Page 173 of Scorched Earth
His mother gave him a dour glare. “If it were Bercola, I would have used her name. He called himself Baird.”
“I know him.” Killian hesitated, then asked, “Do you know where Bercola is?”
“She did not think you’d care to see her. It is my understanding that you had a falling out, but she has refused to give any details. Always taciturn, that woman.” His mother’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “Resolve it. This is not a time to cling to grievances.”
Giving a sharp knock on the blue room’s door, she called out, “It’s Anne, Your Grace. I’ve the dresses you requested.” Not waiting for a response, she went inside.
Gwen and Lena were watching him expectantly.
“You two have it in you to keep guard for another hour?” he asked. “This can’t wait.”
Lena met Gwen’s gaze, then shrugged. “Sure. But only if you promise to listen to your mother.”
Sighing, Killian set off to the parlor, the ancient wooden floor of Teradale creaking beneath his boots as he walked. He leapt down the staircase, circling the servants replacing the flowers in the large vase in the foyer table, green fields visible through the window as he made his way to the parlor.
Baird was pacing nervously back and forth across the room, his face freshly shaven and his clothes newly purchased. Killian was struck with an overpowering wave of cologne as he entered theroom, the scent of bergamot so strong it made his eyes water. “I thought you were still on theKairense?”
The giant ceased his pacing, then crossed the room and lifted Killian in an embrace that made his ribs creak. “I was. Then Lydia told me the news of the progress of the blight and knew that I couldn’t allow my cowardice to get the better of me. Now is the time for boldness. I wish to see my wife.”
Over the bergamot, Killian picked up the scent of whiskey, suggesting that his friend’s boldness was at least half liquid courage. The other half was likely encouragement from the Maarin and Lydia.
“I need to see her, too.” Killian gestured to the door. “And I think I know how to find her.”
They left the manor together, and once outside, Killian lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply.
Baird stared at him in horror. “Are you trying to get us both killed? One does not call a woman like a—”
Socks burst around the corner of the manor, barking happily. “A dog?” Killian supplied. Bending to pet Socks’s thick fur, he said, “Where is Bercola?”
The dog’s ears perked up and, with a yip, he took off running toward one of the pastures. They followed Socks, the herds of Calorian horses lifting their heads from their grazing to eye them a moment before returning to the thick grass. Socks leapt between fence boards and led them into the dense forest beyond, the thick canopy of lush trees casting heavy shadows over them.
“Are you sure this is the right way?” Baird grumbled, mopping sweat from his brow and frowning at a pair of caimans in a slow-moving creek. “This seems the path to getting eaten.”
“They’re harmless.” Killian jumped between rocks, the reptiles retreating into the depths as they passed. “Not so the snakes, so watch where you step.”
Baird cursed under his breath, carefully following Killian as they wove deeper into the jungle. Ahead, a small cabin appeared through the trees, smoke rising from the chimney. Socks darted in the open door, and familiar laughter filtered out from the cabin as Bercola greeted the dog.
“This was a mistake,” Baird declared, and only Killian grabbing hold of his arm and hauling the giant onward kept him from racing back to Teradale.
“It will be fine. I’ll talk to her first. You wait out here and don’t touch anything that wriggles.”
Leaving the anxious giant standing next to a tree, Killian pressed on to the cabin. It had weathered the years surprisingly well, the heavy wooden planks so covered with moss that it nearly blended into the jungle around it. The doorframe looked new and the windows had been replaced—both likely by Bercola’s steady hand. She’d built this cabin when he’d been a boy because she’d not found Teradale, which was sized for humans, particularly comfortable. He’d spent endless hours here to escape the rules governing his behavior that he’d had to endure under his mother’s watchful eye, because the giantess’s only rules had been not to do anything stupid and not to piss her off. Both of which he’d done continually.
Stepping up to the door, Killian knocked on the frame.
Bercola had been on her knees petting Socks, but at his knock, her head jerked up. “Killian.”
“May I come in?”
The giantess got to her feet. “You shouldn’t encourage him to race around the jungle. The caimans have gotten big.” Then she gestured to the pair of oversized chairs next to a table. “Sit. I’ll pour you a drink.”
Socks leapt onto the giant-sized cot on the far side of the room with no care for his muddy feet. Killian took the time to knock the mud off his boots before he came in and climbed into one of the chairs. As tall as he was, his feet still dangled above the ground like a small child’s.
“Gwen and Lena told me you’d returned.” Bercola filled a cup from a small keg of ale, setting it in front of him. “They updated me about what has happened, including about Lydia’s heritage.”
Killian swirled the cup but didn’t drink. “You were right,” he finally said. “Lydia was corrupted.”
Bercola didn’t answer, just took a sip from her cup, her colorless eyes unreadable.
