Warrior Rising (Goddess Summoning #6)(42)

“Escaping?” Jacky frowned at them. “We’re not escapin’.”

The women looked at Jacky as if she had sprouted wings. One of them began to rub something that looked like a penis amulet that hung from a braided hemp rope around her neck as she quickly backed a couple steps away.

“That’s really nice of you, but like I said last night, I’m fine,” Kat said. Before Jacky’s feathers could ruffle she amended, “We’re fine. Honestly. I’ll let you know if we need anything.”

“Princess, I—” Aetnia began.

“You’re being all annoyin’? Is that what you were gettin’ ready to say?” Jacky interrupted with a saccharine smile. “’Cause you definitely are.”

The woman who was still clutching the penis amulet suddenly said, “Melia, you were not a healer in the palace. You were only the princess’s servant.”

“I’ve changed,” Jacky said in her take-no-prisoners voice.

“Melia has always had many talents,” Kat said, elbowing Jacky. A stirring in the group of men caught the edge of Kat’s vision. “Speaking of, it looks like the wrestling match is over and Melia had better check out Patroklos’s stitches. So I’ll see you later, ladies.” She grabbed Jacky’s arm and hauled her away from the women. “Jacky, those women know you,” Kat whispered to her.

“Those women do not know me.”

“They know you.” Kat fluttered her hand at Jacky’s new body.

“Oh. I forgot. So?”

“So we don’t need the drama trauma of a bunch of war prizes freaking over the fact that you and I aren’t who or what we appear to be.”

“What difference does it make? Like you said, we’re not gonna be here very long. Plus, you’re a princess. They’re servants. They can’t do shit to you.”

“That doesn’t—”

“Little Melia! My savior! Just in time to wipe up my blood!”

Patroklos grabbed Jacky, lifted her in his arms and kissed her soundly. Kat stared, mouth flopping, as Jacky giggled, pushed half-heartedly against him and blushed a gorgeous shade of pink. “Put me down before you mess up my stitches. And where the hell are you bleeding now?”

“It isn’t me this time. It’s him.” Patroklos jerked his chin at Achilles. “But I still want you to mop the blood from me, my beautiful little war bride.” He put Jacky down, but not before kissing her again.

Jacky took a shaky step away from Patroklos, and still blushing, turned to Achilles. “Let me look at that sword wound.”

“It is nothing.” Achilles made an abrupt gesture with his hand, cutting off Jacky’s advance. “Worry about his stitches. I’ll mind my own wound.”

Jacky shrugged. “Whatever.” She glanced at Kat as she turned back to examine the smiling Patroklos’s stitches. “You should probably make sure it’s clean.”

“I do not—” Achilles began.

Kat squared her shoulders and finally looked at him. “It needs to be cleaned out.” Their eyes met. Kat wished like hell that his face was easier to read. At the moment all she saw was the guarded mask he liked to show the public.

“I thought you did not like the sight of blood,” Achilles said.

“All the more reason to clean it off,” Kat said, trying not to be too glad he remembered she didn’t like blood.

“Very well,” Achilles said.

“It doesn’t look deep,” Jacky said, peering around Patroklos’s shoulder. “Saltwater should work fine.”

“There’s an ocean of that right there. Perhaps, cousin, you should take another swim?” Patroklos put his arm around Jacky as he grinned at Kat.

Kat looked from Patroklos to Achilles and wondered just exactly what he’d told his cousin about last night.

Jacky, who had neatly sidestepped Patroklos’s grasping arm said, “Do not start with me. You’re covered with sweat and sand and his blood. You need a swim, too.”

“Then we all go!” Patroklos took Jacky’s hand and started off down the beach. Kat looked at Achilles. He raised a brow at her.

“You’re covered with sweat and sand and your blood,” she said.

“Very well,” Achilles repeated. “We go with them.”

They followed Patroklos and Jacky. At first neither of them said anything. Kat glanced at him. “Sorry about that cut,” she said.

He looked surprised. “Why do you apologize for something that isn’t your fault?”

“It was my fault. You were looking at me and not paying attention to the guy coming at you with the sword.”

He gave a little snort of laughter. “The fault isn’t yours. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be distracted.”

“Do you always make sure you’re in perfect control?” She asked the question automatically, and almost instantly regretted it. The night before he had definitely not been in control—not on the beach, and not later alone with her in his tent.

His blue eyes seemed to darken as they met hers. Instead of answering her he said, “I slept last night.”

“I’m glad,” she said, and then cursed softly as she tripped on the edge of her robe. Abruptly he put out his arm for her to take. She wrapped her hand around his thick bicep, not minding at all that it was slick with sweat. “Thanks,” Kat said.