“Moon’s mercy,” he cursed and jerked backward at the
thought.
She moaned softly in her sleep, her body twitching. Of
what did she dream? Of power and riches like her father? Or
of fear and pain? Which did he wish for her?
“Cold,” she murmured, burrowing deeper into Graham’s
coat.
No fire burned in the chamber’s hearth. Since his departure,
a tenday and four ago, management of the castle had fallen
into further disorder. Exhaustion and frustration dragged at
Kyne. Another problem he must address on the morrow.
Through an open window, damp, chilled air swirled across
his skin. He rose and closed the window. A few minutes after
he started a fire, warmth began to fill the room.
Warda stretched and rose, driven from his spot near the
hearth by the heat. His thick, heavy coat was made to withstand
the harsh mountain elements not the comfort of fireside. When
he padded away, the woman curled even tighter in on herself.
The blaze didn’t seem to warm her.
Kyne hesitated. Should he leave her? Even near the fire,
the stone floor was cold and hard. Could he sleep knowing she
lay shivering? As little as he wanted her in his bed, he couldn’t
allow her to take sick. The decision made, he bent and picked
her up. Surprise and guilty pleasure speared him when she
nestled close and gave a sigh, her breath feathering against his
throat like a warm summer breeze.
Laying her on the far side of the bed, he took off Graham’s
coat and her slippers, then he readied himself for sleep, removing
his outer clothing and boots. When he turned to climb into the
bed, he found her curled in the middle. He pushed her over and
settled himself as far from her as the bed allowed. She wiggled
next to him. Weary of the battle to keep his distance, he let her
be.
Sleep evaded him. Unquenched desire for this woman
would be his penance for failing to protect Aubin.
***
A cacophony of sound woke Sianna. The ring of swords.
Voices raised in argument. A clatter of feet and hooves on
stone. She blinked the sleep from her eyes. Sunshine poured in
through the window, filling the chamber with a cheerful glow.
An omen of things to come?
She sat up. Her limbs protested the sudden movement, and
she groaned. Sleep restored only a bit of her strength. Last
eve’s exertion combined with long days of unaccustomed activity
left her bruised and sore. The soft mattress beneath her cradled
her aching limbs. She smiled in contentment. While she slept,
Kyne had moved her from the cold hard floor.
The urge to curl back under the covers fought with her
wish to start the day and make a place for herself here among
Kyne’s people. Judging by what she had seen on her arrival,
there was much for her to do. She could not lie abed waiting
for her body to catch up with her mind.
Later she’d hunt up a bath and clean clothing. For now, she
settled for a quick wash from the basin of water she found
near the hearth. The cool water felt good against her grimy
skin. With Kyne’s comb she smoothed most of the tangles and
dust from her hair, then straightened her borrowed attire as
best she could. Her stomach rumbled. Putting on her slippers
she left the chamber in search of first meal. Warda followed
quietly.
Outside the chamber door, the noise level increased, and
the stench of charred meat, singed fur and other less pleasant
odors hung thick in the air. Even if she would eat meat, the
smell did little to tempt her appetite. Resting her hand on Warda’s
head, she moved down the hall.
At the top of the stairs she paused. Worse than she
remembered, chaos reigned in the great hall. A hundred or more
people milled about. Off to the left, people too weak to move
lay on pallets. Her need to help these people drew Sianna
forward. She stopped. First she must eat and gain strength. If
she collapsed, she would be of no aid.
In the center of the hall two men, actually lanky boys no
older than ten and four annum, fought with swords. Around
them others scrambled to avoid being trampled or skewered by
assumed the boys merely practiced rather than fought in earnest.
To the right, women tended to a group of children. As Sianna
reached the bottom of the stairs, one child, a boy of about six
annum, stepped away from the rest, right between the two
combatants.
A woman screamed. The boy froze, eyes wide in terror as
a crystal sword swept toward his head. Momentum prevented
the sword wielder from checking his swing.
Just before the sword made its pass through the boy’s neck,
Sianna lunged forward and knocked him to the floor. Heart
racing, she lay atop the now crying child. Hands reached for
her, pulling her up. Voices babbled, but she couldn’t hear over
the thundering of her heart and the whistling sound of the sword
rushing over her head. She stood shaking in the center of a
group of people.
“Silence!” Kyne’s roar echoed off the stone walls until
only the child’s whimpers remained.
Like a crystal flower seeks the sun, Sianna turned toward
Kyne, her body swaying in reaction and relief.
“What goes on here?”
Another swell of sound started. “Quiet! You.” He pointed
at the woman cradling the crying child. His voice dropped to a
gentler note. “Tell me what happened.”
The woman stuttered her reply, clutching her uninjured child
to her ample bosom. With every word, Kyne’s gaze grew harder.
When she finished, he turned toward the two boys, playing as
men, who stood awkwardly holding their swords.
“The rest of you go about your business. You two, stay.”
Without protest, the crowd dispersed. They talked in hushed
tones, the bustle of the hall muted by the near tragedy.
On quivering legs Sianna started to back away as well, but
Kyne reached out and pulled her to his side, an arm wrapped
around her waist. Shaken, she accepted his body’s warmth and
support. A split second later and the boy’s head would have
been severed from his body. She shuddered, and Kyne’s arm
tightened. With a sigh she leaned into him.
“Come,” he commanded the boys and led them out of the
hall. He pulled Sianna along. In the castle courtyard he stepped
away from her and turned on the boys. “Fighting in the hall.
You are beyond foolish.”
“We only want to learn, Rul,” one boy spoke defiantly. “We
meant no harm.”
“Is that what you would tell the lad’s mother when her
child lay dead, his severed head at her feet?”
The boy blanched. The other boy, the one who had swung
the sword, turned and vomited onto the cobblestones. Sianna’s
empty stomach churned at the image Kyne’s words invoked.
Thank the moons she’d been quick enough to avert t
he tragedy.
“You wish to learn to fight. Very well. Graham,” he called.
Graham stepped forward out of the crowd and looked at
the two white-faced, trembling boys. “Yes, Rul?” Sianna could
feel his repressed humor.
“I have two new recruits for you. See that they begin
training immediately. In the yards, not the hall. Pay special
attention to this one’s aim.” He pointed at the sword wielder,
then turned back to Sianna. “You have my thanks for your
timely intervention.”
His stiff, reluctant words left a sour taste in her mouth. He
didn’t want to thank her, but he felt he must. “To have worth,
gratitude must be freely given.”
Anger swiftly followed surprise in Kyne’s eyes. “You dare
much.”
Though her body still quaked, she met him stare for stare.
“The condemned have little to lose.”
“Father! Father!” Zoa cried. “I saw it. Sianna saved Titus.
She’s a hero, isn’t she Father? Just like Cimene, the goddess
who rescued the moons from being devoured by the darkness.
Now you have to give Sianna a reward, like Sol rewarded
Cimene.”
Like a fresh breeze, Zoa’s excitement dispelled the tension.
Sianna smiled.
Zoa stopped for a moment to cough, but Sianna was pleased
to note it sounded much better. A few more healing sessions,
and Zoa’s health would be fully restored.
“A reward, Father. Give Sianna a reward.” Zoa turned her
gaze on Sianna. “You are brave. Just like Father.”
“I’m not all that brave. Anyone would have done as I did, if
they had been close enough.”
“If I were brave and deserved a reward, I would choose a
quinar of my very own. Would you like a quinar? Beba just had
two foals.”
Kyne frowned. “A quinar is not possible.”
Because of Zoa, Sianna didn’t voice her hurt at his attitude.
Other than being born her father’s daughter, she’d given Kyne
no reason to distrust her. Remembering her charade of being
Laila, and all he thought her sister had done, her resentment
faded.
“Zoa is right.” Kyne’s softer tone drew her gaze. “You
deserve not only sincere gratitude, but a reward for saving the
lad’s life at the risk of your own.”
“There was no risk,” she objected.
Kyne shook his head. “The blade missed your head by a
mere hair. In fact.” He reached out and pulled her tangled hair
forward.
Sianna swayed as she saw where a clump of hair had been
neatly sliced away. His hand on her arm steadied her. Death
had come so close. Would he care? Her gaze clashed with
Kyne’s, but she saw no answers in his dark eyes.
“What reward do you claim for your deed? Demand
anything but your freedom, and I will see you receive it.”
“I require nothing for doing what is right.”
“Choose. A Cathor always pays his debts.”
Sianna shivered at Kyne’s harsh tone, knowing he referred
to more than this small obligation. What should she request?
Whatever she asked, he would grant, no matter what it might
cost him. Her life? Laila’s? Her father’s?
“I wish to be allowed to work with your healer.”
A flicker of disbelief crossed Kyne’s face, then he smoothed
his features into an expressionless mask. Why couldn’t she
read this man’s emotions? Since their brief connection, she had
felt nothing of his inner thoughts. Judging him based on his
words and actions alone left her floundering in the dark as if
she were suddenly blind.
“That’s all you want?” Zoa sounded disgusted and
disappointed.
“And a baby quinar.”
Before Kyne could deny her request, Sianna hurried on.
“Of course, I’d need someone to help me care for it, because I
don’t know anything about quinar. If Rul Cathor gives his
permission, would you be willing, Zoa?”
“Oh, yes! Yes. Please say yes, Father. I’ll take ever such
good care of Adda for you.”
Kyne’s lips twitched as though he saw through Sianna’s
ploy, but he managed to keep a straight face. “Very well, Sianna
may have the quinar foal, if you agree to care for it for her.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Zoa threw her arms
around Kyne, then Sianna. Before either could respond she
whirled and raced away, her dark hair bouncing as she ran. “I
told Etam I’d get a quinar before him.” Her words flew back at
them.
“Adda indeed. The little minx played us both for fools, and
you went right along with her.”
Even though the look of affection in Kyne’s eyes was for
Zoa, Sianna found it ample payment for her small trick. “Does
it matter? You intended to give the foal to her anyway.”
“Yes, but how...never mind.” He stared at her, his features
once again stern. “Why do you wish to work with the healer?
Why not request a pardon for your crimes?”
“Since I’ve committed no crimes, I hardly feel the need for
a pardon.” She ignored the growing twitch at the corner of his
mouth and continued, “I requested what I truly desire. I am a
trained healer. I would put my skills to use where they are
sorely needed. And I would not have you make a promise you
might not be able to keep.”
“What I promise, I deliver.”
“I know.” He would deliver or die in the trying. After all
the things her father had cost this man, she would not ask him
to forfeit his honor.
Without a word, he turned and led the way back into the
great hall. Sianna scurried to keep up with his long strides.
Somehow her failure to request a tangible reward irritated him.
Could she never please this man?
He halted amid the scattered pallets filled with the sick and
injured. For a moment, compassion replaced his hard look, then
he turned toward her and his annoyance resurfaced. “Althea, I
have brought you an assistant. This is Sianna. Make use of
her.” With that he turned and walked away.
Bent with age, her hair the color of a stormy sky, the healer
didn’t rise from the chair where she dozed. She looked up and
nodded her acceptance of Sianna’s help. Weary resignation
resided in the old woman’s eyes and soul.
“Will you let me help you, Healer?”
Althea stood slowly, her gaze probing Sianna. She touched
her gnarled fingers to Sianna’s cheek. “Many have died because
I am too old and my skills are too meager to save them. You are
young to be a healer. Are you trained?”
“I studied at the valetudinarian of the Sisters of Light.”
A spark of hope flared in the old woman’s eyes. “Yes, I
can feel your fire to heal. Once I had such.” She shook her
head. “But too many years and too many failures can smother
a person’s flame.”
Hunger gnawed at Sianna, but the pain and feelings of
desperation coming from the ill and injured would not let her
walk away. What to d
o first?
She clasped Althea’s hands between her own. “Perhaps
together we can fan the embers to life.”
“Perhaps,” Althea agreed with a grin.
***
Two hours later, Sianna straightened from cleaning and
organizing the castle infirmary. Fortunately, there was no critical
need for her special skill. For now, Althea’s herbal remedies
would suffice.
The growing ache in her belly forced Sianna in search of
food. Grease and bits of rotting food covered the kitchen work
tables and cooking surfaces. Hounds slunk between the table
legs looking for scraps, while unknown brown shapes scurried
in the shadows. She gagged on the smell of rancid food, burnt
meat and general decay, her appetite fading.
A plump woman rushed up to Sianna and grabbed her hand.
“My Lady. How can I ever thank you for saving my boy, Titus?
Since DiSanti conscripted my man and two older sons, he’s all
I have left. Our lives are yours.” The woman knelt at Sianna’s
feet and pressed her forehead to Sianna’s hands.
Gently, Sianna pulled the woman up. “Raising your boy to
be a fine man is thanks enough.”
“Do you wish mid-meal? Rul Cathor said not to disturb you
for first meal. Surely you are hungry now. I’m called Betha. I
can prepare something for you, if you like.”
“Do you work in the kitchen?”
“No, my lady.”
“Who is in charge?”
“I don’t believe anyone is. Each of us prepares our own
meals. Come. I have cleared an area where you can sit and
eat.”
Betha led Sianna through the cluttered maze of a kitchen
toward a quiet corner. At a small, clean table sat Titus. He
smiled shyly and ducked his head to his meal. The spicy aroma
of stew reached Sianna’s nose, making her stomach growl and
mouth water.
“Please sit, my lady. Would you like some bread? I made
fresh this morning. Some stew? It’s meatless, but quite tasty
anyway.”
“Thank you, Betha. Both would be lovely.”
Like crystallized honey, the food melted in Sianna’s mouth.
For a moment she forgot the squalor of the kitchen and savored
her meal. As she ate, people approached Betha for directions:
how to cook a rack of meat, mix a loaf of bread, where to find
the flour, sugar, salt. Replete, Sianna leaned back and looked