03 - Sworn (7 page)

Cassia sauntered over carrying three plates of food. She handed one to each of us and picked at the stringy meat with her fingers. I dug in as well, but Kel hesitated.

“It’s not bad,” Cassia said. “Really.”

Kel’s normally lovely skin had gone ashen. “I’m sure,” he said.

“You don’t like pig?” I asked.

“We’re just not used to eating them,” Cassia explained. “Fish makes up most of our diet underwater. Raw, but we enjoy it cooked if we’re on land or at the Grotto. Fowl is fine, and we’ve had small animals recently. Kel, you didn’t mind those rabbits.”

“Does pig taste like rabbit?”

“No, but you should try it.”

“I don’t think I have much choice.” He poked at the meat. “We’re out of luck for fish around here. Or vegetables, at least for now.”

There was bread, though, and I offered my share to Kel. He thanked me, and refused. “It’s all about necessity, isn’t it?” He pinched a bit of pork between his finger and thumb, tipped his head back, and chewed carefully.

“It’s different,” he said.

“Bad different?” I asked.

“No. Just different. I could get used to it.”

As with so many other things in life,
I thought as Cassia left us to get back in line for seconds.

“She’s always been more adventurous than me,” Kel said.

“I think you balance each other well.”

“We do work well together when we’re not bickering.”

After the food was gone and the carcasses carted off for soup, the party started. Several members of the community produced instruments from their homes, drums and stringed things and flutes. Kel brightened as they began a light, lilting song.

“Now this is
good
different,” he said.

“Actually, it’s not.” We both turned toward Aren, who wore a pained expression. “Their timing and tuning are both off.”

Kel turned his nose up, but he smiled. “Don’t spoil it, it’s better than nothing. And look how much fun they’re having.”

They were, indeed. The fellow playing the tin pipe bounced on his toes, and the drummers nodded their heads to the out-of-sync beat. The children were the first from among the crowd to start dancing, but as the sun set more adults joined in. They built up the fire that lit the clearing and sent quivering shadows up onto the trees.

“You want to join them?” Kel asked me, sounding only halfway hopeful.

“No. Thank you.” I looked at the ground, where his heels and toes bounced alternately. “But you go. Have fun. Just make sure you come back to me.”

He grinned, kissed me hard, and shot off into the crowd.

“So you don’t like swimming,” Aren said. “And you don’t like dancing.”

“Correct.”

“I’m not going to ask what you have in common.”

I crossed my arms. “That remains to be seen.”

Aren’s lips twisted in a half-smile. “Ah. I’m sure you’ll find something.”

My cheeks grew warm. I had no doubt he was right, but I wasn’t comfortable with that insinuation, especially from him. I scrambled to change the subject. “Where’s Rowan?”

“She decided to go finish setting up our space in the tent. I don’t think she really enjoys crowds and noise any more than you do.”

“And you love them?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “No, but I’m supposed to be visible.” He nodded toward the other side of the fire, where Ulric sat deep in conversation with Goff, Laelana, and Jevan. “I never realized how fortunate I was that Severn let me avoid this kind of thing in the past.”

“He wanted you in the shadows, didn’t he?”

“He did. I think—”

Someone screamed, and the crowd surged away from the fire, headed toward us. Most of them seemed uncertain about what was happening, but were eager to get away from whatever the trouble was. They picked up speed as people closer to the fire shoved from behind. We pushed past the confused and drunken crowd to see flames crackling on the ground, outside of the fire pit and spreading at an alarming pace.

I looked around at the wood huts, the canvas tents, and the dry trees. “This whole place is going to go up.”

“No, it won’t.” Aren’s voice was confident, but something in his eyes betrayed uncertainty even as he stepped toward the flames. Ulric did the same from the other side, where Laelana remained seated, observing him carefully instead of fleeing from the danger. The fire surged up toward the wood pile near the fire pit, and from there toward the lower branches of a tree.

A massive man, stinking of sweat and bad wine, crashed into my side and knocked me down. Several pairs of feet trampled over me, and I curled into a ball with my hands protecting my head and neck. Someone kicked my lower back, and I let out a stream of curses that went unheard.

When I got to my feet again, Aren was gone.

The crowd continued to move away, though a few had turned back to see what was happening at the fire. Someone cried out. A gasp, murmurs, and then a child squealed and clapped. I couldn’t see anything around the pair of tall men that stood in front of me.

A cheer went up. I shouldered my way to the front and found that the flames had disappeared completely. Ulric raised his hands to the crowd, and they hurried forward to thank him. An older woman who had clearly had too much of whatever they were drinking threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. Ulric patted her on the back and smiled, waving off other people’s thanks as though nothing serious had happened.

Aren nodded politely at anyone who spoke to him, but moved swiftly back to where we’d been sitting. He cradled his right hand in his left, and as he came nearer the pain he was trying to hide became clear.

“What happened?” I asked.

He grimaced and held the injured limb out to me. The skin was burned red and blistering from fingertips to forearm, his shirt sleeve singed. “I’m not used to putting out fires I didn’t start,” he explained, “and I’m not even well-practiced at that yet. And Ulric didn’t—” He frowned, hesitated, and looked back at the crowd. “These things happen when you have to try new magic. And at least the people are happy.”

“Come on,” I said, deciding I’d ask later what he’d been about to say about our father. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

I took him by his good hand and led him back toward Mama Bunn’s hut.

The place was dark, and resonant snores drifted out the open window. I placed a finger to my lips and eased the door open. We tiptoed through the main room toward the curtain, making not a sound. Still, the snoring stopped and the old woman sat upright in bed.

“Who’s that?”

“It’s me. Nox.”

“Who?”

“Your new assistant. I just need something from the back. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Fumbling sounds, and the strike of a flint as she lit the lamp. She narrowed her eyes at us, and I realized I was still gripping Aren’s wrist. Mama Bunn’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. “Another one? Really?”

“It’s not like that, Mama. He’s my brother.”

Her jaw dropped again, and she shook her head slowly. “I don’t know how they do things where you come from, young miss, but—”

“No, Mama. Look!”

Aren held out his injured hand.

Mama Bunn sighed and swung her legs out of bed. She poked at the red, blistered skin, and Aren hissed through his teeth. “It’s bad,” she said. “But I have something. Come.”

“I can get it,” I said. “Really, we didn’t mean to wake you.”

The old woman’s eyes disappeared into wrinkled slits. “Fine. You go ahead. Impress me. Your bag is on the table.”

I forced the tension out of my shoulders as I entered the back room, lit the lamp, and discovered my things spread out on the workbench that I had so recently cleaned up. I didn’t care about the mess, as long as everything was still there.

Something to cool the skin and stop the burning,
I thought as I found my ice grass and combined it with the small portion of dimbleberry leaf Mama had on her shelf. I added oil from a half-empty bottle.

Mama grunted. I ignored her.

Next to promote healing, then something for the pain.
Aren’s magic would do most of the work on the former, but I was out to impress her as much as to help him. I deserved better than to be used as a housekeeper.

Minutes later, I had a thick ointment made up. Mama took the bowl from me, sniffed, and nodded. “Not bad. Maybe you’re not useless.” I smiled to myself as she turned to Aren. “You, here.”

Aren stepped closer, and she slapped the salve on his burns. He winced, but didn’t seem like he dared complain. She bandaged his hand more efficiently than I could have, gnarled fingers flying.

And then we found ourselves out the door. Moments later, the snoring started up again.

“So that’s Mama Bunn,” I said.

“I got that.” Aren leaned closer, as though there were someone nearby who might overhear him speaking. “Listen, we need to talk about Ulric. We shouldn’t be wasting our time here. He’s stalling, and I think there’s something wrong with his magic. I was only burned because he left controlling the fire entirely to me. He didn’t even—”

“Aren!” Ulric appeared from the direction of the fire. He crossed his arms and gave us a dark look. “I thought we’d lost you.”

Aren’s features smoothed into a neutral expression. “Thought I’d wandered off?”

Even in the shadows the displeasure that flashed over Ulric’s face was clear. “Just wondered whether you were planning to re-join us. Everyone was so pleased that we saved them. Might as well make the most of it while we have their attention.”

“Good thing
we
did that,” Aren responded.

Ulric frowned. “Let’s go, then.” He nodded politely to me, then led the way back toward the flickering light. Aren followed.

We do need to talk,
I thought, and followed at a slower pace to give them their space. Something was very wrong, and Ulric couldn’t keep me out of it forever.

4

ROWAN

T
he first shriek sounded like a terrified animal, and was quickly joined by more human shouts and cries. By the time I poked my head out of the tent, a stampede had started. A slow one, granted, a jumble of confusion and uncertainty, but the herd had picked up on the idea that something was wrong.

“What’s happening?” I asked a young woman as she passed, hauling a child under one arm.

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. The tent I was to share with Aren sat far enough from the fire pit that though the music had been overwhelmingly audible, the only light in the tent had come from the oil lanterns set up on the roughly sketched street outside. The bonfire now flared high enough that it lit the area, and when I squinted toward it, I caught a glimpse of flames licking at tree branches.

I ducked back into the tent and stuffed everything I had so carefully unpacked back into my bag.

Someone cheered as the light faded, and the crowd responded with happier shouts. I didn’t bother stopping anyone this time as they passed by, but stepped out and headed toward the fire pit. When the crowd became too dense to pass through, I climbed into the lower branches of an accommodating old oak to get a better view. Ulric stood to the left of the fire pit, shaking hands with the people who crowded around him.

Aren was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of my friends.

I supposed I couldn’t count Ulric among that group anymore.

Stop it,
I ordered myself as I went back to the tent to unpack again. A
ren told you exactly what his father was. How he used people, how cold he could be. Well, he used you to escape, and it worked, and now it’s Aren’s turn. It’s not personal.

But it was. I’d known the sting of rejection before. I’d felt it first when my parents sent me to live with my aunt and uncle, rarely visiting. Victoria and Ches and their servants had done much to help with that, and I’d moved past the pain and learned to thrive at Stone Ridge. But lately it seemed everyone was turning on me. Callum, who I’d once planned to marry, had lured me back to Darmid and imprisonment. Felicia, my dearest friend, had offered to shelter me and had instead turned me in. And now Ulric, who had comforted me after my death sentence and had taught me to control my magic, apparently wished I’d just disappear.

Well, I won’t.

I finished re-arranging blankets on top of a pair of large, flat crates and considered climbing into bed. I could have gone back to the party. Judging by the resumed music and hearty laughter, it was going on like nothing had happened. But I’d had a long afternoon of failed attempts at making friends, I’d made the leather-and-dirt scented tent feel as comfortable as I could, and I was ready to rest. I had no desire to dance or mingle, or to see Laelana leaning in too close when she spoke to Aren, resting her hands on his arm and laughing deep in her throat.

And sleep would make for such a lovely respite from the world. Ever since our escape from Ardare I’d felt off. Flat, somehow, and far more exhausted than I should have. The return to Tyrea and its magic had improved my mood and allowed me time to recover, and I was grateful to be back with Aren and our friends. Still, I felt myself slipping.

I just didn’t know into what.

That afternoon, I’d tried to use my magic to call water at the lake. Former lake, really, and now a rotten mud pit. I’d searched hard for water, sending out my magic in an attempt to feel it as I had so easily when we passed under the river in Ardare. There had been a little, deep undergound, and I’d tried to call it up. It hadn’t answered, though I couldn’t say why. I’d expended a great deal of magical energy in the attempt.

Magic that hadn’t replenished. At least, not right away, as it should have from the rich magic of Tyrea. The loss had left a gaping hole in me.

The magic had returned within hours, leaving me feeling as normal as I ever did anymore. I decided I’d try again instead of going to sleep, to see what would happen. There was a good chance, I reasoned, that this was related to my new-found aversion. My fear.

I couldn’t ask Ulric for advice, not with the way he was treating me. Aren would want to know, but I didn’t want to worry him until I was sure there was good reason for it. I thought Nox might have some ideas, but she always looked at me like I was something horrid stuck to her boot.