“Bless you,” she murmured back in relief.
Chantel must have overheard or somehow noticed the exchange as she paused and asked, “Jewel, how are you with stairs?”
“Just fine after I’ve memorized them.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “But then, I’m fine with any place after I’ve memorized it.”
“Hmmm. In that case, tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll take you on a thorough tour of the house and grounds.”
Frivolous and air-headed she might be, but Chantel obviously had a wide streak of pure kindness in her somewhere. Jewel practically beamed. “After a hot bath, I’m all yours. We do need to go to a Temple of Learning soon, though. I haven’t been able to ask formal permission to work here from Broeske yet.”
“It’s a plan. Now, as for stairs…”
Chizeld guided her gently to them, his calm voice directing her up the first few steps. Once she had the feel for their height and width, Jewel started to go up them more confidently. She did feel a little out of balance when she abruptly ran out of them, however. So, thirty-two steps up which led…where?
“Miss Chantel, the rooms are prepared,” Piers said from Jewel’s right. He didn’t sound at all out of breath, so he must indeed be used to these sorts of surprises.
“Excellent. Then, show them the way.”
“Piers, if there be a room that connects to another, Jewel and I will be taking that one,” Rialt directed in a tone that brooked no disagreement.
“My apologies, sir, but none of the rooms connect.”
“Then never mind a separate space for me. Just put a cot at the end of her bed.”
An awkward silence fell. Rialt, no doubt, felt that his request would be easily understood by his hosts. But Jewel had been in manor homes before, and armsmen simply did not share living space with their masters. Jewel stepped in before anyone could leap to misunderstandings.
“Chantel, there is a great deal we need to tell you, but for now can you simply heed Rialt’s request? It’s a matter of my safety, you see.”
“But you’ll be safe here,” she protested, bewildered.
“Lass, I counted fifteen ways to sneak into the place just on the walk in,” Rialt informed her in his usual blunt manner. “No offense to my hosts, but I will sleep better knowing she be within arm’s reach of me.”
“…did something happen?” Chantel queried slowly.
“Yes,” Sarvell said. “Yes, something did happen. We’ll tell you the full story later, as you’ll need to know so you can take precautions.”
“Alright.” Chantel still sounded hesitant, as if she wanted to demand answers now. “Well, we’ll have a better talk after everyone’s settled. Piers, please arrange for a bed to be put into the priestess’s room.”
“Thank you, Chantel.” Jewel gave a nod of the head in her general direction.
A small, feminine hand patted her lightly on the shoulder. “I do want that explanation. But I’ll come up again after you’ve had your hot soak.”
Chapter Twenty
She spent much too long in the bath, but the combination of sweetly-scented soap and hot water all to herself proved to be too much of a temptation to give up easily. Jewel managed to drag herself out only after Rialt, Sarvell, and Chizeld had gently knocked on the door and inquired dryly if she’d fallen asleep in there.
Once out of the tub, she wandered into the connecting bedroom to find that someone had laid out a dress for her on the edge of the bed. It had a velveteen softness to it and yet she didn’t think it actually was velvet. It lacked the heaviness of true velvet. She slipped it on and found the fit to be tolerably close. It flowed around her ankles and she twirled a bit, enjoying the feel of it. Wherever had it come from? The ever-reliable Piers?
A solid knock on the door, then, “Jewel, are you out?”
“Yes, come in!” Jewel called back.
Chantel didn’t waste a moment accepting the invitation and immediately opened the door. “I brought a brush and some pins with me. Can I do your hair? We’ll take a tour once you’re presentable.”
Rialt normally did it, or Jewel would just throw it up in a simple bun, but she didn’t mind the change in hairdresser. “Yes, certainly.”
“Oh good. Just sit down here,” Chantel’s hand on her upper arm guided her around to a low vanity bench near the end of the bed, “and I can have a good angle to work from.”
Jewel took a seat and kept her back straight, trying to stay still while her damp hair was carefully combed through.
Chantel gave a rich, slightly envious sigh. “You have such gorgeous hair. It’s so silky and thick. It’s not rebellious, like mine.”
Jewel sat still under the rhythmic stroking of the brush and fought the urge to purr. “Why are women never satisfied with their own hair?”
“It’s because we want our hair to reflect our mood and it rarely does.”
Jewel blinked at that perfectly rational explanation. “You know, you might have a point…”
“Do you normally braid it?”
“I normally let it hang straight or pull it up in a simple bun. Rialt braids it.”
There was a weighty pause. “I would not have pegged him as a dexterous man.”
“Few do. But Rialt’s true ability is surprising people. Even now I’m learning about his unexpected talents.”
Chantel gave a noncommittal hum. “I overheard that Rialt bargained so you would be the High Priestess of Ramath. Do you want to leave Thornock?”
“I’m actually looking forward to living in Ramath.”
Nuance was an amazing thing. It turned Chantel’s inarticulate “Uhhhh…” into a noise of confusion. But then, not many people chose to live in slightly backwards, rough, dangerous Ramath.
“The people are boisterous and have no concept of personal space,” Jewel stated frankly. “Being with them can be very overwhelming. But at the same time, I’ve never felt more at home or more welcome.”
“Does he know this?”
“Oh yes.”
“So it wasn’t just because he wants to return home? Not just selfishness on his part?”
“Chantel, the man left home in the middle of the night to rescue a complete stranger and did it all without a word of complaint. Does he sound like a selfish man?”
“Not when you put it that way, no.”
“Besides, did you know that Sarvell also wanted me to live in Bryn?”
“Oh-ho!” Chantel gave a giggle of girlish delight. “If I were you, I’d choose the handsome blond. He’s a better catch.”
Jewel’s brows furrowed together. Catch? “What?”
Chantel leaned in closer to ask in a confidential tone, “So which one do you fancy? Or is it Chizeld?”
“F-fancy?” Jewel spluttered.
“Oh come on, you can’t say that it’s a pure relationship with those three delectable specimens. You’ve been on the road for weeks with those three and only a dog as a chaperone. It’s straight out of a torrid romance, I tell you!”
Jewel, after a startled moment, re-evaluated her situation through an outsider’s perspective. When it clicked, she let out a long groan.
“Don’t tell me that you just now realized it!”
“But it hasn’t been like that!” she practically wailed.
“What, don’t you have any blood in you?”
“This trip hasn’t exactly been a walk through the park,” Jewel retorted. “And it’s a little hard to feel romantic when you’re sleeping on the ground and washing out of a stream.”
“…good point.” A few moments passed in silence as Chantel continued to gently tug and pin her hair. “Well. I’m done and you look amazing. How about that tour?”
~*~*~*~
Dinner that night proved to be instructive, in more ways than one. Jewel couldn’t decide if Moltabon was a shrewd or pleasant host. He seemed to oscillate between being genial and asking pointed questions. Since no one in her party had anything to hide they all answered bluntly and hones
tly.
Jewel could hear her host’s substantial girth as it shifted uneasily on some of their answers, especially when Rialt reported in his usual no-nonsense way about the Daath assassins. The mayor was not as comfortable with his daughter’s new position as Chantel had said. Jewel didn’t need eyes to see that.
When dinner was over they all made plans to start out early the next morning to go look for the crystal before retiring to their own rooms. Well, Rialt of course retreated to hers and the bed that had been shoved along one wall.
After the very hectic day and the events of the past several weeks, Jewel had thought she’d drop asleep easily once she snuggled into the delightfully comfortable bed. Alas, such was not the case. The mantel clock in her room had quietly chimed the hour and half hour and still she could not turn her mind toward sleep.
She tried turning onto her side, seeking a different position, only to be foiled in the attempt by Bortonor’s bulk caging her in. Shoving at his side had no effect whatsoever. The dog was soundly asleep. Why exactly had Elahandra given her a dog bigger than she was? She couldn’t even shift him over!
“Lass, will you settle?” Rialt rumbled, tone exasperated.
“I’m trying to,” she responded rather crossly. “I’m sharing space with a bed hog.”
“Well, shove him aside.”
“I can’t. He’s too heavy,” she groused.
“Blow in his ears,” was the next helpful suggestion.
“Blow in his—” she spluttered, almost laughing. “Why? Will that wake him up?”
“It will make him flinch. Go on, try it.”
Feeling a little silly, she ran her hand around his head until she found an ear and then blew a puff of air into it. Like magic, Bortonor jerked slightly, rolling halfway up. She pressed against him, rolling him even further so that he flopped over onto his other side. He settled again with a groan and a long sigh.
“See?” Rialt said smugly.
She knew good and well that he was speaking from experience. “You had a dog that you did this with.”
“Eh, that I did. Although with her, it was to get her off my pillow. She was forever stealing it.”
Jewel could imagine a young Rialt arguing with a dog his own size, trying to reclaim his stolen pillow. The idea tickled her funny bone and she smiled at the thought, shaking her head. Settling back down, she tried to sleep. The effort was in vain as her mind continued to race, jumping from one thought to another.
“What now?”
So, he was watching her to make sure she was asleep? Jewel let out a long sigh, reaching over absently to tangle her hands in Bortonor’s fur. “I guess I’m worried about Chantel. She and her father really have no idea what they’ve gotten themselves into. I could tell they were very worried about the Daath. It’s different with her than with the other two. One of them is in fortified Belthain. The other is a huntress and very capable of taking care of herself, even without the armsmen heading her way. But what about Chantel?”
“I imagine her father will gather armsmen up quick-like.”
True. Perhaps Jewel shouldn’t be worrying about this after all.
“Jewel, of all the people you should worry about, the little miss be no one of them. She has more help at her beck and call than any other. She will be fine.”
He had a point. Several of them, in fact. And yet…something still bothered her.
Rialt clearly realized he hadn’t convinced her, as he let out a groan. The sound of fabric abruptly moving, and the slight squeak of the bedsprings told her that he had left his bed. Confused at his movements, she sat up too, twisting about so that her legs were tucked together off to one side.
The empty space beside her dipped abruptly as Rialt sat next to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders in a comforting hold. “Worrying be no good for a man’s soul. It only erodes the spirit and saps your strength.”
“You’re right.” She leaned into the embrace and put her head on his shoulder. “How do you deal with things like this?”
“I sort it out in my mind into things I can control and things I can no. There be a long list with the latter,” he added with a soft chuckle. “But I think with you, it be just habit by now. If a man worries long enough, he forgets to relax.”
Jewel wasn’t completely sold on this notion, but he might have a point. “It’s a little hard to relax at the moment.”
“Hmm, I will grant you that. Let us try a trick of my father’s, eh?” Without waiting for her response, he shifted his arm from her shoulders and picked up one of her hands. With both thumbs, he started smoothing and massaging her palm and wrist.
“Oh.” An unknowing smile of pleasure flitted around the corners of her mouth. She hadn’t realized just how tired her hands were until he started doing that. “Your father does this?” she asked dreamily.
“Eh, for my mother, after she has been baking all day. Kneading the dough puts her hands into a moiled snarl, it does.”
What a terribly lucky woman. She relaxed into the soothing motion, enjoying the rough heat emanating from his hands. “Remind me to thank him later for teaching you this.”
He snorted. “Like I would remember such a thing. Alright, other hand.”
Her right hand felt a little lonely when he picked up her left and started working on it.
“I heard a snatch in passing,” he mentioned idly. “What was that about, earlier? Chantel said something about choosing between us three.”
“Oh, that?” As flabbergasted as she had been at the time, Jewel found it funny now. “I think she assumed that I’d fallen for one of you.”
“Ho, and what did you tell her?”
“That it’s a little hard to be romantically minded while camping out doors and washing in streams,” she responded dryly.
“Eh, there be truth.” His hands left hers, rising so that he started to gently rub her temples in small circles. “Well, if you do decide to fancy one of us, I be the best candidate.”
Ah…he is teasing me…right? She couldn’t quite tell from his tone. “And why is that?”
“My amazing massage skills, of course. You think the other two can do this?”
She nearly choked on a laugh. Alright, he was teasing. “You make an excellent point. I shall remember that the next time Chantel tries to weasel anything out of me.”
His hands lightly traced down the side of her face and settled on the base of her neck before resuming that gentle, circular massage. “Your eyes are drooping. Ready for sleep now?”
She mimicked his accent. “Eh, that I be.”
He gave a soft, breathless laugh at her teasing. “Then I’m away to my bed. Sleep tight.”
“You too.”
~*~*~*~
Rialt listened intently to Jewel’s breathing. He did no need to look to tell when she finally slipped into sleep. She had her own rhythm to breathing while asleep, one unlike any he had ever heard tale of. It was like she hummed, as the tones of it rose and fell in a musical pattern. It was, by and large, one of the cuter things she did while sleeping. He did no think she was aware of it—she always tried to fool him by breathing deep and even, after all.
With her truly asleep, he shifted about in his bed just enough to watch her. She lay on her side, hair in a loose braid over her shoulder, the dog using her hip as his pillow. Not a trace of worry on her face, just the peaceful expression of a woman in dreamland.
Two months ago when he had fetched her out of Belthain Castle, he had gone for selfish reasons. He had stayed beside her because someone needed to, and he did no trust another to do the job right. Later, he had sworn himself to her because he was fond of the lass and honest enough with himself to admit that he would never be satisfied with someone else protecting her.
Now, the question stood thus: just when had that honest affection and pure desire to protect turned into this constant need to touch?
When he had suggested choosing him, she had laughed as if she thought the words were in jest. They half
were. But no in full. He had wanted to know the answer to that question. He just did no know what to do with the answer afterwards. Could a man even have a relationship with a priestess? It was a matter he had never thought to ask about afore.
If there were a rule against it, he and Elahandra would be bargaining again, make no mistake. Exasperated with himself, he flopped back onto his back and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Oh, this was a fine tangle, it was. Just how had he managed to tie himself to her in every way but the one he really wanted?
Ya eijit, he thought to himself in resignation, when did you become so love-daft for the girl?
Chapter Twenty-one
The next morning everyone assembled at the stables after a very large and satisfying breakfast. Someone—probably Piers—had seen to it that all of the horses were saddled and ready by the time the group came outside. All that was left was the formal visit to the Temple of Elahandra.
Chizeld didn’t look forward to this next step. In order to truly begin working, a visit to the Temple of Elahandra in Rounsefell was in order. The party had put it off, choosing instead to scout out the area around the temple and see if it was being watched. In a word: yes.
But these weren’t just a few bounty hunters and watchers on Thornock’s payroll. Apparently someone in Belthain had sat down and really thought things through, realizing that Jewel would have to go to the temple or the Center in Rounsefell. So the men dispatched there were high-ranking ministers’ aides. Aside from recognizing some of the men so patiently waiting inside the temple’s foyer, Chizeld easily recognized the insignia embroidered on the right breast of the men’s coats. The Minister of Defense and the Minister of Foreign Affairs had sent men here.
This…would be troublesome.
Everyone knew what awaited at the temple, and the surrounding tension was heavy. Every person was braced for a confrontation that, though inevitable, no one looked forward to. Chizeld led the way but kept sneaking peeks over one shoulder. Rialt had refused to let Jewel ride alone, so Priestess was instead tucked in front with a very protective arm around the waist. The Ramathan kept reaching up and fingering the handle of the axe jutting out above right shoulder, as if tempted to draw it now. Chizeld could almost feel sorry for any man that tried to get near Jewel with Rialt in that mood. Sarvell rode closer than normal as well, eyes darting about in obvious suspicion, with one hand openly riding on the sword hilt. Even Bortonor had picked up the mood, trotting along at Jewel’s side, manner more alert and cautious than normal.
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