20. Reunion

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His hand still raised, Reuben took a step towards them. All shrank away from him. All but one.

Ayla launched herself forward, dodging her guards’ attempt to grab her, and threw herself into Reuben's arms. She hit his chest with such force that it almost hurt. The metal of his chain mail bit through her thin gown, but she didn't care. He was safe, and she was in his arms.

A small, frightened part of her wondered whether she should really be doing this. The image of him standing up on the wall, the torch in his hand, tongues of flame caressing his fingers, had burned itself into her memory forever. This small part of her recoiled from the image, remembering tales of witchcraft and devilish evil that wandering preachers had sometimes told.

She remembered too, what she had previously not let herself notice: how Reuben had never, even with the most grievous wounds, shown the slightest sign of pain. Not like he was able to resist it, but as though he actually didn't feel it. As though some devilish force had made him invulnerable.

Could Reuben be something inhuman? Could he be something demonic?

Well, if he was, he didn't do a very good job of disguising the fact.

Reuben pressed his cheek against hers, holding her close.

“Ayla,” he murmured. That was it. Just her name.

In that moment she realized: whether demon or man, she didn't care.

Yes, what she had just seen him do was unearthly and maybe even unnatural. Yes, he had just set fire to a man right in front of her. But it hadn't been a very nice man, and he would have been killed anyway. Was it so much more terrible to be set on fire than to be chopped to pieces with a blade? Ayla didn't know. She had never tried either. All that really mattered was that he was safe, and she was safe, and they were together.

She felt him raise one of his arms, until he could stroke the wild tangles of hair handing down over her shoulders. Sighing, she leaned into the touch—only when something singed the ends of her hair, did she remember.

“Your hand,” she cried in distress. “Your hand is still burning! We have to get water!”

She tried to move away, but found Reuben's arms tightly wrapped around her, unwilling to let go. The feeling warmed her heart—yet unfortunately, since one of the aforementioned arms was still smoldering, it also warmed other parts of her which found the sensation less congenial.

“Reuben, please let go? My dress will catch fire.”

He released her immediately, and looked at her with the most adorable nefarious grin she had ever seen. “Oops.”

“Oops?” she echoed. “That's all you have to say? Oops?” With one hand, she motioned at her guards. “Go and get a bowl of water.”

When she heard no movement, not even a 'Yes, Milady', she turned and saw they were all still standing there, staring at Reuben's hand. It wasn't really still burning. He had let go of the torch up on the wall. But the metal of his gauntlet still glowed red in places, and the leather underneath was smoking.

“Go!” she yelled. “Water! Now! Or I will put you all in the stocks come tomorrow!”

That got their attention. Two or three hurried off towards the keep.

One side of Reuben's mouth quirked up. “More threats of violence?”

Ayla scowled at him. She wasn't in the mood to joke right now.

“You stupid fool! You have a codpiece for brains, do you know that? Why on earth did you go after that monster alone? You could have been seriously hurt, or killed even!”

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