Ostus rocked back on his heels from Kiara's push. It wasn't enough to sent him sprawling, but the meaning behind it had his mind reeling. She was still feeling the effects of what happened... and she was blaming him for it. 

"You would have died had you not killed them!" Ostus roared back, suddenly angry. Why was it that every time he tried to do something nice for her, she threw it back in his face? "You saw how that one fucktard kept moving despite having the shit beat out of him. I should have ran him through with my sword when I had the chance. If you hadn't killed them, they would have killed you!" He seethed. "Of course I know killing isn't amazing! I've been through enough battles and watched too many of my friends die to know that there's nothing good about it! What [i]is[/i] amazing is that you saved my life! You, the princess, saved a seasoned soldier's life! In my experience, saying you were amazing is the very least I can do to express my gratitude. But go ahead, blame me for having killed some fuckers obviously out to attack you. If not for me, you would have been dead before the first night!"

He cursed under his breath and left the tent, pacing just outside of it as he struggled to calm down. He felt like he was moving one step forward and two steps back with her; how was he to protect her when she was like this? He began to wonder if he had made a bad choice in accepting this assignment, if perhaps another guard would have been more suitable for the likes of her. He usually didn't doubt himself like this, which made him angrier that she put him in this mental state. Since when did emotional connection factor into a job like this? He just needed to get her to where she needed to go, dump her there, then return home. They didn't need to like each other for that. So why did her retort bother him so much?

He sighed, his shoulder slumping as the speed of his pace slowed. He had to remind himself that she was still undergoing shock over what just happened. Perhaps she didn't mean anything she said. He shouldn't take it so personally.

He knew that was a lie. Of course he took it personally, but he couldn't figure out why. Regardless, he still had a job to do. So, he re-entered the tent. "Blame me for everything, I don't fucking care," he muttered, "but we need to gauge the seriousness of that wound. If it festers, every movement we take through these mountains will be agony, and you'll fall sick. And if you fucking say you deserve it after after what those lowlife pieces of shit tried to do, then... fuck, I don't know what I'll do, but I hope you're not that dumb."