“I don't sense any danger, do you?”
My gaze darted around again, searching the intimidating forest lining both sides of the dirt road. Instinct warned me we were being watched, but it didn't screech of danger. “Not yet, anyway. It's just that we've left the inn behind.”
“Afraid of sleeping on hard ground?”
“Listen, old man,” I grumbled, “how often did you sleep under the night sky in your travels gathering information for my mother?”
“More often than you'd think these old bones could manage.” He grinned. “Unlike you, I haven't spent my entire life coddled by Lady Barlow.”
“Coddled.” I brought my horse to an abrupt halt.
“Have you ever wanted for anything?” At the peculiar expression in my eye, he held up his hand and forestalled my answer. “Anything Rosanna could have given you, but denied you?”
“No,” I mumbled, feeling sheepish, “of course not.” I pushed aside memories of a very well-loved, though ill-at-ease orphan child. The girl had been ill-at-ease for no reason except her own ridiculous insecurity.
With a stern look, he held his mount in check and studied the small clearing just ahead of us at the side of the road. “Perhaps we should stop here for the night before the sun sinks altogether. I don't know what we'll find ahead.”
I jumped down with a muffled groan and led my weary mount toward the clearing. “I thought you knew everything there was to know about everything.”
“Almost everything. Now, be useful and transform that pile of dead leaves into a roaring campfire while I tend the horses.”
“Wretched old beast,” I muttered, coaxing the fire and ice to life. I presented him with a respectable campfire, welcome for its immediate blaze of warmth. As the sky darkened, the temperature chilled considerably and swiftly. My breath frosted and the air grew cold enough to make me shiver from head to toe.
“That's a bit bright, isn't it?” Anders tossed my gear to the ground at my feet, just missing my toes.
“Do it yourself next time,” I snapped, rummaging through my pack for our travel rations. Elena sent us home with enough provisions for twice the journey, including two extra bottles of vintage Marain wine. As though she knew we'd take a side trip to this lords' forsaken part of her realm.
“I'd have to use considerable human energy to do it the usual way, after gathering twigs and branches. I'm only a crusty old seamage, remember? Far better for my apprentice to practice.”
“I wish Elena needed another seamage in Ardenna. I wish—” Stunned, I sat back on my heels, one hand still caught in my old leather pack. I kept both eyes fixed on the man who appeared, with no warning or sound, in the midst of our makeshift camp.
Anders, on the other hand, showed surprise, though no alarm, and held both hands before him to show they were weaponless. “Alex,” he said quietly, exchanging a significant glance with me, “I suggest you remove your hand, with no rush, mind, from your pack and show our visitor you're harmless.”
I held back a sharp answer and did as he suggested. My eyes still locked on the man standing between us, lean, supple, and poised to react. In turn, he studied us with calm interest, waiting. Dressed from head to foot in dark shades of leather to match the natural tones of the forest and foothills, he blended into the land surrounding us. Easy enough to see how we could be watched by invisible eyes.
“You are strangers to Glynnswood.” His rich voice, surprising in its gentleness, startled me into standing. The woodsman stepped back, alert for any false or threatening movement.
“The young woman is here searching for her father's family,” Anders said with unusual courtesy when I didn't answer. “Her father was Sernyn Keltie, dead these past twenty-five years.”
Caught off guard, the woodsman turned his gaze back to me and studied my face, muttering some words I couldn't hear or understand. With an abrupt, yet graceful movement he confronted Anders. “Do not leave this place. I will find them.” Stepping back to the fringe of our camp, he spoke in the same placid tone that had so startled me. His intent was quite different this time. “If you mean them harm, you will not leave Glynnswood alive.”
* * * *
“Try it again.” Anders sat beside me on a fallen tree we'd dragged closer to the campfire.
“Don't mages apprenticed to you have any days where they can just laze about without being nagged?”
“Of course not. All you want to do is waste precious time. Now, try—” In his desperate haste to stand, Anders barely missed knocking me from my perch on the fallen tree.
“Flameblast it, Anders,” I snapped, trying to regain my balance without falling on my face. “What's wrong with you?” I watched all color drain from his face as he stood rigid at my side, hands balled into fists. “What is it?”
He didn't move, didn't answer, but stared across the crackling campfire like a man who saw a ghost. Following his gaze, I stood as well. My eyes held fast by the intense, unsettling stare of a tall, lean woodsman standing near the horses. Damn them all, didn't they make any noise? Backing up until I bumped into Anders, I felt his fingers grip my shoulders, holding me against him in an odd protective gesture. Thoughts of Lauryn and her insinuations drifted through my head, but I didn’t have time to reconsider her instinctive opinion. I was only aware of Anders’ hands and the fact I didn’t feel the urge to push them away.
“Anders Perrin.” The Glynnwoodsman was dressed in the same fashion as the man who found us the previous day. He met Anders' stare with a grave expression before bowing in polite greeting. “I never thought to see you again in this lifetime.”
Anders' grip tightened on my shoulders, fingers digging into flesh, as the woodsman turned appraising eyes to me, and I studied him in turn. He appeared a bit older than Anders, though that comparison stemmed from the exhausting emotion I read in his deep, rich brown eyes.
“There is so much of Emila in you, child. The blueness of your eyes.” His voice, gentle like his kinsman, faltered. Haunted grief shone clear and bright in the eyes staring with open hunger at my face. He exchanged a peculiar look with Anders and approached me with caution.
I wanted to escape without knowing what I was running from. “Did you know my mother?” I managed to stammer as he stopped, mere inches from me.
His gentle laugh rang with heartache and self-mockery. Behind me, Anders caught his breath, muttering something I couldn't quite hear, gripping me so hard my shoulders ached.
“Yes. Oh, yes.” The woodsman edged closer to me. “I knew your mother.”
“Who are you?”
Seeming reluctant to answer, he shut his eyes.
“Who are you?” I demanded, sounding rude against his courtesy.
Fear was the most visible emotion when he opened his eyes. “Your father, Alex. I am Sernyn Keltie.”
Rosanna lied. That was my first thought. The second was what escaped my lips before I could think. “You ran away because I killed her.”
Anders supported my weight as I sagged against him. “Damnation, Alex.” He shook me hard, rattling my teeth. “You didn't kill her.”
“Then why—” I choked on the words as I started to cry, shamed I'd destroyed my mother, guilty I'd survived.
“If anyone is responsible, it is me. I killed her.” Sernyn Keltie’s voice was soft, distressed by my reaction. “If I told her the truth, she might have been better prepared for a mage child. Emila might still be alive.”
“What truth?” I shouted, breaking free of Anders' protective hands as I faced my father. My father! “Tell me.”
“Your mother married a Glynnswood mage, but never knew it. I never told her the truth of what I was. I never told her my power terrified me, Alex. Never, ever, dreaming I would father a daughter with such raw talent. When Emila—” He stepped back as I clenched my fists, striking them against my legs in impotent grief and anger. “When she cried out fire and ice was destroying her from within, I recognized the truth. But by then, it was too late.” He blinked rapi
dly against unshed tears. “So you see, it was my failure that killed her.”
“So you ran away, abandoned your responsibility, and me,” I whispered hoarsely. My throat was raw when I continued, “Threw me aside because you hated me for surviving. You forced Rosanna to raise me all these years. How much did you pay her?”
“Child—”
“Lords of the sea, was I worth it?” I cried out, frantic and overwhelmed with grief and pain. I was desperate to flee.
Orphan child.
Sernyn Keltie tried to caress my cheek, but I shoved him away. Shuddering at his touch, I stumbled against Anders in my haste to put distance between us.
“Rosanna returned every coin I sent her, refusing any part of it. When she promised to keep my secret, at my request, Alex, she did not know how difficult it would be. If she had known how she would grow to love you…” He took a deep breath, steadying his voice, compelling me to look at him by his feverish plea. “Hate me, if you must hate someone. But do not lay the blame where it does not belong. I did not throw you aside. I did not leave you because I did not, or could not, love you. I fled because I was ashamed and feared you would hate me. As you do now.” He held out a hand in a desperate gesture to make me understand. “I loved your mother, and I failed her. And in failing her, I failed you.”
“Bastard!” I slapped Sernyn Keltie with the force of a lifetime of grief, and stormed past him, avoiding the haunted expression in the depths of his eyes. Untying my horse, I mounted, trying to find my way through blurred vision. I fled into the twilight shadows of the Glynnswood forest without Anders.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Anders?”
“Here.”
I heard the sound of a match being struck. Shielding my eyes from the lamp's glare, I squinted. Anders was sitting in a very uncomfortable-looking rigid chair opposite the bed in a very small, though neat, room. “Where are we?”
He rubbed bloodshot eyes, peeking between his fingers to study me. “Back at the inn we passed on the fringe of Glynnswood.”
I glanced down at my underclothes beneath the heavy wool blankets, and shivered. “I don't remember coming here.”
“I'm not surprised.” His voice was gentle. “When you rode off like that, I…” Anders studied the floor, face hidden in the shadows cast by the lamp. “You frightened the breath from me. I was terrified something would happen to you.”
Tears welled up in my eyes again. Impatient at my emotional response, I brushed them away.
“I'm so sorry, Alex.” When he glanced up again, guilt was clear in his eyes. “I didn't know your father was still alive. I thought he died when you were an infant. If I'd known the truth—”
“I know,” I whispered, pulling the threadbare blankets close around my shivering body. I took a deep, calming breath to still my grieving heart. “Anders?”
Anders watched me, his face full of uncertainty and misery.
“Hold me for just a little? Please.”
He didn't bother to answer, but came at once to sit beside me on the narrow bed. The seamage rocked me as I wept uncontrollably, without shame. The shock, the guilt, and the plea in dark eyes that begged forgiveness and understanding haunted me. Whispering soothing words to calm me, Anders held me close. A long while later I stopped trembling and listened with childlike wonder to instinct's clear voice. Lauryn was right all along.
In the light of the inn's meager lamp, I held Anders' gaze, sad and grieving, so I imagined, for me, mother, and even, lords of the sea bless him, for my father. His eyes filled with helpless compassion and guilt, and something more. The emotion had been there before, though until this quiet moment I didn’t recognize it. In spite of Lauryn’s hints and my own denial, I knew it now for what it truly was, and realized he recognized it in my eyes, too.
I traced the beard-rough lines of his cheek as he cradled me in his arms. Cautiously, so very cautiously, he took my fingers and kissed them one by one with infinite tenderness. Far more cautiously, lords of the sea how could I blame him, he leaned closer to kiss me on the lips. With not a thought for hesitation, I recognized with utter clarity what I had and what I wanted. I returned his kiss with warmth and deep affection and fierce need.
* * * *
I squinted against the intrusive sunshine and huddled with a groan beneath the threadbare blankets. I pulled them over my head to shut out any hint of morning.
“Was the night so devastating and horrid you have to hide from me?” Anders yanked the blankets back to expose my rumpled head and bare shoulders.
“As a matter of fact,” I shivered, resigned to the bright sunlight, “it wasn't horrid at all, considering what a bone-rattled old man you are.”
“Not so old when it matters.”
I looked away, studying the repetitive pattern of the faded blanket, tracing it with my finger. “Anders,” I began as he twisted a strand of my hair around his fingers. “Were you…” Embarrassed, I turned my back. “Listen, this isn't easy for me,” I whispered into the lumpy pillow. “I need to know if you and mother—”
“Never. Though it took you long enough to ask me.” He grinned with obvious self-satisfaction, pulling me around to face him. “With all the hundred thousand questions you've pestered me with, that was never one of them. I did wonder why not.”
“Not one I ever said aloud.” I ran a finger through the hair on his chest, gray-streaked to match his head.
He laughed with genuine amusement. “It wasn't like that with us. Your mother treated me like a younger brother. Which, by the way, means I'm not really as old as you think.”
“I could tell.”
“Good. I was trying hard to make you notice. Anyway, we were never lovers. Only good friends, like you and Jules.”
“Please.”
“Stop that.”
“Well, here's a good thing about Jules,” I said. “If there's a man in my bed, he won't try to find me a husband.” I trailed my fingers along his stomach. “You never told me how you and mother first met.”
“Another of those hundred thousand questions you never got around to asking.”
“Stop being an idiot.”
He gathered my fingers in his hand and pulled me close for a deep, teasing kiss. “It will cost you dearly.”
“I may not be able to tolerate the price.”
“You owe me.” He plumped the meager pillows behind his head, trying without success to coax them into a semblance of comfort as I leaned on one elbow waiting. “Your mother was privileged to witness my physical eviction from the Belbridge Cliffs Mage Council.”
“Belbridge Cliffs?”
“That's where I was born.”
“Oh. You never said.”
“You never asked.” He traced a lingering finger on my shoulder.
“Go on. You were thrown out in disgrace.”
“I never said that. I was thrown out in a rude fashion.” Sea-gray eyes flashed with an unpleasant memory, though a tiny smile tugged at his lips. “They did have cause, however, as I'd just told them what I thought of their bureaucratic, whining, pompous council of idiots.”
“I knew you were a natural diplomat the moment I saw you. Perhaps Elena can use your smooth-talking skills.”
“I can use them when necessary.” His fingers traveled a bit farther down my shoulder.
I slapped his hand away. “You'll get your fee later.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Anders stared at me with soulful longing. As I started to laugh and reach for a ticklish spot, he grabbed my arms and held me fast. “You win. At the very point where they tossed me out the door into the middle of the muddy street, I heard a very loud, distinct sound of someone clapping.”
“Mother?”
“None other.” His smile was genuine now, lost in memory. “The first thing I noticed was her eyes, bright clear blue to match yours. And they were trying so hard not to laugh. Young idiot that I was, no older than Brendan, I was indignant. My pride was sorely wounded, and then to be laughe
d at by an old woman—”
“How old?”
“About as old as you.”
“Young then, you mean.”
“Not if you ask Brendan.” He laughed, dodging my groping hands. “She had the grace of a dancer, always appeared tall, though she was a tiny slip of a thing. When Emila was sure she had my full attention, she put her papers and pack aside and pulled me to my feet.”
“I would've pushed you over.”
“Your mother had better manners, most of the time, anyway. She told me her name and how she traveled up and down Tuldamoran. Watching the councils and looking for rebellious young idiots like me. Not that she called me so, mind you.” He laughed to himself, hand tracing the line of my jaw, roaming with a gentle touch to my neck. “She had my friendship and loyalty from that day, Alex. I was intrigued at the notes she kept and studies she compiled, convinced her mages didn't need the councils to guide them.”
“What made her think that way? Didn't the council here in Port Alain train her to be a seamage?”
“Your grandmother sent her to the council the moment your mother showed the slightest indication of talent. Emila lasted one month before clashing heads with the master seamage.” He grinned at the irony. “Who was none other than the esteemed and beloved Neal Brandt. She was only fourteen and refused to go back and apologize when the master sent her scurrying home for conduct unbecoming a mage apprentice.”
“Grandmother didn't force her back?”
Anders steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “Your grandmother told me she went to the council with every intention of dragging your mother back to apologize. But Brandt was so overbearing, pompous, and arrogant, your grandmother slapped him soundly and walked out. Then she trained Emila on her own, with a fair amount of intention to spite the mage council.”
“Rosanna never told me. Probably so I wouldn't get it into my head to behave worse than I do.” I chuckled, and then had a serious thought. “Why would Rosanna suggest I go to a council mage, if that was true?”
Mage Confusion (Book 1) Page 17