by A. F. Dery
“What if we did ‘bond,’ then? Where would the impediment be?” Thane looked again at Graunt in time to see her smile suddenly, the sharp jagged points of her teeth glinting like broken glass in the sun.
“I don’t know that there would be one. Normally, refreres do not think of their Mirrors in such a way, but normally, Mirrors don’t find themselves on Eladrian soil. Who is to say? Perhaps it could be done.” Then as abruptly as her smile had come, it vanished, and she continued in a low, severe tone, “But if you ever make up your mind to ask her, my boy, mind your old Graunt’s words, and don’t make the mistake of asking her unless and until the bond between you is complete. It will all end with heartache otherwise, for both of you. I promise you that. Neither of you would be able to live with the result, regardless of what it was.”
Thane frowned at that, the questions he had been refusing to consider clamoring anew in the back of his mind, teasing at the edges of his awareness. If there had been any doubt before, there was none now: she was not telling him something, and he knew better than to demand whatever-it-was from her directly.
“Come now, let us see how she fares,” Graunt said, taking his arm as though oblivious to his inner turmoil.
But he knew by the speculative look he gave him as he led her out that she was anything but. Their walk through the Keep was silent; Thane barely registered the customary signs of respect those around him displayed as they made their way through, barely saw the startled and usually frightened glances aimed at Graunt. She seldom left her cave in recent years, not since Thane had been much younger. He realized she had probably only left it as often as she had then because he’d needed her presence more; now she emerged with the same infrequency she had done with previous lords. He knew the thought should have warmed him, but still, the worry over knowledge withheld gnawed at him. He trusted Graunt implicitly, but he knew better than to think her judgment infallible.
Graunt seemed to sense his tension: she was remarkably perceptive when she chose to be. He could tell by the way she occasionally, almost affectionately, squeezed his arm, and by her utter dearth of mumbled critical commentary on everything and everyone they passed. He forced his thoughts to the present, and willed his eyes to be watchful. The armed presence inside his walls had been heightened since Kesara’s abduction: it made him feel slightly ill to see them there. He was not concerned for himself, or for a possible assassination. It was the thought of anything happening to anyone else who was supposed to be under his protection that was enough to keep him awake at night, if the nightmarish memory of Kesara when he’d found her wasn’t enough.
He rapped briefly at her door now and pushed it open, hanging back politely to allow Graunt to enter first. She swept past him, all bark brown folds. Kesara was just as as he’d left her, only she’d somehow contrived to obtain a steaming cup.
“Well, look at you, little rabbit. Awake, I see, and drinking. What is that, tea? You’d best hope you won’t be needing more of my special tea for your blood clotting, or you’ll be tasting it a second time, mark my words,” Graunt declared cheerfully.
“It is very good tea, madame,” Kesara murmured, casting down her eyes deferentially. He barely managed to turn his startled laugh into an awkward cough.
“Hmph,” Graunt said, casting an amused glance at Thane before bending over the foot of the bed. “I will have to remove these bandages, clean the wounds and apply more ointment. There may be more stitching necessary, by the look of things. Did no one tell you to keep off these for now? No, no, don’t tell me. Rabbits never were reputed for their common sense.”
“But Fred did tell me, madame,” Kesara admitted. “And he also brought my tea.” She looked up and her eyes briefly met Thane’s. They had an odd devilish sparkle and he realized Fred was not one of Kesara’s favorite people.
First Darius, now Fred, Thane mused. How fickle is woman. Watching Graunt unwrap Kesara’s feet, he remembered suddenly, And his name isn’t Fred!
“I wager I need not remind you to hold still,” Graunt said as she removed the last bandage from one foot. Kesara studied the appendage in question with a thoughtful look on her face. It was, of course, the one with the missing toes that Graunt had unwrapped first.
“All my dreams of becoming a renown peddler of ladies’ fine sandals, gone,” she said solemnly, then betrayed herself with a slightly hysterical giggle that made him raise his eyebrows and shoot a concerned look at Graunt.
She, of course, was not looking at him, but at the injuries she was treating with a businesslike mien. “You only lost two, no need for dramatics. Still eight more perfectly useful ones where those came from.”
“I’m sorry,” Kesara said. “It’s just making me regret having the tea, looking at what’s left of them.”
“You could close your eyes. Common sense, rabbit!” Graunt gave a single shake of her head and began to re-bandage her.
“It wouldn’t bother me if they weren’t mine, that’s the strange thing,” Kesara babbled distantly. She looked very white. “I’ve definitely seen worse, and yet, there is no denying they were my toes. On my foot. And now-”
“She’s going to faint,” Thane commented to Graunt, not taking his eyes off her. Graunt shook her head.
“No, I think she can rally. I’m almost finished on this one, after all. I think the stitches will hold, they’re only seeping now.” Graunt held up the roll of fresh bandages she’d just extracted from her bag. “But a barrel of his Lordship’s best dark ale would not go amiss, if you’d like to put it to wager, boy.” She looked back at him over one shoulder and rolled her little dark eyes at him in an unsettling way that Thane knew from experience meant amusement.
“I don’t faint,” Kesara protested weakly, but he couldn’t help but notice that she wouldn’t look away from her mutilated foot. He had to admit, allowing himself a quick look at it, that it still looked pretty terrible. He had seen the original damage, of course, before he had gotten her back, and it was an improvement over the way it had been then- but still, he could understand her reaction. It was swollen and gory, even cleaned and stitched up, and it was plain that the toes on either side of the missing ones had been chewed on, even though they had survived intact. In some spots, bone was visible.
He was actually quite impressed that she had managed to look this long, and he told her as much.
“It’s not that bad,” Kesara said doubtfully. “Really.” But her eyes were wide and staring.
“You’ll come with me to Court, if I’m right, Graunt?” Thane murmured to the back of Graunt’s head. He heard her chuckle low. She had not been to Court in his company since he was newly crowned. She hated it there, but the things she could learn...perhaps, he thought, she could hear some whispers about Malachi’s treachery.
“If she faints, I will come, boy. But it’s two barrels now if I win. It will serve you right for getting greedy,” Graunt said smugly.
“You’re on,” he said, suppressing a grin of triumph.
Kesara frowned at them darkly but did not comment. Graunt finished wrapping up her foot, and to his immense sympathy, she released a deep breath she probably hadn’t realized she was holding, looking almost as if she’d just woken from a bad dream.
She smiled at him. “Sorry for your losses then, my lord.”
He barely stopped himself in time from smiling back. “Save your condolences for Graunt, Kes.”
She looked askance at him, but then she noticed for the first time that her other foot.
“Oh,” she said, and her eyes rolled back as she slumped.
“Poor Kes,” Thane said quietly. He moved to her side and briefly grazed her cheek with his knuckles, but she didn’t stir.
“Good gods, missing toes didn’t bother her, but a few little bites off the sides?” Graunt clicked her teeth in disgust. “That’ll grow back. Just skin and meat, mostly. Not like she needs to balance with it or anything, the bone’s just fine, and all the toes are still there.” She frowned a little, a si
ght even Thane found a bit disturbing as her jowls drooped in response. “But I will need to bring out the needle again on this one, I’m afraid. Silly girl. Perhaps it’s better she dropped off.”
“Good of you to be so magnanimous in your defeat, old mother,” Thane said, but his heart wasn’t in it. He hadn’t though Kesara’s reaction would truly bother him, especially when he had himself predicted it, but it had.
“Oh, don’t stand there and sulk, Thane. She’ll be fine,” Graunt said impatiently as she started to sew. “Really, what would your men say?”
“Nothing,” Thane smirked a little. “They’d know better than that.”
“Oh, of course they would,” Graunt said slyly. “There’s already rumors going round, you know. If Fred out there saw you fretting about her like this, oh my.”
He frowned. “Not you, too, Graunt. You must know there’s not an Eladrian dead or alive who’s ever been called Fred.”
“I like the way she adapts to her environment. I’m sure he never bothered to give her a name and still wouldn’t be bothered even if she asked him for one. So she makes do.”
“You like her now, do you?” Thane crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. Graunt barked a laugh.
“Never said I liked her,” Graunt said easily. “And look, she’s coming around already.”
Indeed, Kesara’s blue eyes were fluttering open. Thane watched her as she looked down and saw Graunt, still present and now bandaging. She groaned a little, her pale cheeks suddenly coloring as she recalled her previous denials of fainting.
“It’s all right. I had a soldier once who would fall asleep at random times for no apparent reason,” Thane said cheerfully. Kesara glanced up at him wide eyed, obviously startled that he was standing beside her when she’d last seen him across the room.
Graunt snorted. “Don’t listen to him, rabbit. You fainted dead away and cost me a good deal in the bargain.”
“I’m sorry, madame,” Kesara said somberly. “I don’t usually faint, honestly. I think I must still be overwrought from my ordeal. Or something.”
“Or something,” Graunt repeated, but the meaningful look she gave Kesara with the words did not go unnoticed by either its intended recipient or Thane. Kesara looked away from her as though embarrassed, and Thane fought back a frown. Something isn’t right here.
“What is this ‘something’ you mean, Kes?” Thane asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but the sharp look Graunt gave him only confirmed the nagging feelings that had been troubling him.
Kesara was eyeing him now in the same uncomfortable, cautious manner as he’d seen people approach dogs they weren’t entirely certain were tame. He half expected her to hold up her hands in case he looked like he’d lunge.
“Well, you know, my lord. Only that-”
“She doesn’t mean anything that need concern you,” Graunt interrupted, rising to her full height and pushing what remained of her roll of bandages in her bag. “Provided that you exercise any sense.”
Thane almost jumped at the speed with which Kesara suddenly sat up in the bed. She glared with startling ferocity at Graunt, her blue eyes almost seeming to burn in her face. “With respect, madame, this has nothing to do with my lord’s ‘sense.’ He knows my choices and he respects them. I thought you told him everything.”
Graunt laughed, plainly unperturbed. “I told him everything he needs to know. He doesn’t need to know your folly if he engages in none of his own. If you wish to speak further on it, I will thank you to seek me out privately, little rabbit. Your fangs can do old Graunt no harm, but on the contrary, the look on his Lordship’s face will entertain me for some time to come.”
Kesara gave him a quick look and shrank back against her pillow. Thane wasn’t even sure what astonishment looked like on him, but he felt rather sorry to see the fire go out of her as abruptly as it had come. Now he could clearly picture the sight she must have presented Darius when they had their little “incident” before and he tried not to smile. It was easy enough when he recalled what had invoked her ire in the first place.
A fanged rabbit indeed, he mused. And she didn’t know that I don’t know...but I’ll have it out of her now.
“You’ll walk me back, my boy?” Graunt asked him sweetly, holding out one long, pointed hand.
“Of course, old mother,” he answered, just as sweetly. But he already felt anxious to return and pry the truth from his broken little Mirror.
Thane should have known it was not to be. Graunt walked twice as slowly as he’d ever known her to, insisting on stopping several times to “catch her breath,” even though she gave no sign whatsoever of being winded. Thane made a show of asking after her health, which Graunt replied to in tones suspiciously meek, a script they had both seen carried out at length amongst the ruling classes many a time, but had never before had the unfortunate occasion of being embroiled in with each other.
As much as Thane cared for Graunt, he was within a hairs’ breadth of gathering the old hag up and pitching her, pointy head first, into her cave with all speed when she at last allowed herself to be led inside without further disturbance, only to delay him yet further by asking him if he would not add wood to her omnipresent fire, and would he mind stacking some near the hearth in case the night grew so bitter cold again, and would he mind so much filling her kettle and putting it on for her? She was tired, he should have pity on his poor old Graunt, what with the shameless way he had raced her home. He might not suffer so much these days from the aches and pains and pangs of life, but she, poor old Graunt, was not so blessed.
Thane’s jaw ached terribly from resisting the urge to grind his teeth. There was no quiet, subtle way for a man of his countenance to practice such a bad habit, and it was taking every shred of his self restraint to keep his answers pleasant and his demeanor humble.
When at last he had managed to escape her onerous company and make his way back to his tower, Kesara was, of course, asleep. He was by this time feeling so impatient and frustrated that he did not bother trying to stop himself from grinding his large teeth, but he still could not bring himself to wake her. She looked exhausted, even in repose, her face pale and the bruising of shadows still visible beneath the fringe of lashes that rested in twin dark crescents against her cheeks. He watched her for a long moment, grinding away, before stalking back to his own bedchamber, oblivious to the look of mingled amusement and exasperation “Fred” traded with his newly arrived relief in their lord’s wake.
Tomorrow, he vowed silently. Another night would not pass before he knew what the hell was going on in his own Keep.
CHAPTER TEN
“I won’t be gone long, Maggie. It’s time to figure out just what the hell happened out there,” Malachi told his wife grimly as he gently hugged her goodbye in the doorway of her chambers. It was the farthest they dared go from the Mirror, who was presently sitting at table with a cup of tea in her shaking hands.
The woman looked even more dreadful this morning, if that were even possible. The shadows under her eyes kept growing darker, her skin grayer and stretched ever more tightly over her bones, the lines etched around her eyes and pursed mouth deeper. It seemed now that she waned with every hour and Malachi was beginning to fear she would not live to help Margaret through the birth. He pushed that thought from his mind determinedly and returned his focus to the woman in his arms. She looked up at him with wide, worried eyes, as if reading his thoughts.
“Don’t worry, love,” he added as gently as he could, grazing a pink cheek with his knuckle. “Any Raiders that were there will be long gone. Our sentries would not have returned from the scene otherwise.” He had finally told her that they had returned with evidence that the Lyntarans had indeed been present, seeing no way around it now that he was going to investigate. “If anything happens while I’m gone, the servants know where I’m going so they can send a messenger to reach me.” Hurling the poor fool overhand if necessary.
“I’m worried about what you will find wh
en you get there, Edmund. What if things are worse than you know? What if there are rebels out there? You could be in danger from them if they saw you there,” Margaret murmured, biting her lip.
Malachi sighed. “I won’t tell you that’s impossible, much as I wish I could. But I’m not going out there with any fuss, a couple of men and sentries and we are going around the towns in between, not through them. I assure you that I will take every reasonable precaution in case there is need.”
Margaret just nodded as he kissed her hand and pulled away. “Sooner gone, sooner back,” he said cheerfully. “Be good, Maggie.”
How he hated to leave her! Even as she murmured her farewell and wished him luck as he walked down the hall, he felt his heart sinking. The only thing that compelled his footsteps now was the sure knowledge that Raiders were a greater danger to her than his present complement of servants. And given the very shallow level of trust he had invested in them, that wasn’t saying much. He felt torn in two, but it was only a ride of three days to the site of the attack. Three days’ ride between where Maggie slept and the last known sighting of Raiders on his soil. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, not even if multiplied by ten, in Malachi’s estimation.
The Raiders, of course, were trained to ride much faster than a man in his forties with two soldiers and two sentries in tow.
And he had not exactly lied to Margaret. They were not going through the towns, but around them. The men he was bringing were, however, going to go in as they passed and see what they could learn from the townspeople, find out what kind of rumors or gossip they had heard, and gauge their true sentiments towards their country and lord. In ordinary clothing, not uniform, of course.
Malachi would have liked to say, if only to himself, that the Raiders’ visits and Lady Ossian’s cutting words had not affected him, that he had swatted both away as mere gnats attempting to trouble his peace of mind, but it was not so. It had taken this crisis and the one at his border to awaken him to any more than a passing concern for his own people, it was true, but it existed, dormant though it may have been, and now it burned in him. It was not just him and Maggie anymore. There was a very real chance he would soon have an heir, which implied a future inheritance, and what inheritance would the child have? Either nothing at all, due to being taken by Lyntara, or more likely, a smoking pile of ashes, after their so-called allies finally woke up and saved them from Lyntara and everything got burnt to the bloody ground in the process. Yes, he knew how this worked, how Raiders worked. He still had uncomfortable memories of his own father talking about Lyntara in the sepulcher tones of an undertaker, only after the subject had been properly lubricated with the local gin. This had somehow segued into an impassioned monologue on the virtues of going down with one’s ship.