Soon, he found himself lying face down on the floor, panting like a bound beast. The man pinning him roared in his ear, "Get a hold of yourself, damn it! Her ladyship will be fine. Absolutely fine!"
His mind felt blank. He watched her shiver, at a complete loss for what to do. A moment later, he hastily covered her with the blanket again and slid his hand beneath it to feel her cold, damp leg. As the sheet grew wetter, a chill coursed through him as if he were the one losing blood.
So why was she wandering from one battlefield to another? Riftan twisted his lips. He had been so confident when he took her from Croyso Castle. Perhaps even a bit smug. After all, risking his life on behalf of her house had won him universal recognition. Did that not make him worthy of her?
He gazed over the battlefield, a bitter grumble escaping his lips. A surge of rage and frustration overcame him. This was no place for someone like her. He wanted her to be as far away from this gruesome scene as possible.
Riftan arched an eyebrow. Though he looked sullen, she could tell he was secretly happy. He liked it when she teased him. He also liked it when she slapped his arm or back in exasperation, or when she playfully toyed with his hair while he slept. In truth, there was nothing she did that Riftan did not like.