That bastard let Aamon get tortured until he obliged. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the bloodthirsty bastard watching with a cruel smirk as Aamon was being tortured. Minerva felt like crap. Knowing that Aamon killed for his own selfishness to save her life made her feel sick to her stomach. She felt like throwing up. Minerva felt the bile rising in her throat and she ran out of the cottage. She rushed over to a random tree and threw up her guts. And eggs from this morning’s breakfast.
With one hand holding onto her aching stomach, the other braced her on the trunk of the tree. By the time she was done, her throat was burning like it was on fire and she realized a hand, not of her own, was holding her hair up the whole time and the other, rubbing her back gently. He must have been right on her trail once she ran out here. Minerva murmured a ‘thanks’ to Aamon. And received a nod in response. He followed her into the cottage, Minerva heading straight for the wooden pail of water near the fireplace. After grabbing the pail of water, she grabbed the jar of paste from upon one of her shelves on the wall. Trudging to the nearest window and opening it, she set the pail of water on the ledge and opened the jar of paste. Minerva grabbed a handful of paste and put it in her mouth, wiping and washing her teeth and mouth from the horrid vomit. After doing it twice to make sure her mouth was refreshed, she gargled handfuls of water and when done, she spits it out the open window. Wiping a leftover drop of water from her bottom lip, she turned to Aamon. “I’ll help. You can also stay.”
Aamon thanked Minerva as she glimpsed outside and closed the window, noticing it was beginning to get dark. She turned around to face him and said, “It’s getting dark outside…. you should probably wash up.”
The witch went to fetch him a towel and bar of soap from the basket at the foot of her bed.
She handed him the towel and a bar of soap. “The water nymphs died out after four years of your disappearance so, you can use the lake out back. It’s safe.”
She watched as Aamon left out the front door and around the cottage to the lake behind it. Minerva breathed a heavy sigh and closed her golden eyes, running her fingers through her naturally black and red-highlighted curly hair (Perks of being a witch: you are born with an unusual combination of hair colors and eyes). And the curse but she disposed of that thought to the back of her head.
He’s back. He’s actually back. She repeated this many more times in her head trying to comprehend and accept the truth. Minerva opened her eyes and stalked over to the leftover trunk between the side of her bed and the fireplace. After unlocking the latch and fully opening the trunk, she took out a loose white cotton shirt and black pants from the trunk full of a few of Aamon’s leftover clothes. Hopefully, they’d still fit. Before closing the trunk, she dug through some other articles of clothing and felt beads. She pulled them out to reveal a beaded necklace and was captivated by it before throwing it back into the trunk.
No need recalling that memory now.
After locking and closing the trunk, Minerva took the two articles of clothing outside with her and around to the back of the cottage. She went to set them near his previous clothes, black boots, and sword lying on the grass, but stopped. Her eyes were concentrated on the scars on Aamon from his muscled back and the waist up to his shoulders. He didn’t notice her since he was preoccupied in still washing himself. At least, that’s what Minerva thought.
“Has anyone told you it’s not polite to stare?”
Aamon was looking at her over his shoulder. His body now, in full view. Minerva dropped the clean clothes next to the previous ones and stood up straight.
“Sorry,” she apologized, glaring at him back. “I just came to bring you clean clothes.”
With that, she disappeared back the way she came. Not even caring to acknowledge, the fact that she saw her ex-friend…naked.