“It would tear the country apart, something we can’t risk right now.” Renna shook her head, glancing at the darkening canyon around them. “The citizens of Stetterly wouldn’t react much better.”
“I’m sorry.” If only there was more he could say. But his past had consequences. Perhaps he and Renna would always live in its shadow.
“No, it’s fine. I realized the same thing a while ago.” Renna straightened her shoulders.
He leaned and kissed her forehead. “Besides, you’re already a great lady of Stetterly.”
She smiled, but it faded after a moment. “Where does that leave you? If you’re not the lord of Stetterly, what will you be?”
“Steward maybe? Captain of the guard? Not sure yet.” What place was there at Stetterly for a former Blade? Would he be content to farm a section of land? Or drill guards over and over again, day in and day out?
“Won’t that get awkward once we’re married? You’d be my husband and the head of the home, but also my employee and following my orders?”
“We’ll work something out.” He had to trust that. Surely God would show him where he was supposed to be now. God hadn’t taken him out of the Blades and kept him alive through a war that should’ve killed him without a purpose for him. “What about your duties as healer?”
Renna bit her lip. “Michelle Allen asked me to train her, but I haven’t decided if I will or not. She’s…not the first person I would’ve picked.”
Leith didn’t know her that well, not besides the few minutes on a stormy night that had led to him being wounded. “Has anyone else volunteered?”
“No. And from what I gathered, Michelle did a good job of stepping into the role when Respen’s army attacked Stetterly.” Renna shifted and stared at the pebbles below their boots. “I’m not even sure if I should be the one to train anyone. I was still training with Aunt Mara myself. I don’t know a lot of what she would’ve taught an official apprentice.”
Not to mention, with her duties as lady of Stetterly, Renna didn’t have time to devote to healing or training or anything. Leith barely saw her some days as it was.
But maybe, some of those problems could be solved. “With Sheriff Allen’s permission, Michelle might be willing to travel to Walden and train with their healer.”
Renna gasped and hugged Leith so tightly his ribs ached. “That’s…that’s brilliant. Lord and Lady Alistair would be more than willing to look after her, and Lydia would do her best to be a friend. I think it would do Michelle good to be away from Stetterly for a while.”
With her lips pursed and her eyes shining, Leith leaned closer, tucking her against him. He’d asked her to marry him, and she’d said yes. Surely that deserved one kiss to…
“Renna? Leith?” Brandi hollered from farther up the path. “Did you guys get lost or something?”
Renna sighed and pulled away from Leith. “Trust Brandi to interrupt.”
Leith gripped Renna’s hand and set out once again up the path. He had a feeling he was going to regret promising Brandi a loft in their cabin.
When they reached the ruins of Stetterly, Sheriff Allen was sitting on a log in front of the lean-to where Renna and Brandi slept, his sword on his lap, a polishing cloth in his hand.
Leith ignored his glare. Might as well go through the whole process—stern guardian waiting up with a polished sword and all. He squeezed Renna’s hands and resisted the urge to kiss her. “Goodnight.”
She kissed his cheek, then brushed the blanket aside and entered.
Sheriff Allen scrubbed the polishing cloth rather slowly and emphatically along his sword’s blade. Leith took the hint, spun on his heels, and headed toward his own lean-to. As he crawled inside, Jamie and Ranson both quieted and stilled.
Not a good sign. Leith raised his eyebrows. “What?”
Ranson shifted and glanced at Jamie. Jamie gripped his knees, rocked back and forth, and faced Leith. “What will happen to us? When you and Renna get married?”
Leith released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He should’ve expected this question. He glanced between Jamie and Ranson. “You two are my brothers. Just like I understand that Brandi comes with Renna, Renna understands you two come with me.”
At least, that’s what he hoped. He’d have to have that conversation with Renna first thing in the morning.
Jamie’s shoulders relaxed, and a smile tilted Ranson’s mouth.
“Of course, that does mean I’m going to need both of you to help build a really big cabin this spring since it’ll have to fit all of us.” Leith grinned.
Jamie grinned back. “Brothers, huh?”
“Yes, brothers.” Leith lightly back-handed Jamie’s shoulder. “And as the bossy older brother, I’m telling both of you to go to bed.”
Ranson and Jamie both gave the expected groans and flopped onto their blankets.
18
Martyn lay on his stomach on a rock outcropping in the shade of a spreading juniper. Below, the town of Kilm tucked into the foothills, the roads leading up to it curving up and over the first few ridges. Hawkpine Creek meandered down the hills behind the manor, paralleled the road for a while, before disappearing south into the prairie.
As far as towns went, Kilm wasn’t much. Only a dirt track that dead-ended into the cliff side with a row of houses and shops. Kilm Manor rose off to one side, as if it wasn’t sure it wanted to be associated with the small town.
And so blasted peaceful.
Four days ago, after coming across a set of fresh tracks, he’d grabbed supplies, let Kayleigh know he’d be gone for a few days or weeks, and set out after them.
Only to lose the tracks to rain and sleet that had only just let up. He’d gone on to Kilm as a hunch, but after a day and a half, even this was wasted time. Nothing unusual. No suspicious tracks around town, not that there would be any after all that rain. Not even soldiers training in the far fields. Only a few guards making their rounds, and there were less of them than Martyn might have expected, but that was probably due to losses in the war.
Movement by the manor caught Martyn’s gaze. Two figures stepped from the manor. One turned and held out his hand. Two smaller figures dashed outside.
Martyn heaved a sigh. Just Lord Norton, his wife, and their two young children getting a breath of fresh air after the rain and sleet. With more dark clouds piling in the west, it might be the last somewhat sunny moment for a while.
And Martyn’s opportunity for more snooping.
King Keevan wouldn’t approve of his methods. There probably was a law against rifling through someone’s house without permission, but Martyn had to find something to make this miserable trip worth it. Soon, the snow would come, and Martyn would have to wait until spring to go back to scouting.
He crept back from his position and circled into the foothills until he came out behind Kilm Manor. Not even a guard back here.
Too insultingly easy. Within minutes, Martyn slipped inside the manor, strolled down the hallway, and entered Lord Norton’s study. Not much had changed since he’d been brought here once before when carrying orders from King Respen to Lord Norton. Same set of bookshelves in the corner. Same dark blue rugs. Same, dark cherry desk with spindly legs more ornate than sturdy.
A doll lay in the middle of the floor. Abandoned, perhaps, when Lord Norton’s daughter convinced him to leave his study to go for a walk? Martyn avoided it and approached the desk.
Three stacks of papers lined up on the desk, pen and ink stiffly lined up at a corner. Martyn flipped through each stack, careful to tap the papers back into place once he was finished. Crop reports. Lists of those killed and injured during the war. Goods traded with other towns.
Nothing out of place. Nothing to indicate Lord Norton was harboring Blades or Rovers or doing anything else even mildly illegal.
It didn’t sit right in the pit of his stomach. The Blades should be here. If they had at all stuck to their training as Blades, they should’ve returned by now,
and they should’ve come here.
Was it possible the five Blades had truly left? Ridden off into the far west or north in the open, wild country? Maybe they were never coming back.
Martyn shook his head and checked over the desk, straightening one stack until it lined up as neatly as it had been. It didn’t seem possible. Former Blade Offen had been a Rover before joining the Blades. He didn’t know anything besides fighting and killing. Crossley and Tooley had always followed orders without question. Uldiney did whatever the older Blades told him. And Daas…Daas enjoyed seeing others suffer. Would any of them know how to ride away, even given the chance?
Martyn didn’t know how, and he had Leith, Renna, and Shad pushing him in that direction. Kayleigh too, though she didn’t know it.
The Blades might be taking their time about it—far longer than Martyn expected—but they would return.
Leaving the study, Martyn found what looked like a spare bedroom and squeezed under the bed until nightfall. Once the manor quieted for the night, he searched the place top to bottom. No sign of Blades. No extra weapons stashed in a storeroom. No one besides the servants, a few guards, Lord Norton and his wife, their son, and their daughter, her reclaimed doll clutched to her stomach as she slept.
Martyn would watch for a few more days to be sure, but as far as he could tell, the only one breaking the law at Kilm Manor was him.
Martyn tugged his hood farther over his head and tightened his cloak around his neck. Annoying rain and sleet. He gave vent to a few more curses, but the sleet didn’t seem to care how much he swore or complained. It didn’t stop.
At least he was almost back to his dry cabin, hot meals, and Kayleigh.
Why was he thinking about her? All he wanted was the hot meal, which she provided. And the dry cabin, which she would happen to be in when he got that hot meal.
It wasn’t like he’d even thought about her while he’d been gone. Not to wonder if she was all right or if she’d caught enough meat or if she’d reinjured her mostly healed leg. Of course not.
Besides, he couldn’t be blamed if his stomach was hoping she’d been more successful at snaring food than he had been at finding Blades.
He crested the ridge and let Wanderer trot down the slope. Smoke wisped from the chimney and dissipated against the grey dome of clouds. The sleet muted the yellow leaves of the aspen and birch surrounding the cabin.
Martyn unsaddled Wanderer and turned him into the paddock. Strolling onto the porch, he stomped his feet to shake off clods of mud. Water squished between his toes from his boots’ sodden leather.
After pushing open the door, Martyn stepped inside. A layer of warmth flushed against his cheeks and tingled into his hands. The fire at the far end of the room leapt and crackled as the open door changed the airflow in the room.
Kayleigh bowed her head over a book at the table in the kitchen, wearing the light green dress, its skirt now spattered with faint, brown stains she’d been unable to get out.
Martyn grimaced and swallowed back a curse. He’d forgotten what day it was. She was doing her whole praying, reading, worship church time.
As Martyn tromped across the room, Kayleigh looked up. “You’re back. How’d it go?”
“The…annoying rain washed out all the tracks.” Martyn strode to the fireplace and inspected the meat sizzling in a frying pan over the coals. Looked like rabbit, possibly, with a few thin slices of squirrel. Not that a person got much out of a squirrel besides a few mouthfuls of meat. “At least you fared better than I did.”
“Much better. I caught an elk in one of the tree falls. I managed to drag it back here with the pack mule, but I’ll need help with butchering and smoking.”
An elk. Enough meat to provision them for several weeks. Grabbing a plate, Martyn speared several pieces of squirrel and rabbit meat with his knife and returned to the table.
Kayleigh hadn’t moved, her Bible still before her on the table.
Martyn sighed as he dropped onto the bench across from her. “Why do you persist in your faith like that? It hasn’t gotten you anything. It’s not like the people in Flayin Falls are going to let you join back in due to a private show of piety.”
Kayleigh fingered the ends of her shoulder-length, brown hair. “My faith is dependent on what God did, not on what people do. Not even on what I do.”
Martyn dragged a hand through his hair. By all logic, her faith should be as imaginary as her imaginary God. So why did she keep insisting it wasn’t? “Up until recently, I never met a Christian who actually lived like one. Most are self-righteous hypocrites.”
He’d known when Renna didn’t agree with his actions, yet she’d still been kind to him—annoyingly, disgustingly kind. It would’ve been easier all the way around if she’d either been a kindly pushover who’d condemned nothing or a shrew who had done all condemning without any kindness.
Kayleigh ran her fingers along the pages of the Bible she’d yet to close. “That’s the struggle of being a Christian. We are called to walk the narrow path that balances condemning sin yet showing kindness. Often, we wander onto one side or the other.”
“From what I’ve seen, people are rather happy to wander.”
“Yes, they are.” Kayleigh bowed her head and blinked.
If she started crying, Martyn was out of there. It wasn’t fair to bring out tears in a discussion.
He cleared his throat. Time to tweak the subject a bit. “If it’s so important for you to worship and stuff, why haven’t you moved? Whatever you did is only known in Flayin Falls. You could always escape it in some other town.”
Someday he was going to have to get her to admit what was so horrible that supposedly good people would be so quick to grab their swords when she was around.
“It’s something I’ve thought about. I probably should do it, but…” Kayleigh glanced around the cabin until her gaze settled on the door to what had once been her father’s room. “Things weren’t so bad until a few months ago when Father died. And after that, I kept hoping I could prove myself and things would change. When I returned from the war and things only got worse, I realized I might have to move eventually. But it’s hard to leave here. This cabin is all I have left of my father. I’m not sure I can leave it behind.”
If only Martyn’s parents had possessed a smidgen of her loyalty. She couldn’t even leave the cabin her father built behind. His parents had been all right with abandoning their child.
“I’m sure this won’t be for forever.” Kayleigh traced the edge of her Bible again, her head bowed as if she couldn’t face him. “Do you think I’m a hypocritical Christian?”
That was a question Martyn did not want to answer.
What did he think about her? She was kind. Not like Renna’s ultra-sweet version of kindness. Kayleigh’s kindness was harder. She hadn’t thrown him out, after all, when he’d stomped all over propriety. She hadn’t stopped talking to him the moment she’d learned he wasn’t a Christian, though she was more than ready to match him argument for argument in their discussions. Thing was, Martyn liked matching wits and logic with her.
He’d rather have his tongue cut out than admit any of that to her. Swear words piled into his mouth, but he bit them back. Dragging a hand through his hair, he cleared his throat. “No, I don’t.”
Her shoulders relaxed, as if she cared about his answer. Had Kayleigh started caring about him? He couldn’t let any sort of caring happen, even mild friendship. It would only make it worse for her.
Worse for her? Martyn suppressed a groan. That almost sounded like he cared, even a speck, for her. Bother and…and all the words he no longer could say out loud in front of her. He curled his fingers into fists. Perhaps he should make a dash for the door to spout the words outside?
Kayleigh fanned the pages of her Bible. “I want to make a deal with you, but I’m not sure what you’ll want in return.”
By the way she was toying with her Bible, he probably didn’t want to take the deal, not with the way
he tended to lose these deals around her. “Spit it out.”
“I think you will be unable to read the whole Bible before the winter is over.” For the first time in the past few minutes, she raised her head and met his gaze.
“And if I lose?” He had to force himself not to look away.
“Failing to read and understand would be enough of a loss in itself.” A slight smile touched Kayleigh’s face. “But if you lose, you have to clean out the whole horse shed by yourself.”
Did he want to take that challenge? Martyn ground his teeth. He had attempted to read the Bible months ago, back when Leith had given it to him, but he’d given up. The only thing it’d stirred in him was memories of his parents.
What did he have to lose besides a little hard work and time? He cocked his head. “What would I have to gain if I won?”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “That’s what I don’t know. I’m afraid of what you’ll ask.”
This was his opening to ask why the townsfolk hated her so much. Except that she hadn’t asked after his past. Annoying as it was, she believed she was pushing him into something good for him. He should answer this challenge in kind.
But what did he believe would be genuinely good for her?
Thinking about it meant caring about her. Worrying about her.
He should leave. Get out of her life before he caused damage. But he couldn’t. Not when the townsfolk of Flayin Falls made it so difficult for her to get supplies. Not when winter was closing in, and she’d need those supplies to survive.
No, that wasn’t why he was staying. He wanted a hot meal, and this was a convenient spot to get it. Nothing more.
Deliver (The Blades of Acktar Book 4) Page 17