As the deep darkness had filled the room, they had returned to the cocoon of their bed. Gorren insisted that Elthrinn be the one to take the side of the mattress closest to the wall. In truth, she felt claustrophobic, and had tried to argue for the opposing side. They had been in danger of falling out, until she had simply told Gorren that she felt trapped. He had explained his need to protect her, partly instinct engrained deep in his genetic history, and partly a habit of his current occupation, neither of which he could alter. Elthrinn had accepted her side of the bed graciously, and had resolved to bear such a peculiarity in mind the next time they needed to negotiate over something.
"You're awake?" Gorren's voice rasped at her ear.
"Yes."
"Good." He kissed her neck, just below her ear. Elthrinn was beginning to learn that it was very hard to think any sensible thoughts when Gorren kissed her neck.
When his lips left her skin she blinked, trying to recall the point in time that she'd stopped thinking. "You have plans?"
"Yes, plans that involve breakfast and clothes."
"They don't sound like very interesting plans."
"They are, trust me."
But he indulged her in some far more interesting activities before he threw the covers back.
~o0o~
The morning was in full sway by the time they were ready to leave their room. There was lingering stiffness and aching in her muscles, but each small pain was a reminder of the pleasure that had been its cause. Every time she moved, and thus felt a twinge in her legs, or arms, or... elsewhere, she had to make an effort not to blush. It was usually a futile endeavour. Gorren had chuckled to himself the entire time that she'd been dressing. Elthrinn had been relieved to find that Gorren did not expect her to dress like his mother now that they were wed; she hadn't known if tradition demanded such a change in costume. Fortunately, he seemed to prefer her in the garments that would have been her own choice.
By the time they reached the dining room, the rest of Gorren's family were obviously well into, or reaching the end of, their meal. Elthrinn could hear the clinking of cutlery and hum of voices muted by the closed doors. She stopped walking, suddenly unable to take another step.
"Rinn? What's wrong?"
"Everyone will know... what we were doing." If she blushed any harder surely she would just burst into flames.
Gorren let out a breathy laugh, and pulled her close, tucking her head against his chest. "It's only what everyone expected."
"But still... your parents..."
"Won't care in the slightest." Her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, which made Gorren laugh harder. "Come on, you need to eat."
Since she was starving, Elthrinn didn't see how she could argue any further, but she was still mortified.
King Dorll spared them a glance from under his eyebrows when Gorren pushed the door open, and then returned to his food. Elthrinn stayed glued to Gorren's side, needing the comfort of his touch. Noridan looked up at the intrusion, and immediately broke into a wide, patronisingly smug smile. Rehan was also smiling, but in a much more restrained fashion. She immediately caught the attention of a maid to make sure that they had their own plates of food. They took their seats at the table, which meant that Elthrinn had to let Gorren go. Noridan had obviously noticed her reluctance; his smirk intensified.
During the previous weeks, Elthrinn had become used to the disparaging comments and endless criticisms that King Dorll laid on his son. She had hoped that his attitude might change following the wedding. She was three mouthfuls into her bowl of porridge before he proved that theory wrong.
"Everyone expected you to be sequestered longer," the king stated.
Elthrinn could feel that Gorren had tensed, but she also knew that he would not respond. It was Noridan who filled the ensuing silence.
"Not that it matters."
If Gorren became any more still he would turn into stone. "Not that it's anyone's business." His voice was squeezed out from between grated teeth in such a way that even Noridan dropped the subject.
"You have plans for the day?" Elthrinn could tell from the strained note in Rehan's bright tone that she was trying to avoid an argument occurring at the table.
"Yes." Gorren would not be drawn into a verbal fight with his brother, but he obviously wasn't prepared to engage in conversation in the presence of Noridan or Dorll, either.
Elthrinn managed to choke down a few more mouthfuls, and then abandoned the idea of eating. Her stomach had abandoned its nagging under the weight of the unpleasant atmosphere in the room.
Dorll had evidently decided to remain obstinately seated at the head of the table, even though he had finished eating. Elthrinn was more relieved than she could describe when Gorren left half of his own meal, caught her hand in his, and nodded towards the door. As they were leaving, his father called after them, but they both ignored him. Elthrinn wasn't sure how sensible an idea that was, but she would follow Gorren's lead, and the king had done nothing to deserve her respect or deference.
They returned to their room, but only to collect their cloaks. Gorren didn't speak at all, and Elthrinn let him be silent. She was frustrated at Dorll's constant sniping at his son; she could only imagine how hard it must be to be the focus of so much disdain. She knew that Gorren would calm eventually; he needed only her quiet support until then.
Gorren led the way out through the hall, via the kitchens rather than the main entrance. He filched some cheese, fruit, and bread on the way. Elthrinn followed him to the stables. She watched him saddle a horse for her, and then gently asserted that she would fit the bridle while he saddled his own mount. Gorren nodded, but still didn't speak. They mounted their respective animals in silence, and rode out into the day.
Gorren steered them along a route that skirted the town, towards the barracks. The houses grew fewer and farther apart as they ascended the lower slopes of the ridge that kept the barracks from the view of the town. Elthrinn was surprised when they came upon a house, and Gorren pulled up and dismounted near the door. Since he didn't tell her to remain mounted, she swung her leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground.
There didn't seem to be any movement within the cottage. It was set on a grassy slope; a stream ran down the banking to one side, providing an endless supply of fresh water. The forest guarded the higher ground. The front of the structure appeared to face south; it would benefit from the warmth of the sun for most of the day. Apart from the noise of their arrival, the snorting and whickering of their horses, and the faint sounds of nature from the forest, it was perfectly quiet. By Elthrinn's best guess, it was at least three hundred paces to the closest house that she could see.
"Who lives here?" she asked when Gorren started for the door.
He turned, and she saw that he was holding a key. "No one. It used to belong to a widow. She recently passed on. Her family is all grown with homes of their own. They have no use for this house, they wish only to profit from its sale."
"You mean to purchase it?"
"Yes. For us."
Elthrinn considered the structure while she considered that statement. The door to the house was almost a miniature of that of Cranak Hall, the door and the posts around it shared similar carvings of wolves and the lunar cycle. The roof was turfed, but it extended out over the walls, and was held up by posts planted into the ground. Elthrinn wandered around the building. It seemed that the extended eaves would provide good shelter from the elements for the windows. Like most of the houses in the town, it did not rise above the ground floor.
From the outside, it appeared lovely and well kept, but Elthrinn still felt uncomfortable. Her disquiet was based in a feeling of inadequacy. She had no income, no dowry, no inheritance, nothing. She could not contribute to the purchase in anyway. She wanted to be more independent, so that their partnership could be equal, but she'd been forced to begin it on such a disadvantaged footing. She said as much to Gorren. He was standing at the open door waiting for her to finis
h her inspection of the exterior.
Even before she'd finished speaking he was wrapping her in his arms, and pulling her close. "I don't need money from you, Rinn, only your approval. If you don't like it, we'll find somewhere else, but I want to leave the hall sooner rather than later, and you can't share a room with me and those reprobates at the barracks. I'd stay at the hall if you wanted to, but I don't think you like it there any better than I do."
"I'll miss your mother." Elthrinn didn't want to speak ill of his childhood home, but she couldn't honestly disagree.
"My mother won't let the sun set on a day without having seen you, whether we live in the hall or not. I can promise you that."
Elthrinn nodded against Gorren's chest, and then pulled back so she could look up at him. "Very well, show me around our new home, then."
"You haven't seen it. You don't know that you'll like it yet."
"Show me, but I'm sure I will," she grinned. "You have excellent taste."
When Gorren laughed, and pulled her close to kiss the top of her head, she knew she'd broken his bad mood.
The interior of the house was basic, but comfortable and clean. The feeling of sparseness wasn't helped by a lack of furniture, but Gorren explained that they would only need a few pieces for it to be functional. When Elthrinn expressed how much she'd miss their little cave of a bed, Gorren promised to build her a new one just like it.
"The only thing to the detriment of this location that I can see," Gorren continued, "is that it's so far away from any other houses."
"I don't see that as a disadvantage." Elthrinn said. No one, other than Deffry, had made it known that they had an active dislike of her, but Elthrinn felt... tolerated, rather than accepted. She was happy to speak to the townspeople, and they were politely friendly in their turn, but she couldn't shake the sense that they were quietly waiting for her to decide it was all too much, and to leave.
"I understand, but I'd feel happier if you were a little closer to other people. I'll be going away soon, for a long time. I want you safe 'til I return."
"You're so sure that you will?" The words were out before she thought them.
She'd angered him. The fury was blatant in Gorren's expression. He caught her face between both his hands, ever gentle, but firm.
"Absolutely. I will always come home to you, Rinn."
She wanted to believe him, she really did. His expression was so intense, his voice so earnest. Everything about his demeanour screamed that he believed he was speaking the truth, but he was a soldier, a soldier about to march for battle; it was foolish to make such impossible promises.
"Don't make promises that you can't keep." Her voice sounded pitifully sad, even to her own ears.
Gorren's hold on her tightened fractionally. "Rinn, if I don't survive this war, I will return as a ghost and haunt you 'til the end of your days. One way or the other, I will return to you. I love you."
She'd been about to make a remark about his earnest oath to return from the dead for her, but the three words he'd uttered made her bite that rebuttal back. She opened her mouth to begin to speak but Gorren took that as invitation to kiss her, thoroughly and completely, until she'd forgotten what it was that she'd been about to say.
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe him so much that it made her heart hurt. And that was precisely why she couldn't believe him. Nothing ever lasted.
When she slipped her arms around his waist, he released her face, allowing her to press herself into him, to lay her head against his chest where she could listen to the steady beat of his heart. It was rapidly becoming her favourite place to be, her favourite sound to hear.
When she thought she could speak without tears, she tilted her head to look up at him. "I love you, too. Please, don't break my heart."
Chapter Sixteen
Gorren thought he'd never heard any words more beautiful in his life, but they'd been uttered with such wrenching sorrow, and faith, faith that he hadn't had a chance to earn yet. He bent to kiss Elthrinn, just to brush his lips over hers, needing only to feel the connection, to know that she would let him, rather than to express passion. It was Elthrinn that turned the kiss into something deeper.
If he could have his way, they'd spend the rest of their lives in a private embrace. He was jealous of her company. As much as he loved his mother, he couldn't help but feel the itch of resentment if she stole Elthrinn away for some supposed need. A guilty part of him was glad that she had no family in Dorvek; he was glad that there weren't more people making demands on their time.
Gorren groaned, and let her swallow the sound. He pulled away and tucked Elthrinn close to his body. He had to try twice before he could speak. "I won't, Rinn. I promise."
He thought her answer was a sob.
But this was not supposed to be a day for sadness. It was supposed to be a day for joy, a day for new beginnings, a day for freedom. Gorren breathed in, not the scents of the stale, closed-up cottage, but the fragrance of Elthrinn's hair, the aromas of love and of independence.
He heard Elthrinn sniff, and he felt the movement as she wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. When she pushed, he let her go, but she didn't go far, only enough to turn this way and that to look around the interior of the cottage again. Gorren knew that if he felt the front of his waistcoat, it would be damp from her tears. Her voice sounded weak and watery as it began, but it grew stronger with every word.
"I like it, I really do, but there's so much space. Do we need so much space? How many children do you intend to fill it with?"
If she'd punched him in the gut it couldn't have knocked the air out of him more effectively. Elthrinn had obviously noted his inhale and stutter.
"What?" she demanded.
"Rinn, I need to tell you..." He had no idea how to tell her... He'd promised not to break her heart, and yet the sun had hardly moved in the sky before he was going to break that promise.
"Tell me what?" she asked, her brow furrowed with suspicion.
Straight out was the only way; there were no flowery words to soften this blow. "We can't... we can't have children."
Her expression fell; her face went completely blank. "Is that what Noridan meant this morning?"
"Yes." He'd wanted to carve out his brother's heart for making such a snide remark at the table.
He couldn't discern any emotion on Elthrinn's face. He had expected tears, devastation, fury. Didn't all women want children? Perhaps she hadn't understood him properly. Perhaps she only thought it would be hard, rather than impossible.
"Very well."
Her quiet acceptance stunned him. "What do you mean, 'very well'?"
"It could be worse. I did think there was a chance you were going to tell me that I'd be birthing a litter of puppies in a few months from the look on your face."
Gorren let out a gasp of a laugh, part relief, and part humour at the ridiculous image of Elthrinn birthing puppies. "No, no, not at all. You don't seem... upset?"
Elthrinn shrugged "I've never really considered having children. To find out that we can't negates the need to."
"You don't like children?" They hadn't come across many, but Elthrinn had never recoiled from a small child, she'd never given him reason to think she actively disliked them.
"Oh, I do," she assured him, " but when I went into the temple I put the possibility of a family aside forever. I haven't considered it again in any other terms." She looked up at him; the fear he saw there, and the trust, made his gut twist. "And, Gorren, my mother died in childbirth. The idea of carrying a child, of birthing one, it scares me; it scares me a lot."
Gorren was beginning to feel the sting of the loss of the thing that they'd never have more keenly than he'd thought he would. But the half-formed vision of dark-haired, dark-eyed children dancing around his knees faded in the intensity of Elthrinn's expression. She was truly afraid. Even if it were possible, he would not make her face that fear.
"It's not something you'll ever have to worry
about. We can't conceive with people who can't shift form."
"I thought I was the only foreigner in the country?"
There was an arch hint of jealousy in her tone, as if she suspected that he'd already personally tested the theory.
"Very likely at the present, but there have been others intermittently, and our people have wandered out through different countries."
Elthrinn shrugged. "It doesn't matter much to me if I am." Then she gave him a sly look from under her thick lashes. A small smile curved her lips, in a way that made Gorren want to throw her to the floor, and kiss her silly. "If I start to feel broody, though, I may want to get a puppy."
He laughed at the idea of them having an actual litter of puppies. He couldn't imagine any larger obstacle that they'd have to overcome than the results of the physical incompatibility of their species. Relief, and the sense of liberty, made him giddy. He caught Elthrinn by the waist, and swung her up and around in circles right in the middle of the cottage.
Searching the Darkness (Erythleh Chronicles Book 2) Page 17