by E G Radcliff
The story concluded in her apartment, and she leaned back thoughtfully. “That’s incredible.” She bit at the end of her nail. “It’s almost unbelievable, actually. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen the way you looked. I’ve never heard anything like it before.”
Ronan had more pressing issues, however, and he looked up to Boudicca. “Miss Boudicca? Do you have any food?”
✽ ✽ ✽
Boudicca clattered around in the kitchen while Ronan sat at the table with his legs tucked under him. Áed stood in front of Boudicca’s bookcase, admiring the different colors of the bindings, the varying thicknesses of the pages, and the stamped images on the covers. In some books, pictures took up space on the pages, and he examined these with great interest in an attempt to glean the story.
Boudicca poked her head around the corner, stepping out of the room where delicious cooking smells gathered. She saw the book he was holding and smiled. “Found the most boring book in my collection, I see.”
“Boring?” He looked down at the pictures again. “You could have fooled me.”
She laughed. “A Compendium of Herbal Remedies?” She leaned on the doorway. “I use it for reference. It’s like a healer’s encyclopedia.”
“Really?”
“What did you think it was?”
“I was trying to figure that out.”
She cocked her head in puzzlement. “You didn’t read the cover?”
Áed laughed, closing the book and sliding it back into place. “I can’t read.”
Color rose immediately in her cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry!”
He smiled, waving her off. “Don’t worry about it.” When she continued to look down, her face pink, he chuckled. “I’m not offended. I only ever knew one person who could read, and that was Ninian.”
Still flushed with embarrassment and biting her lip hard, she cleared her throat and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well. I just came out to say that dinner’s ready.”
Dinner.
A thiarcais.
It was nothing like he’d expected.
Rather than a few bites of dry bread and a couple apple slices, maybe supplemented by a strip of salty jerky eaten out of their hands, Boudicca put plates on the table and laid out silverware that glinted in the fading daylight. She made them sit, refusing help, and the most extraordinary smell that Áed had ever experienced anticipated the main dish. As Boudicca entered, Ronan kicked Áed excitedly under the table, but Áed was too distracted to reprimand him.
Curls of steam rose from the surface of the dish Boudicca brought, accompanied by an aroma that convinced Áed that he might eat the entire thing in one bite. Ronan could not be stopped when Boudicca served him: he scooped up a massive forkful of scalding food and shoveled it into his mouth, and his face flushed with either delight or pain.
“Mmph!” he declared. He swallowed with some difficulty, and a wisp of steam escaped from his mouth. “Hot! But good! Gods, that’s good!” And he loaded another bite.
Áed couldn’t hold back anymore either. He tried to take it more slowly than Ronan, getting a reasonable amount onto his fork, but as soon as it passed his lips, the manners Ninian had taught him vanished like the steam in the air.
It was the best thing he had ever tasted.
He barely breathed as he polished off his entire plate, swallowing just as the next bite reached his mouth and ignoring the scalding heat. In the time it took Boudicca to take four tidy bites, both Áed and Ronan polished their plates.
Áed leaned back, the food in his stomach radiating warmth like he’d swallowed a coal, and contentment spread through him. Ronan was starting on his second helping, and Áed, who’d stopped himself from licking the plate, eyed the rest of the dish before serving himself some more. Boudicca looked amazed. “I’ll have you over often,” she said softly, and Áed wasn’t sure he was meant to hear. “Nobody has ever been so appreciative of my cooking.”
Áed swallowed a bite and came up for air. “Why not?”
She laughed, a light sound. “It’s just shepherd’s pie. And it’s over-salted and a touch burnt.”
“Really?” Áed took another bite, trying to taste what she was talking about, but it was impossible to discern anything negative about the warm flavor and bliss that accompanied it. “I can’t tell.”
“Perhaps you ought to slow down.” She glanced to Ronan, who was still shoveling. “I’m afraid you’ll vomit.”
True enough, now he paused, Áed did already feel extremely full. The feeling was completely foreign, and somewhat unpleasant. He set his fork down next to the rest of his unfinished meal.
Unfinished.
There was enough food in the White City that he left his meal unfinished.
Ronan looked a bit sick as well, and he dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. “Whew!”
“Full?” Boudicca asked with a hint of smile behind her words. She’d set the dish down not more than five minutes before.
“Yes,” Áed replied. The word evidenced his amazement.
“The sun’s setting.” Boudicca considered Áed thoughtfully. “Do you have anywhere to go?” When Áed shook his head, she nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “I feel like I ought to let you stay.” She tilted her head slightly, regarding them both with eyes that were lilac in the evening light. “Would I regret it?”
Ronan looked interested by her statement. “Why would you regret it?”
“She’s asking if we would rob her, or assault her, or do some other horrible thing,” Áed explained.
“Oh.”
Áed shook his head. “Of course not.”
To his surprise, she seemed satisfied. “I’ve only one extra room.”
“That’s fine.” He laughed, a touch bitterly. “Honestly, Boudicca, I don’t understand our luck, that we came to this flat out of every other place we could have hidden. Thank you. For everything.” He smiled sheepishly. “And I am really sorry about breaking in.”
She smiled at his gratitude. “I can forgive you, I think. But I’m not going to leave the key under the mat anymore.”
CHAPTER TEN
Boudicca showed them their quarters. “This is where Cynwrig stays when he visits,” she explained, pushing open a door at the end of the hall. “Which is almost never. There are plenty of his things still in there.”
“We won’t bother anything.”
She shook her head. “Bother it all you like. He has more than enough, as he makes obvious by leaving so much with me.”
At the sight of the bed, its colorful quilt and thick mattress nestled between dark wood posts, Ronan slumped involuntarily. “Could I sleep now?”
Boudicca laughed. “Whenever you want.” The air in the room was fresh with the smell of linen, and a curtained window looked out over the empty street and the thrushing rain. It did look remarkably appealing. Boudicca shot a glance at Áed. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Exhausted. But not ready to sleep yet.”
She cocked her head in confusion.
“I’m still…” he sighed through his nose, looking at the bed with longing. “We started Ninian’s fire only a day and a night ago.”
Ronan understood and looked at the bed guiltily. “You still have a night left.”
Áed nodded, glum not only at the reminder of Ninian, which felt like an open wound, but at the fact that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in the fine bed.
“Wait,” Boudicca interjected, polite but confused. “What?”
After some surprised blinking at Boudicca’s lack of knowledge, Ronan explained. “You can’t sleep for two nights after the burial, or burning, I guess, of a love.” He glanced up at Áed reluctantly. “Should I stay up too?”
It touched his heart that Ronan was prepared to do that, but he shook his head. “You’re too young for it to count for you.”
Boudicca frowned. “I’ve never heard of that tradition.”
“Really?” Áed yawned, frustrated already at his heavy eyelids. “I th
ought everyone had.” He began ticking them off on his crumpled fingers. “One night for an acquaintance, if you went to the funeral; two for a friend or a partner; three for a parent; four for a son or a daughter.”
Ronan elbowed Áed, smiling in the way he did when he wanted a serious answer but didn’t want to show he cared. “Hey, Áed.”
“Yeah?”
“How many nights would you stay up for me?”
“Oh, Gods,” Áed muttered, taking Ronan by the shoulders and pulling him into a backward hug. “Don’t die anytime in the next fifty years, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
“But if I did…”
Áed sighed, rocking side to side and feeling Ronan move with him. “For you, ceann beag?” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, tightening his grip on Ronan until the boy squeaked. “I don’t think I’d ever sleep again.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Once Ronan was comfortably in bed, and Áed had bid him goodnight and closed the door, Áed trudged back to the table and sat down with a sigh. Boudicca rustled around lighting candles before waving out the match and joining him. “So.”
“So.” He rested his elbows on the table, propping his chin on them and looking up at where she stood.
She pressed her lips together, taking a deep breath in through her nose. “So you have to stay up all night?”
He nodded.
After a moment’s consideration, she sat down at the table as well. “You’re going to have trouble with that, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
She nodded decisively. “I’ll stay up with you.”
Áed smiled wearily, lifting his chin off his arms. “How much of that decision was made from fear that I’ll rob you while you sleep?”
“None.” She spoke too quickly, and he chuckled.
“Boudicca, you are the closest thing to a friend we have in this place.” He leaned back, stretching as the chair creaked softly. “Trust me. I won’t risk turning you against us.”
She snorted, and then realized she had snorted and laughed a pert, sparkling laugh that made Áed smile despite himself. “I hope you wouldn’t steal from me anyhow.”
He cracked a wan grin. “Being honest, it’d depend on the situation.”
Boudicca sighed and leaned back, regarding him with guarded interest. “Suibhne must seem so strange to you.”
Áed frowned. “Suibhne?” He pronounced it siv-na, as she had. It sounded like a name meant for a person. “Is that what you call this place?”
She nodded. “What do you call it?”
“The White City.”
“That does make sense.” Boudicca thought for a moment. “I’ve never met anyone from Smudge, you know. You’re a bit strange to me, too.”
“You expected something different.” He knew it was true, and didn’t bother to make it a question.
She smirked. “King Seisyll says you’re all barbarians.”
“Why does he hate us?”
“He says it’s because of the danger Smudge poses.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “Seisyll has always been… different. People say that he’s not entirely stable.” At Áed’s look of interest, she propped her elbow on the table and went on. “He was married when he was young, but it was tumultuous. He couldn’t keep his hands off of other women, if you understand my meaning. But then his wife died in childbirth, and his infant son shortly after, and the king became erratic.”
Áed mirrored her with his elbows on the table, intrigued, and Boudicca seemed fueled by his curiosity.
“He declared laws and repealed them days later, raged at his advisors, didn’t sleep. He became obsessed with control. Eventually, one of his advisors—” her face twitched in faint disdain, though Áed didn’t know why—“convinced him to put the Council of the King, which is Seisyll’s cabinet, in charge of the city’s mundanities, but that only gave Seisyll more room to fall apart. He actually—” She swallowed and looked a little uncomfortable. “He started taking outings to Smudge and coming back with stories of… well, stories of women he’d… overpowered.”
Áed’s brow crinkled with disgust. “Why?”
“Some say he’s gone quite mad.”
“He sounds terrible.”
“Mm. Dangerous to say that. But you understand that he hates Smudge. He channeled his grief into Smudge.”
“Let me get this straight.” Áed brushed his hair off his forehead. “Are you saying he went to the Maze and did those things because he was sad?”
“I suspect that it was also an excuse to satisfy his, ah, carnal tendencies, but yes. Some people react very destructively to tragedy, and the king has never possessed the strongest of minds. He wanted a way to reassert his dominance when he felt he had no control.” She shook her head sadly. “So, yes. I’m fairly confident of this.”
Áed appraised her, impressed. “You’re clever.”
She smiled. “Thank you. Although, it is my job.” She covered a yawn behind her hand. “I’m quite talented with healing, so I’ve seen a lot of warped minds.”
Perhaps the fact that she was a healer influenced her willingness to shelter Áed and Ronan. “You’re just naturally helpful, then.”
She shrugged with a little smirk. “Well. I do like getting paid for it.” She pointed toward the door with her thumb. “My neighbor, Gráinne, owns the apothecary downstairs, and I run the practice. I do it all: injuries, illness, childbirth.” The smirk widened. “I’m even quick with a bit of magic, if the situation calls for it. Mostly for young folks in love.”
“Magic?” There were a few people in the Maze, recluses, mostly, who claimed to be able to call on the power of the fae to speak with the dead or divine the future, but Áed had always stayed well away. “You don’t say.”
“Sure,” Boudicca replied. “Sometimes, the herbs aren’t enough.” She inclined her chin towards his hands. “Just out of a healer’s curiosity, what happened?”
“I’m not sure. I think they must’ve broken a long time ago, but I can’t remember the event.”
Boudicca sighed. “Terrible. I’m afraid something like that is beyond even my little witchery.”
Áed leaned back again and cast around for something else to talk about. He’d never been wholly comfortable with anything pertaining to the fae. “You have a brother, right? What’s the rest of your family like?”
She easily accepted the change of subject. “Yes, Cynwrig’s my brother. I have a stepbrother, too, whose father married my mother. I like my stepbrother well enough, but I don’t like Elisedd—that’s my stepfather—particularly well. My mother and real father both died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” Her gaze unfocused in thought for a minute. “Speaking of family, I’d rather if Cynwrig didn’t meet you. I don’t think that anything would come of it, but let’s keep your presence hidden for the time.” Áed agreed, and Boudicca’s eyes brightened. “So. The Festival of Fire starts the day after tomorrow.”
“That’s right, isn’t it?” He had entirely forgotten about the yearly celebration of spring. “What do you do to celebrate?”
“What do you do?”
He shrugged. “Set things on fire. Then people get drunk and dance, and it’s good fun.” A snippet of memory fluttered over his mind: Ninian, who didn’t drink, chatting with a ring of four girls at once as Ronan watched wistfully from the window. Áed had teased Ninian endlessly afterward—what the hell was he going to do with a girl?—and they’d eaten bannocks cooked over the fire.
“Then it’s not so different,” Boudicca said with a glinting smile. “Here, we light a massive fire, and then everyone uses a bit of it to light their home hearths. Then we eat, drink a lot, and dance.” She glanced to the window and wrinkled her nose. “Assuming this rain lets up.” Brushing her hair over her shoulder, she stood. “Would you like a drink?”
“Oh.” He wasn’t sure. He was exhausted enough to be numb without one, and
that numbness, the out-of-the-world-for-a-while feeling, was the only reason he ever drank. It seemed rude to refuse, though, so he shrugged. “Sure. Thanks.”
She stepped into the kitchen, and he heard glassware clinking. Her footsteps tapped out of the kitchen, and once she entered the candlelight, he could see she carried a dark bottle and two glasses.
Áed awkwardly accepted a glass with both hands and held it as Boudicca poured a stream of liquid into it, and then she sat and poured a glass for herself. “You can handle a drink, can’t you?
He chuckled, smelling the cup out of habit to check for the bitter tang of poison. Instead, it smelled sweet, almost fruity. “Yes.”
“Good.” She took a sip and lifted her glass, and the orange candlelight caught the smooth curve of the cup.
Áed took a sip and raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”
“Elderberry wine.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve never had wine, have you?”
“No.”
“I can tell.” She smirked at him. “You’re going to get it up your nose.” Settling back, she ran her pinkie around the edge of the glass until it sang, and then she sucked the resulting droplet of wine off her finger. The storm outside made the window frames creak with wind. “So. Might be a long night.”
“Thank you for staying up with me.”
She nodded and lifted her glass. “To Ninian.”
Áed’s throat tightened, and he raised his cup. “To Ninian.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Conversation lagged and then flowed, coming in short, sleepy bursts throughout the night, and Boudicca’s chin bobbed and then steadied as she battled sleep. For Áed, it became one long, quiet vigil as Boudicca dozed. The rumbling of thunder made the perfect accompaniment to his bleak thoughts: Tonight was about Ninian. Tonight, he relived the moments he had shared with his love, and tomorrow, he would put them away.
It became almost a dream as he moved through recollections like bright shadows, pausing to linger over some, brushing past others. Ninian screaming as Áed set a broken wrist, cursing at Áed, his sorry luck, and whichever person he’d beaten that time. He recalled a fourteen-year-old Ninian steering the four-year-old Ronan toward the rusty washbasin, talking over the younger boy’s protests at the chill of the water, promising that it wasn’t that bad, and that he could have an apple afterward. And there was Ninian at Máel Máedóc’s with Ronan, chafing under the huge shopkeeper’s stony blue gaze as he showed Ronan one of the few books in the Maze. Ninian and Áed, alone at night in their flat with nothing to hear but each other’s breathing and the sound of the sky.