerns which had caused the twenty four hour watch to continue.

Mathilde had been surprised to find out that not everyone was a fan of the Romanian royal family and, though she had only heard people saying good things, there was no telling if there was anyone in the settlement who was among the critics of them. Paul was working on finding out if there were any of the people who had once made up The People’s Rebellion among the community.

Mathilde finally arrived at the hospital alcove, despite her slow pace, and walked in to find that Dash was still awake. For a brief second Mathilde’s legs told her to turn around and run but her head made her stop. Seb stared at her from the corner and looked in a horrible mood.

“Evening, I thought you would be asleep by now.” Mathilde tried not to sound as annoyed as she felt. She hated feeling tricked.