by Karen Nilsen
"You don't remember anything? I mean from those two months . . ."
She shook her head. "Little bits and pieces, but they all seem like part of a vivid dream that just kept going on and on. And then there were these long periods where it felt like I was floating at the bottom of a deep lake, very peaceful and suspended in the water. It was strange. I can't describe it, really."
"So what brought you out of it?" We had reached the end of the path and now were in the knee high grass of the long pasture. Dagmar was at the top of the slope near the house, a distant, dogged figure. Shadowfoot had wandered ahead and was grazing a few yards away along the edge of woods. The wind blew across the shimmering green expanse in murmuring waves, a warm summer sweetness in the air. Safire stopped and gazed at the far peaks and gables of the east wing of the house. I wanted to drag her down in the grass with me, out of sight of the house, out of sight of everything except the sky and each other.
"Your ring brought me out of it," she said finally. "I felt it on my finger one night, touched the peridot, and remembered you and that day on the parapet." She threw her arms around me. "Let's get out of here, Merius," she said, her voice muffled against my shirt. "If only for tonight."
I rested my chin on her hair, ran my hands gently over her back. "Where do you want to go, sweetheart?"
"I don't know. An inn. Anywhere, as long as you're there."
"Some place where no one knows us and no one will think to look for us."
She grinned, her impish eyes glinting. "Some place with private chambers and good locks. And nice beds."
"If we make it to a bed." I tickled her middle, and she screeched laughter, trying to escape.
"Merius, no, stop, Merius . . ."
"Stop what? This?" I covered her mouth with mine, and we kissed clumsily, both still breathless and laughing.
Chapter Twenty-Five--Safire
Dagmar had already gone into the house by the time Merius and I reached the courtyard. Shadowfoot made a beeline for the stable, whickering at the sight of Ebner emerging from the paddock.
"Sir Merius," the horse master exclaimed. "We didn't expect you for another week . . ."
Merius let go of me briefly to shake hands with him. "How are you, Ebner?"
"We've had some fine foals since you left. Red Clover has a newborn chestnut filly, and there are several others."
"You have to see Clover's, Merius--she has a five-pointed white star between her eyes, and she's such a lovely pale chestnut," I said. "I want to call her Moon's Envy."
Ebner grinned at me. "I suppose you think you get a vote for the name, since you were at the foaling."
Merius shot me a look. "Ebner let you near his mares?"
"I was at the Rivers when Clover started," Ebner said, "and this minx here happened to be near the stall and knew what she was about. She has a lady's touch, better than any of those fool stable boys. I've rarely seen a smoother foaling."
"I didn't know you were a horse woman, Safire," Merius said.
I winked at him. "There are many secrets you've yet to discover about me."
"Good." His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, a smile just for me. He let his fingers trail over the nape of my neck as he put his arm around my shoulders, and I shivered. We would drive each other mad with teasing long before nightfall if this persisted. His voice rumbled in my ear as he asked, "So, has Silver quickened yet?"
Ebner shrugged, rubbing Shadowfoot's neck. He seemed too preoccupied with thoughts of his horses to notice Merius's close proximity to me, our exchanged looks. "Too early to tell. We bred her with the Casian's prize stallion after you left--cost a pretty copper, that one did."
"It'll be well worth it, if the king takes the foal."
"You think like your father," Ebner said.
Merius's arm stiffened against my shoulder blades. "In some things."
"Will he be returning soon?"
"He didn't say," Merius said. "Now, we're leaving in little over an hour, so Shadowfoot should have some oats soon."
"All right." Ebner took the bridle.
"Thank you."
He waved at us, already engrossed with examining Shadowfoot's hooves before he led him to the stable.
"An hour?" I said.
"Yes--will that give you enough time to pack and such?"
"Well, yes, more than enough, but I thought you would want to see Selwyn, perhaps the Rivers."
He chuckled, ran his fingers up my neck and into my hair. "Sweetheart, the only one I want to see at the moment is you. I certainly wasn't dreaming of the Rivers every night for the last four months."
He loosened the ribbon holding my curls back. His fingertips brushed my ear lobe as he cupped my jaw in his palm. Our eyes locked, and my breath caught as a tingly heat rose inside. He looked older than when he had left me, the lines deeper in his face, a new scar cutting a white mark through one eyebrow. I imagined there were other scars healing on his body, masking the deep wounds still bleeding his spirit.
He seemed to read my mind, for he said then, his voice low, "You're so lovely, balm for eyes that have seen too much ugliness in the last few months. I can hardly bear to stop looking at you, much less stop touching you. I have no idea how I left you in the first place."
"I have no idea how I let you go." I rubbed my thumb over the stubble on his cheek, then ran my hand down the length of his arm, over his wrist and palm until our fingers entwined. "Come," I said, tugging him toward the road to Orlin's cottage. "Since we can't stop looking at each other, you'll have to watch me pack."
He half smiled. "All right, but why are we going this way?"
"Because I stay with Orlin and his wife."
"Oh." The unspoken question lingered in the air.
"I don't go in the main house at all if I can help it. I figured out how to fight off the ghosts, but they stir more at night, and I'll not risk another attack."
"Ahh." He paused. "I thought perhaps it was because of Whitten."
"Your father forbade Whitten to see me again, until this mess is sorted out," I said quickly as his hand tightened around mine. His free hand dropped to his sword hilt, the knuckles already white. "Merius?"
"What?"
"Why are you holding your sword?”
"You said you don't remember exactly what happened to you, Safire, which means Whitten could have done anything to you. And even if he didn't, he still acted as my father's cat's paw. I should find him right now, talk to him."
I began to shake. "No. No, I don't think he's here."
"How do you know? You're not supposed to be seeing him."
"He's just not here, all right? It shouldn‘t require you drawing your sword just to talk to him anyway."
"Why are you protecting him?"
I turned on Merius, clenching his hand. "How dare you accuse me of that? I'll be damned before I protect that drunken fool."
"Then why don't you want me to find him, confront him? It needs to be done, Safire."
"Because the mood you’re in now, you'll get in a fight, you'll kill him, and then you'll hang, you ass. "
"I never said anything about pulling my sword on him."
"Ha--you just reached for it at the mention of his name. Don't tell me you wouldn't."
"He hurt you."
"As you said, he was only your father's cat's paw.” Perhaps if I mentioned Mordric, it would re-direct Merius’s anger from Whitten to a more distant target for the moment.
"Oh believe me, I haven't forgotten Father," Merius spat. "He's going to get his." The quiet venom in his voice, so like Mordric's, sent a chill down my spine.
"Merius, love, please . . ." Everything I said was only making it worse. My body was trembling so hard now that I had to stop, lean against Orlin's fence. I closed my eyes--all I could see on the back of my eyelids was the shadow of the gallows. Merius enfolded me in his arms, and I clung to his shirt. Our auras intertwined, his swirling like a silvery storm cloud. I braced my hands against his back and drew away what
tension I could from his heart and muscles, hoping that it would be enough to quell his rage, enough to get us away from here for tonight. His rage ran deep, a boiling sap in his veins, and it burned me inside to absorb it.
"Don't, Merius, please don't," I said finally, my voice muffled against his shirt. The tension I had just taken from him welled up and mingled with my own hot tears as I began to cry. "Just take me away from here, and we'll get the annulment. Then confront them peacefully if you must, but please don’t put yourself in harm’s way again, not if you care for me. I'm fine, now that you're here, but if something happens to you . . . I don‘t think I can take much more. We‘ve already lost so much."
"Shh, nothing's going to happen to me."
"How can you promise me that, when you're planning to fight a duel with your own father?"
"Safire, I'm not stupid--there are many forms of vengeance, and not all involve the sword or the hangman's noose."
"I don't need vengeance." My movements jerky, I wiped my face on my sleeve.
"I do."
"But why?" I demanded, my hands fisted against his chest.
"Because I should have been here to protect you, and I wasn't-"
"But . . ." I was cut off by the appearance of Orlin at the gate.
He and Merius shook hands and greeted each other warmly. I chose that moment to sneak up the stairs of the cottage and gather my favorite frocks, my sketch board and drawing things, grooming articles and small clothes, and stuff them all into a large leather pouch. At the bottom, I slipped in a sheer shift of light golden green silk for tonight. I had rescued the silk from the chamber where the Landers women spun and made it into a bride gown Merius would appreciate.
My hands still quivered from the argument with Merius, and I dropped my hairbrush twice before I managed to pack it. I had expected he would want vengeance, honor-bound as he was, had even told Mordric so, but it was still a shock to hear him speak the words himself and see him reach for his sword. I couldn't get the image of him swinging at the end of a rope or bleeding to death from a stab wound out of my mind. I had worried so long about him dying or being injured in Marenna, and when he had returned, I had thought my worries would somehow all disappear. How stupid of me. I wrapped my kohl pot in a scrap of cloth and jammed it in the pouch.
A scuffle at the door made me look up. I had expected Merius but instead there was Dagmar, her arms crossed.
"When you didn't come into the house, I watched from a window and saw you leave the courtyard to come here. You're going off with him, aren't you?"
"My place is with him."
"You're not married to him, Safire."
"According to the ancients' law, we're married. I gave him my virginity."
"The ancients were a bunch of heathens, and it's a scandal, what you're doing. You're married to Whitten."
"Not by my will. I never consented to that mockery, and it makes me ill to think of it." I flung the pouch over my shoulder and glared at her.
"Consent or not, you have an obligation until the annulment's final . . ."
"I have an obligation to Merius." I brushed past her and started down the steps.
"What about our parents' memory? What about me? Don't you have an obligation to us?" She hurried after me. "You disgrace the family name with adultery . . ."
I turned, and she backed up a step. "You expect me to stay true to a drunkard who took me in a stupor so you won't be disgraced? How dare you use Father and Mother to shame me?"
She swallowed, her face gray in the shadowed stairwell. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to make a mistake. You've always been so impetuous, my little sister, and I've had to watch out for you. We're the only two left since Father passed, and . . . and you're safe here." Her eyes gleamed, a tear swelling and running down her cheek. "Don't leave, Safire."
I caught her in a one-armed hug. "We'll be back. And whatever happens, Merius could never be a mistake."
"Safire, he seems . . ."
"Seems what?" I offered her a spare handkerchief from my bag as she choked back tears.
"He seems," she blew her nose. "He seems wild. Carrying swords and daggers everywhere."
"Selwyn carries his sword."
"Not in the house. Besides, there's something different about how Merius carries his."
Like he might actually use it? Somehow, I couldn't imagine Selwyn whipping out his blade, but I kept my evil tongue to myself. "He's in the king's guard, Dagmar. He has to carry weapons at all times."
"Likely excuse," she sniffed. "He strikes me as just plain dangerous."
I grinned. "That's how I like him."
"Like his father, not someone you'd want to cross."
"Good thing he's on my side then," I said airily. "Good bye, Dagmar."
"Wait . . ." She pounded down the steps after me as I ducked into the sitting room and retrieved my orchid from the window sill. I nodded to Maud, who was knitting in the corner. She stared at me, having likely heard the entire conversation on the stairs. Then, slowly, she inclined her head in return.
"Thank you for your hospitality," I said. "Farewell."
She cleared her throat. "Farewell, my lady."
I laughed like a child and raced from the room and down the front steps into Merius's arms. He drew me close, still talking to Orlin. Dagmar followed, stopping on the threshold when she saw Merius.
"Are you ready, sweet?" Merius asked me then.
I grinned at Merius, at Dagmar, at Orlin, who watched us with narrow eyes and then nodded, as if he just made some satisfactory connection in his mind.
"I'm ready."
"Perfect. Orlin, good day to you."
"Good day, sir."
Merius took my bag, smiling when he noticed the orchid. Hand in hand, we began to walk down the road, back to the stable. "Take care of her," Dagmar called, still standing on Orlin's threshold.
Merius half turned for an instant. "I will. Always."
"We'll take care of each other. Good bye, sister," I yelled.
"Good bye. Come back soon."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When we reached the shore road, Merius steered Shadowfoot to the right, away from Calcors. "There's an inn this way, near Syrene," he said. Syrene was a village about three leagues down the coast. "Is that all right with you?"
"I told you my main requirement--as long as you're there, I don't care about anything else." I leaned my head back, and we kissed. He had his right arm around me, his body warm and solid against my back. Butterflies rose inside, tickling my rib cage with madly fluttering wings as he coaxed my lips apart.
Shadowfoot stopped and began grazing along the side of the road before Merius noticed his left hand had slackened on the reins. "We'll never get there at this rate," he muttered, his mouth still inches from mine as he urged Shadowfoot forward. The horse took off at a brisk canter.
I giggled, ran my fingers through his hair and drew him down for another kiss. "We have months to make up for, love."
"I'll not argue with that."
Miles of sea cliffs and ocean drifted past, barely registered by either of us. If we passed another traveler, I couldn't have said. If the sun sank to the horizon, I didn't notice. Shadowfoot trotted patiently onward, the motion of his back rocking us closer to each other. I couldn't hold a thought beyond the warm circle of Merius's arms, the tingling scratch of his stubble against my cheek, the fresh scent of soap he'd washed with earlier and the stronger male smell of sweat and leather and pipe smoke under that, his kisses and whispers. The poet in him wooed me until I forgot all else except the night before us.
When we turned to the right, down a road away from the shore and toward the twinkling lights of a large house, I came out of my rose-colored haze long enough to say with lazy surprise, "It's dusk."
He rested his chin on the crown of my head. "Yes, my love?"
"Are we here? Is this the inn you mentioned?"
"I don't know, but it's an inn."
"Good."
He dismount
ed and helped me down from Shadowfoot, the strong grip of his hands on my sides taking my breath away. Every time he touched me was a seduction, and I waited impatiently while he unbuckled our bags from the saddle and gave the inn stable hand some instructions and a coin for his trouble.
We left the stable and approached the front doorway. Merius braced his hand on my back, a protective gesture as we entered the inn and the rollicking common room. Blue smoke wafted everywhere. A gap-toothed, hiccupping sailor bellowed shanties in the corner while his mates shouted and banged their mugs, while in another corner, there was a tense crowd gathered around a dice game as bar maids wove their way around tables and benches with trays balanced on their heads.
I laughed and leaned against Merius, so overjoyed that my body could hardly contain it. "What is it?" he asked.
"I'm just so happy."
"Me too."
A tall grizzled man in a red tunic approached us through the smoke. "I'm the innkeeper," he said. "Warren's the name. Chamber?"
Merius nodded, reaching into his pocket. "How much for your best?"
"Two silvers. Do you want any supper?" Warren asked as he took the coin.
Merius and I exchanged a look, and he grinned before he glanced back at the innkeeper. "Maybe later. How late is the common room open?"
"Till ten, sir." Warren gestured to a barmaid. "I'm showing them to their chamber," he told her.
"Yes, sir."
We followed him up a steep staircase, well-lit with mirrored wall sconces. He took a candle from one before he entered a long passageway. We'd almost reached the end when he stopped beside the last door to the right. Keys clinking, he unlocked the door and flung it open. "Here you are," he said. "Do you need a fire?"
"No," Merius said.
Warren touched the flame of his candle to the taper on the bedside table. The chamber slowly came into focus--tidy, with planking painted a light green on the walls and a large oak bed with wine-colored curtains. I tested the bed, sinking into the full feather tick.