CHAPTER
8
HEATH CAUGHT HIS
BREATH AS THE DOOR OPENED and his mother came into the room. He
hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until she stood there,
tray in hand, with an apron over her dress.
“I’ve brought more
broth, Master Healer,” Anna said as she entered. She hadn’t seen
Heath yet. “How does my lord husband?”
Eln shut the door
swiftly behind her.
“They followed me,”
Anna said in an offended whisper. “One of Lord Durst’s men, up from
the kitchens, if you can believe.”
Eln took the tray.
“Anna—”
“Standing around my
kitchen, eating my food, disrupting my staff,” Anna growled. “I’ll
see to it that their bellies—”
“Anna,” Othur said.
“Anna, look who’s—”
“Mama?” Heath said
softly.
His mother’s head
turned, and her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open. Her lips
moved, but no sound came out. She just held open her arms in a
longing plea.
Heath walked into
them and swept her into a hug as she clasped him tight. He felt her
body start to shake as she began to weep—great sobs that shook her
entire body.
“Mama, mama, it’s all
right.” Heath’s voice cracked. “I’m here, I’m here.”
“My baby, my baby.”
Anna lifted her tear-stained face to look at him. “Goddess, Lady of
the Moon and Stars, thank you, thank you. Oh, my son, I thought I’d
never see you again.”
“I’m home, Mama,”
Heath whispered. “And Lara will be here tomorrow.” He hugged her
tight, then eased up, letting her get her breath. “Healthy, happy,
and as big as a cow.”
“Heath!” Anna stepped
back, wiping her eyes. “You best not have said that to
her!”
“No.” Heath grinned
at his mother. “But you’ll agree.”
“No, no.” Anna shook
her head. “You never say that to a pregnant lady. The very
idea—”
She stopped in
mid-sentence and stiffened, her eyes going over Heath’s shoulder.
“What’s she doing here?”
OTHUR GAVE ATIRA
QUITE A BIT OF CREDIT. SHE only snarled and put her hand on her
dagger hilt. Far better than he expected.
“You have a lot of
nerve, showing your face here after luring my son off, chasing
after you like a dog chases after a bitch—”
Othur moved, then, to
take his wife by the shoulders. “Anna, that’s enough. You must
return to the kitchens. The man that followed you here will leave
with you. That will clear the way for Heath to return to Lara with
our warning.”
Anna’s glare was hot,
but Othur had years of experience dealing with it. He just turned
her toward the door. “Come, my love. Heath will be here officially
tomorrow. That’s time enough for this conversation.”
“I’ll go with Anna,”
Eln said. “Escort her to the kitchen, get some more
medicines.”
“And no doubt eat
your own meal,” Othur grumbled.
“A Master Healer
needs to keep up his strength,” Eln agreed. “Come,
Anna.”
“Very well,” Anna
sniffed.
Eln and Anna slipped
through the door together—Anna still weeping, Eln offering quiet
reassurances as to Othur’s health.
Othur pulled Heath
and Atira over to the hearth and lowered his voice. “Time for you
both to go. Make sure that Lara makes a big impression during her
entrance tomorrow.”
“I think she planned
on it,” Heath said.
Othur nodded. “I will
make a miraculous recovery a day or two after her return—attributed
to Eln’s amazing healing powers, of course. Or
Lara’s.”
He reached for
Atira’s hand. “You’ll forgive my ladywife? She loves Heath, and it
may take time for her to adjust to this idea.”
“Idea?” Atira looked
confused. “Idea of what?”
“Ah.” Othur glanced
back between the two of them. “Well, that will wait as well. Best
be on your way.”
Atira went to blow
out the candles, leaving only the fire in the hearth to light the
room. Othur reached to give Heath a hug at the same time his son
reached out for him. He gave thanks to the gods at his son’s
return, as those strong arms held him close.
“Go, go,” Othur said,
stepping back into the shadows behind the door.
With that, they were
gone, closing the door behind them.
Othur sighed, then
picked up the tray that Anna had brought and went over to the fire.
He sat, replacing the blanket so that he looked the proper invalid,
and took up the bowl of broth. It tasted fine; for all of her sharp
tongue, his Anna was an excellent cook.
Othur settled into
the chair with a sigh of pleasure. Heath had returned from the
Plains, and he looked fit and healthy. Lara would be back tomorrow,
and that was cause for joy, and not just because she bore a babe.
She and her Warlord would deal with the governance of Xy, with
Othur in the background where he belonged.
Othur grimaced as he
contemplated the amount of work that would be waiting for him. But
Heath had been trained in a Seneschal’s duties; perhaps he could
take over some of the tasks. Captain of the Castle Guard would be a
good start.
Maybe he could start
to recover tomorrow, and at least call for real food again. He was
fairly sure he could eat a haunch all by himself, and a few loaves
of Anna’s good bread.
Provided her bread
was good. Anna’s cooking tended to sour when she was unhappy, and
she was not happy about Atira’s role in Heath’s
departure.
But then again, it
seemed that Atira was uncertain as to her place in Heath’s
life.
Well, one thing was
sure. He’d seen the look in his son’s eyes, and he knew full well
that Heath had lost his heart.
Othur decided to
concentrate on enjoying his broth. These things all tended to work
themselves out one way or another, and worrying wouldn’t make
anything happen any faster.
“WHAT GIVES HER THE
RIGHT TO TALK THAT WAY?” Atira demanded.
They’d returned to
the pines with little more than silent steps through dark halls and
whispers to the palace guards. The only delay had been in the last
room, the one that Heath claimed as his own. He’d paused, rummaging
in one of the trunks, removing something that he’d bundled up and
brought with him.
The horses were
resting undisturbed where they’d left them. Heath had filled a
waterskin with cold water from a creek, and they had gurt and dried
meat to share. The stars gave enough light to see by as they
settled under the pines.
“You ever see a
warrior about to make a mistake, and care enough to stop them?”
Heath asked.
“Of course.” Atira
took a drink from the waterskin.
“Well, take that care
and turn it into a herd of thundering horses, and you have a
mother’s care. That’s what makes her think she has the
right.”
“Think?” Atira asked
slyly.
“My mother doesn’t
decide how I live my life,” Heath said firmly. “I do.” He took the
waterskin from her. “Clouds are moving in; it will be pitch dark in
a few hours. We’ll bed down here and sleep until first light. With
any luck, we can get back to camp before they’ve had their
kavage.”
Atira nodded. There
was no sense risking the horses in the dark. She offered Heath her
pouch of gurt, but he shook his head, so she tucked it back into
her saddlebag. “What’s in that bundle that you brought from the
castle?”
“Something for
tomorrow.” Heath stood. “I’ll get our bedrolls.”
“We should share,”
Atira stood, brushing pine needles from her trous. “For
warmth.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” Heath repeated.
“If you are not interested in a life with me, Atira of the Bear,
then no, I am not going to let you string me along like a spare
mount.” He appeared out of the darkness, and dropped the bedrolls
at her feet.
“I am not
string—”
“Yes, you are,” Heath
said calmly. “I want a life with you, not just sharing.” He looked off in the direction of the
castle. “I’d also forgotten . . .”
Atira waited, but
Heath just shook his head and knelt down to spread out his bedroll
in silence. “Forgotten what?” she asked.
For a moment she
thought he wasn’t going to answer her, but then he sighed. “I’d
forgotten that once I was back in the city, I’d be expected to
return to my duties. My responsibilities. Serving in the Guard.
Aiding my father.” Heath frowned at the blankets in his hands.
“There’s something going on in the castle and it’s my job to
prevent it.”
“The Warlord will
protect the Warprize from any threat, as will all of his warriors,”
Atira pointed out.
“You’ll protect her
from any threat you see,” Heath corrected her. “But it’s a very
different world from the Plains, and I can detect unseen
threats.”
“Not so different,”
Atira sighed. “The Council is sundered, and warrior fights warrior
now.”
“True enough,” Heath
said. “Dangers all around, I fear.”
“But for this night,
we are safe enough,” Atira said. “We are off the path, and the
horses will warn of any approach. No need to keep
watch.”
Heath nodded and
unbuckled his sword-belt. Atira stepped closer and put her fingers
on his. “We’re not within those walls, my city-dweller. And I am
here . . . and I want you.”
“Atira,” Heath’s
whisper was a breath on her cheek. “Tomorrow . . .”
“Who can say what
tomorrow will bring?” Atira asked, then pressed her lips to
his.
For a moment, she
feared he’d resist her or push her away. But then his lips opened
under hers.
“I want you,” Heath
groaned.
“You have me,” Atira
said, pressing as close as armor allowed.
“No, I don’t,” Heath
said. “But if I can’t have you, I can have this night . . . this
memory.” He claimed her mouth then, a kiss that seared her soul.
Atira gasped against his lips as he crushed her in his arms.
“You’ll not forget this night, my lady.”