Page 50 of Untempered
The smell of blood and sweat hit me like a mace, and I left the door wide open, fear rolling through me.
They’d called the Magework Healer, like I’d always said they ought. Healers liked money too much to let their clients die. I’d make the payments, and I’d keep my Rose. It was that simple. I’d find the coin.
But there was no sound from inside my home, and the fear had me by the balls.
I shut the door to keep out the chill in the air and went into our room, forcing my hand to uncoil on the strap of my shield as I set it aside.
Rose lay, almost exactly as I’d pictured her, hair in sweaty ropes, cheeks pale, and dark circles beneath her eyes. Unlike how I’d pictured her, though, tears streaked her face. Her body was curved around a tiny bundle at her side. She was naked beneath the layers of blankets artfully arranged and then pushed away to allow her access to the little one. Linen was piled in the corner, and I couldn’t help but assess the amount of crimson on those sheets.
They’d called the mage. She and the babe were alive. That was what mattered.
The fear shifted to the cost I knew was going to hit us. The cost of fuel to run the fire, and the mouths I’d need to feed. The tinctures for winter ailments, and boots that would keep toes attached to feet.
Pushing it away, I knelt beside the bed, careful not to jostle it and interrupt her sleep. Her eyes drifted open all the same, and a smile touched her mouth. But tears were in her eyes, too, and fear. “I’m so sorry, Tom,” she whispered, the words thick. A single tear spilled over her cheek, following tracks of those that had gone before.
My heart froze. “Why?” I asked her, around the knot in my throat.
“He didn’t work well with me, our son,” she said, the words slow and thick. “He had his own plan, and it was so daft. So daft.” She turned her head, looking down at the sleeping babe. For the first time, I paid attention to the tiny form, so small that I instantly felt like a giant. “I’ve cost us so much,” she said, the words tired and full of grief. “He took everything. The mage.” My heart skittered. They’d given him a down payment, then. Of course they had. He wouldn’t have believed we could pay at all if they hadn’t. “We’ll lose the house. We can’t afford a mage, Tom. You’ll lose us all. It cost too much for the mage. You should’ve gone to the Bonetree.”
“The tree has done enough.” A boy. I didn’t quite know what to do with a boy, after so many girls. My thoughts rushed about like children through market day traffic. I didn’t know what to do about a boy, or bills I couldn’t even fathom. But I knew what to do with my Rose. Taking her hand, I rubbed my cheek against it. “You could never cost me too much, my dear. Not ever. We’ll worry about it all another day. For today, we have everything we need.” I’d make it so.
Her eyes fluttered closed, but tears spilled anew over her cheeks. “You always say that,” she objected, but I could see she was ready to sleep.
“Because I always mean it,” I promised her. “As long as we have each other, we’ll be okay.”
She made a soft noise of agreement, settling deeper into the fall of the bed. I expected her to slide into sleep, but instead she looked up at me, her eyes too bright in their sunken hollows. “We need to leave an offering.”
“Rose.” I struggled against the wave of frustration. “No, we don’t need to do any such thing. Amagehealed you. We’ll pay him, and that’s offering enough.”
Her lashes fluttered closed. “Please.”
I glanced down at the boy held at her breast, his little lips an absentO,so tired was he that he’d come unstuck from my wife’s breast mid-feed.
“Thomas.”
No good came from that cursed tree and superstitious beliefs. But all I wanted was for her to rest.
“Of course,” I lied, pressing my lips to her forehead. In the protection of her body, my son’s little mouth made a few half-hearted sucking motions. I watched the lines in her face smooth as she let herself rest, a little color back in her lips. Even exhausted and scared, she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on, and with nothing else that needed my attention this moment, I let myself sit and drink in the sight of her, filling my heart and ignoring the dark, sickly coil of shame. I didn’t deserve that trust. I’d crossed, then double-crossed, too many people today alone. I’d done too many things I wasn’t proud of.
He owned me now. I was the Duke’s. And that meant she was, and our girls, and this tiny little boy who might be so fine the sun shone straight through him.
“Tom.”
The word was breathy. I hefted myself to my exhausted feet, ignoring the creaking of my bones. “I’m going. I’ll see you soon.” I looked down at the boy, so safely snuggled in with his mother. He’d have to leave her side one day. But, for now, I ran the pad of my thumb over his tiny cheek, marveling at the fine down that covered his body.Stay warm, and eat well.It was the best I could wish for the little fellow.
I knew where Rose kept the offerings she put aside. There were bundles of dirty feathers wrapped in moss, of rosemary stems stripped of leaves, and fish bones so thin and sharp they were dangerous to handle hastily, of thistle stems and broken bits of straw she came across throughout the day. I grabbed one from the small pile of such bundles hidden behind the wooden bread bin. It was easily disguised in my hand, so small and finely made it was.
Outside, the sky was dark and the streets cold. I folded my hands up under my arms, dropped my head, and went toward the gardens.
After the day I’d had, what was a little more treason if it helped my Rose sleep?
CHAPTERNINETEEN
AUDREY
“If you lose your quarry’s track, remember it has not vanished.
Retrace your steps, retry your strategies.” ~ Matri’sion lesson
