Page 38 of The Curse of Penryth Hall
“What is it?”
But instead of answering, his shoulders began to shake and then he laughed. A deep, highly inappropriate laugh considering our present circumstances.
“Ruan… what is it? I don’t… I don’t see what’s funny.”
He took in a deep breath, his chest still trembling as he tried to control his very ill-timed amusement. “It’s only that you seeing a woman in the copse narrows it down to precisely half the population of Cornwall as our potential killer.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEENAwful Offal
AFTERhaving come to our uneasy truce, I followed Ruan down the stairs back to the tavern. With each step I took into the main room, every eye seemed to follow me. Hushed voices hunched over ancient wooden tables, casting not-at-all-subtle glances over the rims of their pints. Ruan sat me in a corner near the front window away from most of the patrons. It was dark and grim, though the hearty smells from the kitchen overpowered the room’s lack of visual charms. I rested my elbows on the table in a decidedly un-lady-like manner, waiting until Ruan returned with what appeared to be calf’s liver with a side of kidneys.
“Eat.” He slid the plate before me and plunked down an overfull pint of beer.
I wrinkled my nose.
“You’re ill. Eat.”
“I heard you the first time.” Taking up a fork, I reluctantly cut into the liver. Organ meat was disgusting, but if I was to get a moment’s peace, it was best I heed him in this.
“It’s good for your blood. I have all new mothers eat it for a month after they’re safely delivered. Three times a week.”
I took a bite. Grainy and wet, and I hated every earthy chew. “Three times a week?” I struggled to swallow then took a sip of the beer. That went down much better. “It’s a wonder anyone has a second child.”
He ran a hand through his mostly dry hair. The storm raged on outside the window, pelting the pane. “It helps replace the blood that’s been lost. You should be fine within a week as long as you don’t do anything reckless.”
I scowled and took another bite. “I’ll have you know I am never reckless.”
His mouth curved up into an almost sinful smile as he watched me. I swallowed down a third bite. His expression shifted and he slapped his thigh. “I almost forgot!” He reached into his waistcoat pocket, pulled out a familiar gold chain, and laid it on the table between us.
I greedily snatched it up, rubbing my thumb over the tiny seed pearls set in the gold locket before flicking it open to make sure my eyes were not deceiving me. The warm smiles of my parents gazed back. My eyes grew damp as I snapped it shut and fixed it to my bruised throat. “How did you ever find it?”
“I didn’t. One of the lads from town saw it in the street and gave it to me this afternoon thinking I could find its owner. I recognized you…” He gestured at the locket with his forefinger.
I shook my head, hand still to my throat. “It’s my mother.”
“I know, but you have the look of her.”
My heart ached, and my fingers went to it again, holding the warm metal against my chest. For all he seemed to see through me, I was grateful he didn’t ask more. I hadn’t the strength to speak of them.
“Now eat.”
“I don’t see you eating. Besides, I don’t care much for offal.”
“I wasn’t the one they tried to kill. You need the blood,whether you want it or not.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. Behind him some of the other townsfolk had begun looking at us. Some more obvious than others. I caught the eye of a man—one I recognized from the mob—and stabbed another bite of liver, met his gaze, and plopped it in my mouth with a raised brow.
The man shifted uncomfortably and turned back around.
“You really shouldn’t encourage them, you know.” Ruan’s voice was soft as he leaned close to me before shooting a warning glance of his own over his shoulder.
“But you can scold them with your glower, I suppose?”
“Pellar. I told you I’m given certain license.” That worried crease between his brows had softened a bit.
Despite my argumentative nature, I was grateful for his presence. Pellar or no. Though I’d never admit it to the man’s face. The liver wasn’t quite as awful this time. Then again that probably had more to do with my lack of sustenance than anything else. “You mentioned before that you’d never met anyone else like you.”
He nodded, his eyes fixed on something behind me. “The last known Pellar for miles around died long before I was born.”
It shocked me how freely he spoke of such things, things that other people would only mention in hushed whispers. People here respected him. They came to him for broken hearts and sick children. Or if their crops wouldn’t grow or if the well was dried. In that way, I supposed a Pellar was as much a part of the fabric as a butcher, a vicar, a teacher. Each with a role to play. Although his position was at odds with the modern world. There would always be a place for tradesmen and vicars. But what about witches?
