by Daisy Banks
“What’ll you take for it?” he asked Thabit, avoiding a glance at her.
Surprised at his politeness, she stared at him. Crispin usually bellowed like a bull at all he met.
“Honey, a large jar, and a can of milk will suffice.”
Thabit asked for a lot. To her astonishment, Crispin nodded and headed across the square toward his house. He returned a few minutes later with a big clay jar in the curve of his elbow, and a milk can slung on his arm.
Thabit handed over the decorated scarf. “It is yours and will bring the wearer good fortune. I will return the can next time we come here.”
Crispin flashed a toothless grin, and even gave her a brief nod of recognition before he strolled off.
“Now, Sparrow, should you wish to speak to your friend, you have a few moments to do so while I pack the trades away. Then we must leave.”
She hurried over to where Alicia stood, half-hidden in the shadows. “Alicia.”
“You’re not hurt?” The bright smile Alicia often wore didn’t appear.
“No!” She smiled as she shook her head. “I’m not hurt, not at all. No matter what filthy old Agnes might say. The Mage isn’t cruel and he hasn’t… he’s not done what Agnes said he would.”
Alicia breathed out with a sigh. “I’m glad. I hope you know I’ve prayed hard to all the gods I can think of to keep you safe.”
“Well, I think you can stop praying now. I’m not sure I want to be that safe anymore. I like it at the tower. I like being with the Mage. I think he likes me, too.”
Alicia’s jaw dropped.
She laughed at her friend’s surprised expression.
The potter’s voice boomed across the small square from his workshop. “Alicia! You’re needed in the house. Your mother needs you.” Alicia’s father always had an eye for what might be going on in the square.
“I’d better go. I hope we meet again soon because there is something I have to ask you.” Alicia patted her arm with a bandaged hand before she hurried off across the small square to her parent’s house.
“Sparrow, it is time we returned to the tower,” Thabit called. She dashed over.
The full basket looked heavy. She struggled in an attempt to lift it.
He gave a low laugh with a shake of his head. “No, I will carry it back.” He stooped to pull the straps over his shoulders, hefted the basket up, and walked toward the gate.
She followed, placing her feet exactly in the marks of his footsteps all the way down the dusty track out of the village.
“I am very pleased with how you behaved. Next time, it will not be as hard. Each visit will get easier the more often we trade here. They know you have the mark, but you are safe with me for training. They understand, one day you will have wisdom beyond their imaginings. Yes, you did very well.”
Her face flushed hot at his praise, but her stomach rumbled. “Thabit, do we have any bread?”
“There are two small loaves in the basket. When we get back you can have bread and butter with honey, but you will have to wait.”
She grinned at his back. Things got better and better. Away from the eyes of the village now, she danced down the overgrown path beside him.
“A Mage’s apprentice should not hop about so, such hopping is for sparrows,” he said with a laugh as they walked on.
Chapter 7
True to his word, once Thabit lifted the basket from his shoulders, she took out the fresh bread. She cut thick slices then spread them with butter and honey. Thabit unpacked the rest, setting the oat sack in the storeroom and the fabric, needles, and thread on the end of her bed. The urge to stroke the smooth fabric made her palm itch, but her fingers were sticky with honey. As he’d said nothing about it, she wasn’t sure the red bolt of cloth was truly meant for her.
They went out to eat together. He sat beside her on the grass beside the well and they shared the sumptuous treat.
He finished his third slice. “Tonight, Sparrow, I must complete the mushroom brew in readiness for our visit to the castle.”
Busy licking her fingers, she nodded.
“I will not eat tonight or tomorrow. You only need to cook for yourself.”
“But that’s not right, Thabit. You’ll make yourself ill.”
“Nonsense. I fast so my mind will be clear. In the same way you made your mind quiet, I must make mine open. Do you think you can have the new dress ready to wear for the day after tomorrow?”
A surge of joy raced through her blood, competing with the sweetness from the honey. The red cloth was hers to make the best gown she could. “I’ll try.”
“Please do. I would rather you have a better gown to wear than the brown thing. You can’t go to the castle in my old tunic. This is important. I want the lady to like you.”
“Why is it important the lady likes me?” Despite the thrill of a new red gown, she didn’t like the look in his eyes, not one bit. He planned something. She wanted to know what it might be.
“I hope Lady Cassandra will take you into her enclave so you may study there with her other students. They should have discovered your talent and the mark years ago. Then you would have gone to her when you were a child, not been sent to me as a—”
She grinned. “Woman.”
“I was about to say maiden.”
She shook her head. “Thabit, I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to stay at the castle. This is where I belong now. The mark made me yours. That’s the rule—it’s the sign I am yours. They said it was true. I want to be yours.”
He sighed. “Well, you cannot be.”
“Please, why not?”
“If I teach you, it would be wrong. Also, such a responsibility as teaching a student would slow up my work. You have to learn control. If I do not find you a suitable teacher, what will you become?”
She searched his expression for a sign she could alter his decision. “I promise I’ll try really hard if you’ll teach me.”
He gave no response to the best bargain she could come up with, but determination filled her. If he left her at the castle, she’d run away to come back here. He’d turned the world from a fearful horror to a place she liked, somewhere she felt important and in reach of a wealth of knowledge and beauty. Most of all, she would be with him. She had no comparison for anything better.
Thabit stood. “For once and for all, Nin, you cannot be mine. I will not allow it. You are far too immature to make such a decision, far too unskilled, and I do not…” He ran a hand over his pale forehead.
“Don’t like me?” Her throat caught tight.
He closed his eyes. “No, you are again mistaken. I do like you, Sparrow, very much.” He sighed. “I am going to meditate now. I shall make the seeing brew tonight. I will not be finished until dawn. After, I will sleep. I shall see you tomorrow evening.” He walked toward the tower. Halfway to the door, he stilled and looked back over his shoulder with a frown. “Do not eat all the honey while I am working.”
She jumped up and stood hands on hips. “No, I won’t. I’m not a child. You said so yourself.”
“Hmm.” He entered the tower.
Before she cooked for the evening, she washed her hands to begin work on her new gown. Using the blue tunic as a kind of pattern and the sharpest of the kitchen shears, she concentrated hard as she cut the beautiful fabric to make the gown. The sleeves would hug her arms and the bodice her body. But, she wanted the skirt to look different. She used the length of a long spoon as a measure and cut six panels, so when she walked the skirt would swirl about her, just like his robes. The scarf Thabit had given her would match it perfectly.
Through the evening she sewed, hemming the pieces until the light dimmed too much for her to do more. Careful of creases, she rolled the fabric, ready to continue at dawn tomorrow, and as the bright stars lit up, she ate another slice of bread with butter. The honey pot stood on the shelf to tempt her, but she made sure the lid sat tight shut before she slept
.
When she woke the next dawn, the small copper cauldron hung away from the fire. She tugged on her dress and crossed to the hearth. Fascinated by what might be inside, she lifted the lid on the pot and peeked. A tiny amount of the nasty liquid, the same as the brown mess she had thrown out on her first day here, sat in the bottom of the pot. She sniffed the pungent earthy odor of the brew, then carefully replaced the cover. What did he do with the mixture? Surely, he couldn’t mean to drink it.
After she bathed, she checked the peas and beans and assessed the rows of carrots. The cabbages wouldn’t last much longer. Even though she watered the small plot each day, its offerings were still small. Next time they went to the market, he must trade for seeds or roots to plant here. She picked vegetables for enough stew for Thabit, in case he should change his mind about eating.
The rest of the day, she sat on the grass by the well where she sewed until her fingers ached. Her new gown came together as though under a spell. Despite tiredness pricking at her eyes, she hemmed the ten, tiny lace holes on the bodice.
Evening bees droned a lazy hum in the flowers when she finally held up the beautiful finished gown. True, it was plain, very plain, but red like an August sunset. She had no laces to match, but the black ones she already had would work, and she threaded them through.
When she tried the new dress on in the kitchen, a ripple of delight ran over her. She almost called up to him to come and see, for the soft wool clung in just the way she’d imagined. She had never owned anything this pretty, except the scarf he’d given her. The excitement made her long to dance, for she couldn’t wait until he saw her wearing the gown.
She twirled around the kitchen but feared she might spill something so changed back out of it. She caressed the fabric as she folded it, then set it ready for her to wear for their journey in the morning. To visit the castle was a fairy tale. She could hardly believe she would go. Her one concern to spoil the dream remained. Would she come home with him tomorrow night?
One way or another, she’d manage it.
The stew had simmered all day. She ate a little, and after, tidied the kitchen. Only once did she catch her mind in the hums he could hear. She stilled the noise and concentrated hard until her thoughts stayed quiet. The evening light dimmed, but she went out to water the vegetable garden. A fresh surprise greeted her. The first shoots of green along one row. Onions. They must have slumbered from lack of moisture. She’d see them well weeded and watered from now on. Putting down the bucket, she checked again to see if the peas swelled any nearer to ripeness and made sure that the wood ash she’d spread at the base of the canes was thick enough to keep the slugs at bay.
At full dark when she drew the drapes, he still had not come down from the workshop. She fretted about him being hungry, but, as he’d said, she would not disturb him. He must know what he was doing.
Curled on her bedroll, the glow of the banked fire added to her content. Drowsy and ready to sleep, for the first time since she arrived, she made a prayer not driven by desperation. Gods, please let me stay here with Thabit.
* * * *
“Wake up, Sparrow, it is time to dress and go.” Thabit called her from the dream where he was just about to kiss her. Her gaze slid up to his face. The skin of her shoulder where his hand had touched seemed to sizzle like spit on a hot coal.
Today, he looked more beautiful than ever. His long dark hair shone glossy like polished ebony as it fell past his shoulders. His robe—a deep, mustard yellow, the finest robe she’d ever seen—was covered in embroidered designs in tiny black stitches. That robe had to be worth more than all the cows in the village.
“You’ll have to wait while I bathe and dress,” she said and sucked in his smile. The blanket clutched to her, she sat up and caught hold of the red gown from where she’d set it last night. She wrapped the cover tight around her body before she slithered off her bed and backed out the door.
“Be quick. We need to be on our way before the sun is much higher.” His call faded as she dashed out to the stream.
Despite the cool dawn, she dunked herself in the chilly water and scrubbed at her grubby feet and ankles. Her skin tingled when she dried herself on the blanket. Gleeful, she wriggled into the red gown. She draped the blanket on a branch to dry. There would be no need of it tonight, because the determination filled her that this night, she would share Thabit’s bed. She had no comb, so she ran her fingers through her hair and pushed the weight of it back over her shoulders. The bubble of excitement grew larger with each step she took. She hurried back to the tower.
* * * *
Thabit checked his pouch once more while he waited. The tiny, dark bottle of mushroom brew remained sealed tight, but he could almost taste the sour bitterness within. He got up to check around the tidy kitchen.
The stew pot set on the largest hook was still over half full. The honey jar had not moved from where he had seen it last night. He smiled, for she had kept her word. At a sound from the doorway, he turned, ready to say how pleased he was, but she took all words away.
How can she be so fair?
This morning, with his concentration on the scrying to come, the glamour had failed. For the first time in two days, she did not appear old, gray-haired, and warty as she stood in the light spilling in from the clean window. This morning she was the sun-kissed, fair fae who had knocked on his door. Not only did she glow, lovely as a dew shimmered lily, but the new gown clung to her lithe body. The wide skirt spread down from her hips in a sweep to the floor. The bodice, pulled skintight by her lacings, outlined her body in detail. Each rounded breast stood ripe like a summer apple, ready for plucking.
“I didn’t expect it to look like that, Sparrow.” He rose from the chair, crossed the room in three swift steps, took her hand, and, unable to resist, bowed.
The pink blush on her cheek beckoned his finger to stroke over the heat. If he didn’t get her out of here now, no question about it, Lord Farel would wait a long time for his arrival at the castle.
Instead of traveling there, he’d spend the morning in the delightful exploration of the sweet, soft curves outlined by the clinging red wool. His mouth grew dry and he couldn’t swallow. Closer now, she smelled fresh, like the woods after rain, and try as he might, he could not dismiss her appeal to his senses.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, Sparrow, you look like a queen. Lady Cassandra will adore you.” He cast about for any other thought but Nin.
“I don’t want the lady to adore me. I want—”
“No. Not another word.” He put a finger to her lips. They were smooth and soft, warm and tender. When she grinned and opened her mouth to take a mischievous nip, he drowned in sensation. Desire flooded his body. “Stop it, now.”
Smiling, her eyes soft as burnished chestnuts, she stepped closer still.
Gods help him, he could do nothing else but slide his arms around her and gather her in. Her smile dazzled as she tilted her head back to gaze into his eyes.
The red wool warmed under his hands. He leaned in as she closed her eyes, bent his head until her breath touched his cheek. On her little sigh, he covered her mouth with his, and her pink lips, sweet and softer than petals, warmed him like wine.
Her delicious, honeyed mouth opened. He slid his tongue inside to meet hers. She mewed and molded herself to him. The world, like him, breathed deep, as with tiny delicate movements her tongue stroked over his. The room darkened, the only reality her pliant body pressed tight against his.
His blood pounded in a rising match of her rapid heartbeat, its staccato rhythm thudding through her breasts squashed and flattened against his chest. The silky ripples of her hair slid beneath his palms. He curled his fingers through the thick waves as he cradled her head. Every action combined to create a new universe from this moment.
A hot ache for her throbbed in his groin, but when she wriggled against him, a sudden cold wave of awareness flashed through the heat.
Somewhere in the depths of his honor, he found the strength to take his mouth from hers and hold her at arm’s length away from him. Her brilliant smile shone bright like the early sun, her moist, parted lips beckoned, inviting him to come back soon. He fought to ignore the need rampant in his flesh. “Enough, Sparrow, enough. I swear I’ll not call you girl anymore.”
Her gaze sparkled and she ran a finger over her lip as if to catch his kiss. “Good, and when we come home, Thabit, I’ll lie with you, and then I’ll really be yours?”
He blinked in surprise. She had no qualms in her demands. Right now, such robust honesty was not an admirable trait.
He’d no intention of bedding her. None at all.
That’s a lie. The way his body throbbed to aching, he would delight in her sweet flesh. He shook his head. “Tonight, I will be exhausted and go alone to my bed.”
Her smile faded, but the challenge in her eyes warned she would not let this matter rest. He would have the energy for the glamour tomorrow, but not today or tonight when he would be weakened. Would it make a scrap of difference to his desire for her if he disguised her charms? Somehow, unless Cassandra kept Nin there this evening he would have to deal with her plans when they returned from the castle.
The sounds of her song invaded his thoughts.
“You have failed to practice while I have been busy.”
She nodded her head and her curls bobbed. Silence came again with her contrite expression.
I could take her now!
He closed his eyes to shut the delight of her out and grasped at anything he could to plunge her back into a servant, or pupil, anything other than this luscious morsel to tempt him. “If you do not practice, you will not improve, and you will drive me to madness. Now come. It is time to go.”