Healer's Touch (16 page)

The day dawned gray and muggy, and the house was still quiet when Marius rose. He knocked on Drusus’s door to wake him and headed to the kitchen to see what was left over from yesterday. Half a melon, two rolls, and a bit of cheese—slim pickings. Drusus might eat all that on his own and ask for the main course.

Marius went to the cellar and selected cornmeal, honey, salt, and a jar of bacon fat. Corn cakes weren’t fancy, but he doubted Isolda or Rory would turn their noses up at them, and he knew Drusus wouldn’t.

He’d just heated up the pan and was about to drop some batter into it when Drusus completed his perimeter check and strolled in. “There’s something you need to see.”

“Can it wait?” said Marius, eyeing his hot pan.

“No.”

Marius took the pan off the fire and followed Drusus, who led him out the front door. It was a typical Sage’s Day morning, if a bit cloudy. Almost nobody was out on the street. “What am I looking for?”

“Behind you.”

He turned and saw something hanging from his front door. “What in the Sage’s name?” He leaned in for a closer look. It was a rat, tied by its grotesquely broken neck. “A child’s prank?”

“Hardly,” said Drusus.

“You’re saying it’s because of Isolda.”

Drusus slid the string off the door lever and stepped away to toss the rat into the alley. “This has become a security concern, one I have to tell the emperor about.”

Marius was less than enthusiastic about bringing the emperor into this. He hadn’t been looking forward to telling Lucien that he’d hired an illegal Sardossian refugee. And yet he could hardly prevent Drusus from performing his job as a Legaciattus. “Do what you must.” He went back inside and put his pan on the fire.

Drusus followed him into the kitchen. “They hung the rat here, not at the surgery, which means they’ve been watching us. They know Isolda’s at the villa.”

“Such courage they have, killing a rat,” said Marius.

“Doesn’t mean they won’t do worse next time,” said Drusus. “Are you going to tell her?”

“About the rat?” He sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to.” He would need to offer her some kind of protection, such as an escort to and from work, until this blew over. But he’d rather it wasn’t their first topic of conversation when she got up this morning. He had so few chances to talk to her outside of a business setting, and he wished that for once they could just enjoy their time together instead of having it ruined by a couple of bigots.

“I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn’t report it,” said Drusus.

Marius dropped three spoonfuls of batter into the pan and watched them sizzle in the bacon fat. “I said you should do what you must. But I don’t care what the emperor says; I’m not firing Isolda.”

“You could pay her off,” said Drusus. “She needs money, after all. Then you can find someone else to be your business manager.”

“Pay her off, as if she were a mistress I’d become ashamed of?” Marius gave his bodyguard a look. “What sort of man would I be to cower in fear over two drunken oafs?”

“It’s not just your safety at stake. It’s hers.”

“Those two might leave her alone if I send her away, but she’ll still be in danger from the thousands of other men who hate Sardossians.” Marius flipped the first batch of corn cakes. “When she’s with us, at least she has some protection.”

“My job is to protect
you
,” said Drusus. “I can’t look after her.”

“Then I will,” said Marius.

∞

Isolda lay in Marius’s guest bed, watching the windows lighten in a gray, indistinct sunrise. She’d tossed and turned last night, thinking of Marius, but her unrequited longing could not keep her up indefinitely. The bed was more comfortable than the one she slept in normally, and exhaustion had overtaken her. Now she just wanted to lie here forever.

Today was Sage’s Day, the one day of the week the surgery was closed. There had been no days off at the gunpowder factory, nor at Jauld’s store. But gods, it made a difference to have a day of rest.

She put on a spare syrtos the servants had left for her. It was a man’s syrtos, probably belonging to Marius, and huge on her. She doubled up the fabric and tied it firmly with the belts. The garment smelled of him.

She went in to breakfast. Rory, who’d shared the guest room with her, had risen an hour earlier. He was sitting at the table with Drusus and Marius, scraping up the last bits from his breakfast plate. Rory greeted her with a cheerful, “Good Sage’s Day.” Drusus’s plate was clean too, but Marius had no plate at all.

“Ah, you’re up,” said Marius. “I didn’t want you to eat alone, so I waited.”

“I ought to have been up earlier.” She hadn’t considered that Marius would go hungry waiting for her.

“You needed your sleep,” said Marius.

“Hey, kid,” said Drusus to Rory. “You ever groomed a horse?”

Rory shook his head. “We’ve never had a horse.”

They’d had two at one time, when they’d lived with Jauld in Sardos, but Rory must not remember; he’d been too young.

“Marius keeps a couple of them in the attached stable. I’ll introduce you, and Rufus will teach you how to groom.”

Rory banged the table with his knees in his haste to get up. He and Drusus left.

Isolda hadn’t known Marius kept horses. She kept adjusting her estimation of his wealth higher, but his money couldn’t come from his business, which hadn’t been profitable until recently. So it had to be family wealth. And then there was that strange bit about his receiving training in the darker forms of healing magic, when most Healers-in-training did not.

It occurred to her that she and Marius were now completely alone. For all the time she’d spent with him at the surgery, she had seldom been alone with him longer than a minute or two. Drusus was always around, and sometimes Rory. She felt suddenly shy, but forced herself to make conversation. “I’m glad you fed Rory straightaway—the boy is insatiable.”

“Because he’s so sturdy and healthy. Do you like corn cakes?” asked Marius. “The cook’s off duty today, so you’ll have to put up with a bachelor’s efforts.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever had them,” said Isolda. “But I’m willing to try.”

He left the dining table and returned carrying two plates. He set one of them in front of her.

Two corn cakes were stacked on her plate, along with some sliced fruit. She cut into the first corn cake, and it flaked beautifully. “This bachelor’s effort doesn’t look so amateurish to me.”

He shrugged. “For years, I cooked all my own meals. I’m a bit repetitive in my tastes, though. Corn cakes most mornings, soup most evenings.”

“I can see why you’d eat these most mornings. They’re delicious.”

“They’re simple, I know—not a lot of flavor—”

Isolda raised another bite to her mouth. “They’ve got a lovely, delicate flavor, and if you added anything stronger you’d overpower it.”

He grinned. “Thank you. Is that my syrtos you’re wearing?”

“It must be,” she said. “Arrod loaned it to me.”

“I like it on you.”

Isolda’s cheeks warmed, and she looked down at her plate. That sounded a little bit flirtatious. But Marius wouldn’t flirt with someone like her. She was letting her imagination run away with her.

“Do you enjoy working at the surgery?” asked Marius.

“It’s the best job I’ve ever had.”

“You’re marvelous at it,” said Marius. “Hiring you was the best business decision I ever made. I like you, Isolda. I mean, I like your work. I mean—” He cleared his throat. “There’s so much about you I don’t know.”

Isolda was wary. “Such as?”

“What do you want out of your life here?” asked Marius. “I know you’d like Rory to go to the university and become a warder, but what do you want for yourself?”

“I’m happy doing what I am now.”

“I’m glad, but that’s not what I meant,” said Marius. “You seem to be directing your energy toward Rory and his future, but do you plan to marry again? Go back to Sardos at some point?”

She shook her head. Perhaps Marius was worried she’d find a better situation and leave the surgery, but that wasn’t going to happen. Opportunities for her were thin; she was lucky to have any job, let alone one this perfect. “I’m never going back to Sardos. As for remarrying...” She winced. “I was fortunate to marry once. It won’t happen again.”

“Why?”

Her stomach clenched, and she put down her spoon. “I’m twenty-six. I have an eight-year-old child. I’m Sardossian. And I’m...” She couldn’t choke out the words
not pretty enough.
“I’m not the sort of woman men are looking for.” She couldn’t believe she was confessing to Marius her great shame, that for all her skills and talents she was worthless as a wife. She was focusing her efforts on Rory because he still had a future. She, at age twenty-six, was washed up.

“I think you underestimate yourself.”

She shook her head. “One can dream, but what’s the use if the dreams can’t come true? I’ll always be an outcast in Kjall. As for remarrying, if I were prettier I might think differently about my chances of finding someone—”

“Oh, but you’re beautiful,” said Marius.

Isolda fell silent. It was kind of Marius to say, but she knew better.

“I mean it,” said Marius.

“I’ve accepted what I am,” she said finally. “You don’t need to pretend, to say things that aren’t true in order to spare my feelings—”

“I’m not sparing your feelings,” said Marius. “I didn’t see your beauty when I first met you, but now I wonder how I ever missed it.”

Tears filled her eyes.

A lump bobbed in Marius’s throat, and he took a shaky breath. “I was thinking we should go out for dinner sometime. Away from the surgery, just you and me.”

Isolda could not answer; her mind was a whirl of confusion and questions. Was he trying to seduce her, and to what end? As much as she wanted him, sleeping with her boss could only hurt her. It was like walking blindfolded into a busy street—even if she managed not to get hit by a wagon, she was sure to step in horseshit.

He wasn’t going to marry a woman like her, so any affair they might have must be short lived. Could she bear it when he let her go in favor of someone else, perhaps his future marriage partner, a woman sure to be prettier and more sophisticated? It had happened to her once before, and she had barely survived it. And that was with Jauld, a man she’d never cared for. If Marius, this man that she admired and loved so deeply, found his marriage partner and set her aside, she would be devastated. Better to be alone in life than to risk that.

She was, perhaps, being unfair; Marius was not Jauld and would never be cruel or thoughtless. But one didn’t extend a marriage proposal out of kindness or pity. Marius would never marry someone as beneath him as she was.

“I’m sorry,” said Marius. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. It’s all right to say no. I don’t want to be like that man you worked for at the gunpowder factory—”

“Oh,” said Isolda. “You are nothing like him.”

“But I’m making you uncomfortable?”

She looked down at her hands. “It’s complicated. I’d like to go to dinner with you sometime, but I don’t know if I can do this again. Not after...” She trailed off, choking on the painful truth.

“You mean after your husband died? I’m so sorry.”

Marius had it wrong. That wasn’t the reason, and as far as she knew, Jauld was still alive. She’d entered the marriage in good faith and given him everything. And then he had betrayed her in every possible way. Her throat caught as the pain of the last ten years rose up like bile, and she choked out a sob.

Marius was out of his seat in an instant, gathering her into his arms. “Gods, Isolda, I should never have mentioned—you must miss him terribly.”

She shook her head violently and buried her face in his shoulder. “I don’t miss him at all.” Poor, dear Marius. He had everything backward, and it was her own gods-cursed fault for not telling him the truth. She was still married! If she slept with Marius or any other man, she’d be committing adultery, a capital crime in Sardos. Divorce, too, was illegal there. Sardossian law had her tethered to Jauld for the rest of her life.

Marius stroked her back as he held her. “Is that what’s upsetting you? If he didn’t treat you well, then it’s perfectly natural you wouldn’t miss him. You shouldn’t feel guilty about that.”

He still had it wrong, and no wonder, when she was giving him lies upon lies. But she couldn’t tell him she was married. What if that changed his opinion of her? What if he believed she was wrong to abandon her husband, and especially to take Rory away from his father? She’d violated half a dozen laws in coming to Kjall. Marius was a respected, well-connected Kjallan, and a deeply moral man. He also had a supportive family, and he might not comprehend what it was like to be alone in the world.

In her situation, there had been no good answers. Backed into a corner, she’d done what she had to do. But with a single visit to the authorities, he could erase everything she’d accomplished and have her sent back to the hell that was her old home.

“
Did
he treat you badly?” asked Marius.

“Yes.” That seemed safe to say, and it was true.

Marius tilted her chin up so that he was looking her in the eye. “I would never treat you badly.”

Isolda opened her mouth to reply—
I know you wouldn’t
—but she could not stop staring at Marius’s lips, so close and inviting. They were mostly dry and soft, but a shiny spot of moisture had formed in the middle of his bottom lip. She wanted to lick it. A shiver of desire snaked from her core up through her spine. She wanted nothing more than to go to bed with this man, and to Soldier’s Hell with the consequences.

Marius leaned down and kissed her. She found her lips moving to meet his.

With Jauld, she’d always hesitated a bit, knowing the kiss was obligatory. Jauld had chosen her—perhaps because she was all he could afford, but still, he’d done the choosing—and she had never chosen him. Marius, on the other hand, was a man she’d wanted since the day she’d laid eyes on him, and her adoration had only grown since then.

His kiss was gentle and chaste. It left her wanting more.

Marius pulled back. “I’m sorry. I should have asked first.”