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He leaned against her.  Tall, strong man that he was, he was now trusting a slip of a girl to guide him to safety.   He inhaled sharply as the wound in his head released another pang.  And he breathed in her scent.  Like fresh apples.  

How did she smell like the apple trees in his grandfather’s orchard?  The ones he’d climbed as a boy.  Suddenly, the sun was golden on his face as he clung to a branch and reached for a bright crimson apple.  He bit into it, and the fresh crispness of that sweet fruit filled his senses with goodness.  He sighed.  He missed his grandfather’s orchards.  And his apples.  

“What’s your name?” Taehyung asked as he winced from the pain in his head.

She noticed.  “Hang in there.  I’ll mix you a poultice.  Once I’ve cleaned it, it will feel better.”

“You mean after you set it on fire?” His lips twisted wryly.

She sighed.  “I do have to disinfect it.  I’m so sorry.  It will hurt.  But the pain will fade, and the medicine will make it feel better.”

Another wave of dizziness hit him.  He stopped walking.  He felt like he was going to barf.  His fingers dug into her arm.  He felt her gasp from their bite.  He experienced immediate remorse and loosened his hold on her.

“So sor—“

He lurched to the left and puked into a bush.  He stood, shoulders heaving, as he gasped for air.  

What on earth was going on?  Who had hit him?  Why?

Suddenly alarmed, he spun around.  “Where is the king?  Where is Moonflower?”

She stared, uncomprehending, up at the beautiful man.  Why was he babbling about the king?  And moonflowers?  Clearly, his wits had been addled when the blow had landed on his head.

“The king is in bed, of course.  And the moonflowers look especially pretty tonight.  If you’re done being sick, let’s get your scalp taken care of.”  She reached out to him.

Once again, he leaned his considerable frame up against her tiny one.  They plodded onward.  A few moments later, she pushed the door to her bedroom open and led him inside.  

“Let’s put you on my bed.”

But he resisted the pull of her arm.  She glanced up at him quizzically.

“I don’t want to get blood all over your bed.”

In the dim light of the one burning candle, she could now see that his face was covered partially by blood too.

“All right.  Let me wipe your face off, then you can remove your shirt.  Then, you can sit on my bed.”

A few moments later, he lifted his arms as she slowly and carefully peeled his shirt off of him.  She was standing right in front of him, gazing at that beautiful torso.  She swallowed.  He smelled good too.  If she ignored the metallic scent of his blood.  Something deeper, earthy, clung to him.  Like she wanted to.

She immediately banished that absurd thought.  She didn’t even know this man!  She most certainly did not wish to cling to him.  Even if he was gorgeous.  And strong.  And noble.  

He must be noble.  He was the king’s guard.  And he was hurt.  She needed to attend to his head.  

He was also weaving again. 

“Come.  You must lie down before you fall down.”

She led him to her bed and lay a towel down before encouraging him to lie on his stomach.  She needed to be able to reach the wound on the back of his head.  He lay down, exposing his strong back to her.  She looked away.  Those crazy thoughts were spinning through her mind again.

She strode across her chamber to find the necessary supplies.  She also lit a torch and carried it towards her bed.  She set it in the sconce above her bed and sat gingerly down next to him.  She bent over him and began to examine the wound.  Then she spoke.

“I’m sorry.  This is going to hurt.”  She poured the alcohol over his wound.  

He tensed and sucked air between his teeth.  He was on fire now.  At least his head was.  He tried to concentrate on her scent.

“How is it that you smell of apples?” he murmured, his eyes closed.

She smiled.  “It’s apple blossoms.  I make my perfume out of them.”

“You smell heavenly.  Like my grandpa’s apple orchard,” he murmured.  

She smiled as she dabbed at the wound with a cloth.  The gash was still bleeding profusely.  She grabbed a length of clean linen and began to mix a poultice to rub onto the cloth.  Once this was done, she covered the wound with the medicine and then applied the cloth.  She found a longer strip to wind around his head.  She bound it tightly, applying pressure to the wound.

He was cringing.  “That really hurts.”

“I know, but I must apply pressure to get it to stop bleeding.”

“How old are you?” he asked suddenly to distract himself.

“Seventeen.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mari.”

“Hmm.  Mari.  That’s a pretty name.”  

He closed his eyes.  His head was still throbbing.  Pain was burning itself into his consciousness.  So was worry.  

What if Yoongi wasn’t all right?  What if Moonflower had been hurt?  Why else would someone knock him out?

He began to move.

“Stop!” Mari yelled at him.  “Do not move!  We have to stop your wound from bleeding.”

“I must check on the king.”

“I told you: he’s fine.  It’s after three in the morning.  He’s in bed.”

“You don’t understand.  He was in the garden.”

“What?”

He could hear the surprise in her voice.

“I must get up.”

There was nothing for it.  She suddenly straddled his back, her bottom landing over his waist.  She bent over him and whispered in his ear. 

“You are not going anywhere.  You were just knocked out by a fierce blow.  You’re fighting dizziness.  You just puked back there.  You’re suffering from a concussion, and you’ve lost a lot of blood.  I must get your wound to stop bleeding first.”

“But the king might be in danger!” he cried out in frustration.

Who did this irritating girl think she was to defy a member of the king’s guard?

“He might be, but right now I know for sure that you are in danger.  So you are my first priority.”

“Well, the king is mine!  It’s my responsibility to keep him safe!”

“All by yourself?” she retorted.

“Well, no!  But, yes!  No one else knew he was in the garden tonight.”  

Except Jungkook.

“Still.  Did a band of marauders scale the palace walls and sneak past the many guards to capture a king?  I hardly think so.”

“I do not know.  I know only that my gut says they’re in trouble.”

“They?  Who else besides the king?”

Taehyung fell silent.

She leaned closer to him until her breath was sliding over his ear.  “So…you won’t tell me, eh?  I think there’s more to this story than meets the eye.  The king in the garden very early in the morning.  Not alone…”  

She gasped.  “It’s a girl, isn’t it?  The king was meeting a girl in the garden?  A secret dalliance, perhaps?  Oh!  How romantic!  

“I would never have thought the king had a romantic bone in his body.  That blond wig, his haughty sneer, that wicked scar on his face…all conspire to make him appear unapproachable.  Terrifying even.

“Wait a minute!  Did he get that scar in defense of his beloved?  Oh!  That would be truly romantic!”

Tae rolled his eyes.  This girl had a wilder imagination than even he did.  He had to stop her.

“Are you going to keep yapping, or are you going to let me get up and go save them?”

She was so tempted to smack him upside the head.  Instead she bent over him and hissed into his ear again.  “You are terribly ungrateful.  I probably saved your life tonight, yet all you’ve done is snap at me.  Most ungrateful,” she huffed.

“I would be very grateful,” he forced out through clenched teeth, “if you would get off of me and let me go save my friends.”

Was Moonflower being violated as Taehyung lay here on another woman’s bed?  He couldn’t stand the thought.  He had to get up.  

“Enough!” he suddenly exploded.  “If you don’t get off me, I’ll scream and bring the whole palace into your room.”

Shock ricocheted through her.  “You wouldn’t dare?!”  

She stared down at him in anger.  She’d thought he was a pretty boy, but his attitude and behavior were atrocious.  “You would sully my reputation!?”

“To save a king?  Yes!!!!” he shouted heartlessly.

“Fine!  Bleed out, for all I care!  You are the most ungrateful boy I have ever met!” she huffed as she climbed off of him.  

Tae rolled to his side and sat up.  And nearly fell over.  He held himself up.  But just barely.  He closed his eyes to see if he could get the room to stop spinning.  But, apparently, it wasn’t the room.  Because even with closed eyes, everything kept spinning.  He fell back onto the bed.  

Mari gazed down at him.  The man was unconscious.  Again.

But still gorgeous.

She sighed.  Just her luck to find the most beautiful of boys.  And for him to be a total jerk.  And completely oblivious to her. 

Still, she needed to make sure that wound stopped seeping.  It seemed she’d be spending the night with a man in her bed, after all.  Would she survive this morning with her honor intact?

She yawned.  She hadn’t slept enough.  A loud noise had awoken her around two-thirty.  She hadn’t been able to get it out of her head.  Finally, she’d climbed from her bed and wandered out to the garden to investigate.  

Not the smartest of plans, perhaps, but she’d been so curious.  She had walked for a few moments.  Then, she’d found him.  The beautiful boy.  Lying unconscious in the garden.  Under the moonlight.