Neiszhe laughed. Nick and Meaghan shared a smile. Cal continued to speak to his son, his ramblings a welcome change from the quiet that had previously choked the room. Meaghan snuggled under the covers of the cot and monitored the baby's calm, feeling comforted by it, but as she allowed her power to roam, another emotion added to her comfort. Hope. It grew within everyone. The knowledge that Neiszhe and Cal's son would be okay had eased their sorrow. Meaghan sought Nick's hand, threaded her fingers through his, and drifted to sleep.
§
THE SMELLS of Christmas and Meaghan's growling stomach woke her from a nightmare she could not quite remember. Her fingernails cut into her palms, so she forced her fists to uncoil. Her heart raced, so she took controlled breaths to calm it. The adrenaline coursing through her blood ebbed away. In its place, scents of cinnamon and rosemary revived her, chasing away the last of the shadows clinging to her mind. It was Christmas. It had to be. She could smell a turkey roasting in the oven. Baking apples and nutmeg wafted on the air, and if she was not mistaken, so did the faint hint of sweet potatoes. She must have fallen asleep after eating the big breakfast she and Nick had prepared. Dinner would be done soon, and then they would all open their presents. She had purchased a beautiful blue sweater for Nick. It cost a little more than she could afford, but the color had been perfect, and when she touched the delicate cashmere, she had to get it for him. He would love it.
And he had. Well over a year ago. Her sleep-filled mind had confused the past with the present, though she remembered it clearly. The smile on his face had touched her. And when he had thanked her, she could see the joy in his eyes. He had seemed almost childlike that day.
It had been his first Christmas. His first, and her last, though she did not know it at the time. Just like she did not know she had sensed his joy, rather than reading it on his face. Christmas had come and gone, and now she lived in a place that did not celebrate the holiday. Although the heavenly aromas surrounded her, she knew they had to be another part of her memory. She held onto them a moment longer, and then opened her eyes, pushing the memory away. The images dissolved, but the aromas remained.
She turned on her side to scan the room. In front of the fireplace, Nick, Cal, and Neiszhe played with a deck of cards. Cal smiled at her.
“Welcome back,” he said. “I trust you feel better?”
“I do,” she responded. Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her knees and tucked them under her chin. “Did I sleep long?”
“I'd say so,” Cal answered. “Unless you're a bear. You've napped away the last of yesterday and nearly all of today.” He turned his attention back to the cards in his hand. He laid them down face up, and then chuckled when Neiszhe scowled at him. “Did I go out on you again?” he asked. “Sorry.”
“Somehow I doubt it,” Neiszhe muttered. “That's the last time I play Palidane with you.”
“You make that threat every time,” Cal said and collected the cards. Neiszhe crossed her arms over her chest, her face stormy with anger, and a grin spread over his face. “I'll throw the next game if it'll make you feel better.”
Neiszhe huffed and Meaghan could no longer control her laughter. “I can't believe I slept so long,” she said when Cal started dealing cards for another round. “Did I miss anything?”
“Not really. We have a nice feast cooking. I've been drooling over that bird Nick caught since you fell asleep, but he didn't want you to miss it, so last night and most of today we've been eating silten.”
“Don't complain,” Nick said. “You're the one who stocked our supply of it.”
“A decision I heartily regret,” Cal grumbled. “I still don't see why she couldn't make do with cold turkey. It's not our fault she decided to sleep the day away.”
“It's not her fault either,” Neiszhe told him. “Her body needed time to recover from the healing.” She glanced toward Meaghan, her intense focus indicating she did more than study her patient. “I sense you're almost back to normal. How do you feel?”
“Better,” Meaghan responded. “Much better. I haven't felt this refreshed in weeks.”
Cal set the deck of cards down. “Maybe you needed more than recovery time.”
“Maybe,” she admitted. Trailing her eyes to the fireplace, she smiled at the sight of the turkey hanging from the spit. “I thought I imagined the food. I was dreaming about Christmas.” She turned her attention back to the group. “That's a holiday—” she started to explain but stopped when Cal held up his hand.
“Nick told us all about it. It's why we're having the feast. Neiszhe managed to scrounge up some of the dishes he described. You had apples already. They're baking in a sugar and cinnamon mix that I can't wait to try. And we didn't have,” he turned to Nick, “what did you call them?”
“Sweet potatoes,” Nick answered.
“Right,” Cal said. “We don't have those here, but we have something Nick said is similar. Though they're purple, not orange.”
Meaghan grinned. “It smells wonderful.”
“It will be,” Nick told her and retrieved one of his shirts from the table. Instead of folding it neatly, as he usually did with his clothes, he had rolled it into a thick ball. “I thought it would be a nice tradition for us. Just because we don't celebrate the Earth holiday in Ærenden doesn't mean we can't have the same feast. We could make it standard for your birthday.”
“My birthday?” Meaghan asked, dropping her knees in surprise. “That's not until spring.”
“On Earth,” Cal said. “Our calendar doesn't line up with theirs. But if you have any doubts about the date, I was there when you were born. Winter still had us under its control and proved it by dumping a foot of snow on the ground. I guess you thought it was too cold, because you took your lazy time coming into the world.”
“I still don't like the cold,” Meaghan said. “How long was my mother in labor?”
“From bedtime two nights before your birthday until just after the moon rose the day of. Your father wore a hole in the living room rug with his pacing.” Cal laughed. “At least he did after May kicked him out of the bedroom. He was the most nervous father-to-be I've ever seen.”
“Just wait,” Neiszhe said, patting him on the cheek. “I suspect you'll be worse.”
“No chance,” Cal said. “Nothing gets me nervous. I'm a rock.”
Neiszhe grinned. “They all say that. And then they turn into babbling brooks.”
Nick sat next to Meaghan on the cot. He placed his shirt down between them. “We don't typically give gifts here. At least, not in the way you're used to, so we don't have wrapping paper.” He nudged the shirt toward her. “It's the best I could do. You'll just have to pretend. Go ahead. Open it.”
She did as he requested, unfolding the shirt layer by layer until she discovered the most exquisite pair of gloves. Deep burgundy thread contrasted grayish-tan leather, the close stitching indicating a master artisan. She slipped the gloves onto her hands and marveled at the perfect fit. They seemed to be made for her. She wiggled her fingers, relishing in their warmth, and allowed an indulgent smile to cross her face.
“I guess I don't have to ask if you like them,” Nick said. He captured one of her hands in his. Flipping back the cuff of the glove, he exposed the fur lining and ran a finger over it. The fur changed color from pale olive to light tan, the new color trailing his finger like a wave. She studied the effect and then realized what he had shown her. The fur had not simply turned olive, but had matched her skin tone. And wherever Nick's finger touched, it mimicked the tan his hands held from training all day in the sun.
“The ambercat,” she whispered.
Nick nodded. “Cal picked up the gloves from the tailor before he came here.”
She slid them off her hands. “They're beautiful, but I can't wear them. Not when it's my fault the man who made them is dead. I'm sorry.”
Nick clasped one of her hands between both of his. “I understand. But Meg—”
“You'll do no such thi
ng,” Cal interrupted.
Meaghan turned to look at him, surprised when he wiped moisture from his cheeks. “It's not your fault,” he told her. “It's the traitor's fault, whoever it was that let Garon's army into the village. Or if that doesn't ease your mind, you can blame me. But you're not responsible for this. No one even knew you were there.”
“I couldn't blame you,” she protested. “You didn't do anything wrong.”
“Neither did you. Garon could have been getting even for the fire I set to his Mardróch hunting party. Or he could have been after Mycale. Many people feel his father is protecting valuable secrets. Or it could be—”
“Me,” Neiszhe whispered. Her hand shook as she combed it through her hair. “He's always targeted Guardians, and since I wed Cal, I've moved up on his list.”
“That's not—” Meaghan started to protest, but stopped when Cal nodded at his wife in agreement, then raised a hand to her cheek and stroked a thumb across her skin.
“It could be any of us,” he said. “That's the point. We don't know and even if we did, we can't allow Garon to push his guilt onto us. He wants that. He wants us to feel responsible for his actions because it weakens us.” Cal dropped his hand to Neiszhe's leg and left it there. “But the truth is, he won't stop until we're all dead. Once he gets the most powerful of us, he'll move down to those he considers weaker. Then when he gets them, he'll keep going. It's him, Meaghan. He's the one who made the choice to kill our friends, not you.”
Meaghan stared at the gloves clutched in her hand. Guilt tugged at her. While she and Nick had walked to Neiszhe's for lunch on the last day they had been in the village, the tailor had waved at her from his front porch. He had smiled when she lifted her hand and called out a hello in return, then a moment later, he resumed working on the purple velvet dress in his lap.
Cal knelt beside the cot and removed the gloves from her hand. “They fit perfectly,” he told her. “Ebit only had to see your hands to know exactly how to cut these. He was an incredible man with a talent that far surpassed his power.” Lifting Meaghan's hand, Cal slipped a glove over it. “Wear these with pride and remember the man who made them. Remember him for who he was and what he did, not for how he died. That's what he would have wanted.”
She nodded. Tightening her hand into a fist, she stared down at the glove, burning the last image she had of Ebit into her mind.
“Good,” Cal said, and turned to look at Nick. “Be sure to do the same with your pair.”
“I can't,” Nick told him. “They aren't mine.”
Cal raised an eyebrow. “Who else would they belong to? Ebit gave me two pairs.”
“They belong to the person who brought me my first ambercat,” Nick replied. “It's one of my fondest memories and I thought it fitting to return the gesture.”
Cal swallowed hard. “You can't give those to me. They're too rare.”
“It's done already,” Nick said. “Unless my hands grow, the gloves will only fit you.”
“I...geez, lad.” Cal choked up, and then pulled Nick into a crushing hug. “I don't know what to say. Thank you.”
“It's the least I could do,” Nick said and focused his attention on the fireplace. “I think we're due for that feast. Then after we've stuffed ourselves, it's time to teach Meaghan how to play Palidane.”
“What's Palidane?” Meaghan asked.
“A card game. Think of it as a cross between Go Fish and Rummy with a twist.”
“Sounds like fun. What's the twist?”
Nick laughed. “Cal always wins.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THEY SPENT several days in the cabin, taking time to recuperate and reassess their plans. Meaghan knew the break had been necessary, but she still itched to train. As soon as her feet touched the floor at first daylight, she wanted to be outside, running the course or practicing with her weapons. Instead, she controlled the urge by keeping her hands busy. She forced Nick to sit so she could cut his hair, and then cut Cal's at Neiszhe's request and against his protests. She cleaned the cabin, wiping down every surface and scraping dirt from corners that had not seen a rag in years. She prepared the rabbits Nick and Cal caught the first day, roasted the hen they captured the second, and then did her best to make silten palatable on the third day, when they returned empty-handed. Her efforts produced an herbal porridge, which could have done with a few handfuls of cheddar cheese. The missing ingredient did not stop everyone from devouring it.
After dinner, Nick, Neiszhe, and Cal played another round of Palidane while Meaghan paced the room. She could no longer tolerate being inside and the need to get outside commanded her feet to move. Nick watched her over the cards in his hand, his reflection frowning at her from a windowpane when she stopped to stare into the night.
“You look like an animal in one of Earth's zoos,” he said.
“I feel like one.” Clutching her hands behind her back, she faced him. “I have nothing left to do. I need to get back to training.”
“You still need another day or two of rest,” Neiszhe told her.
“I'm fine. It's not like I've been sitting around twiddling my thumbs anyway.”
“No, you haven't,” Neiszhe agreed. She set her cards down on the table. “But what you've done isn't strenuous. Your injuries were severe and you lost a lot of blood. Even though my power can fix those things, your body still needs to recover from the trauma. Running, throwing, and fighting will only tire you.”
“I'd welcome being tired,” Meaghan said and began pacing again. “Right now, I have more energy than I can stand.” She stilled her feet to cast a glance over her shoulder at Nick. “Couldn't I at least go hunting with you tomorrow? You've been promising to teach me.”
“Without the ability to throw or run?” Cal asked. “You'd guarantee another fruitless day.”
She huffed and resumed her movement. Nick dropped his cards onto the table. “I wish you'd stop that,” he said. “You're making me nervous. Come sit with us and play a hand.”
“Sit where?” she asked. Nick and Neiszhe had already taken the two chairs at the table, and Cal sat on an upended bucket.
Nick stood from his seat. Pulling it out, he swept his hand over it in answer. Meaghan sighed and gave in to his request, sliding into his vacated chair. He found another bucket and flipped it over next to her, then sat down.
Neiszhe collected everyone's cards and reshuffled them. “You're used to being active,” she said. “I know it's hard to relax, especially now with everything that's happening, but it's good for you.”
“I know,” Meaghan conceded, and said no more. She had no need. These were her friends, her family. They understood, and the fact calmed Meaghan more than anything else could.
Neiszhe dealt the cards, ten to each person, and Meaghan picked up her hand and sorted it, feeling a surge of hope when she realized she had a shot at beating Cal. Nick's joking had turned out to be true. Cal had not lost a single game in the past three days. His luck frustrated her, and she wondered if people hid cards up their sleeves on this world as they did on Earth.
Nick drew from the deck first and discarded. Cal did the same. On Meaghan's turn, she picked up a card from the deck and realized she needed it. Her excitement grew, as did her luck. Each turn produced something useful. Cards flew from the deck into the discard pile. Grumblings gave way to complaints and laughter. Cal traded a card with Nick. Meaghan stole one from Neiszhe, and then her heart jumped on her next turn when Nick discarded the last card she needed to win. She picked it up, but could not lay her cards down yet. If she did, she would go out, and she still needed to trade a card with Cal.
Cal raised his hand and extended it toward her. “I'll trade for that last card you picked up,” he told her. She cursed and handed it over, taking a useless card from him in turn. He promptly laid down his cards, winning again.
Meaghan sighed. She had scrutinized the man's every move, and despite her suspicions, he had not cheated. He seemed to be as good at strategizing
as his brother, and Meaghan had never been able to beat James at any of the games they played either.
Nick collected the cards and began shuffling. Neiszhe stood. “Does anyone want tea?” she asked.
“Sure,” Cal said. “I think we could all use some.”
Neiszhe crossed the room to put the kettle on the fire, and Cal turned a grin on Meaghan. “I thought for certain you'd figured me out on that play, but you looked pretty upset when I took your card, so I guess not.”
“Of course I looked upset,” she responded, crossing her arms over her chest. “I had the win on my next turn. And what do you mean 'figured' you out?”
“I didn't think my excitement when Nick laid his card down would be hard to sense,” he said. “I'm surprised you didn't leave the card to prevent me from getting it. All you had to do was discard over it.”
She shook her head. “Using my power wouldn't be fair. I don't cheat.”
“I didn't think of it that way,” he confessed. “Though I know you're not the type. Nick told me he hasn't been using his blocking power around you and the doll's on the shelf across the room.” He shrugged. “I just figured you had no choice but to sense our emotions.”
“I can focus on the doll from across the room,” she informed him. “But I don't need it anymore. Didn't Nick explain what happened?”
“It's hard to explain something I don't know,” Nick said. He set the deck of cards in the middle of the table without dealing them. “We haven't had the chance to talk about it yet. What happened when you were turned to stone?”
“You were turned to stone?” Cal asked. He stared at her, his eyes wide in disbelief. “I can't believe Viv told me nothing would happen to you.”
“Nothing did,” she reminded him. “Nothing permanent, anyway. Besides, I doubt I would have figured out how to control my empath power any other way. Every time I became overwhelmed in the past, I'd use Nick's power or escape the situation. Becoming a statue forced me to endure it.”
Aerenden: The Gildonae Alliance (Ærenden Book 2) Page 22