Rachel Rossano - The Theodoric Saga (7 page)

Eve woke to the rumbling of her stomach. The sun’s after light had faded the bedroom to monochrome when she finally opened her eyes. Labren did not stir as she eased from the bed and dressed. Someone had brought up their clothing chest. The clothes were wrinkled, but clean.

The scent of campfire smoke and grass filled her nose as she pulled the last layer over her head. Ulysses and the constant fear of capture flickered through her thoughts, but she shoved it away. Labren seemed to think they were safe here. She trusted him to know. After all, he was the one who had been living on the run for years.

She crept to the door in the last of the fading light and let herself out into the hall.

“How is he?”

Her heart jumped. Hand to chest, she labored to calm it.

“I am sorry,” Han immediately apologized. “I thought you saw me.”

She shook her head. “He is sleeping.”

“Any fever?”

“Mild. It usually comes at night.”

Han signaled his understanding. “And you?” Concern written clearly in his eyes, he smiled down at her.

“Hungry.”

“Well, that I can help you with. The kitchen is always well stocked. If Abrigail is about, she will fix you something. If she isn’t, I will see that you don’t starve. Come this way.” Catching her elbow with his hand, he gently guided her in the direction of the stairs.

The sweeping staircase from the second to the first floor dropped them in the center of the two story entrance hall. Passing beneath its arch, he led her past the closed double doors of Professor Olof’s study. A bar of dim light on the sill signaled life beyond.

“The Professor is probably writing letters or reading.” Han jutted his chin toward the right. “This floor is mostly classrooms. But, back here is the kitchen, the best room in the house.” The hallway opened into a huge room with floor to ceiling windows along the back wall. “Through here.” Han backed into a heavy swinging door and pulled her through into a spacious, immaculate kitchen.

“I don’t see Abrigail so it looks like you get to taste some of my cooking.” He abandoned her in the center of the room to check on the fire casting a rosy glow across the worn hearthstones. “Come sit by the fire and rest. You still look a bit tired. I am not much of a cook, I must warn you. You are in for cheese and toast. I hope you don’t mind.”

Her stomach rumbled loudly in reply.

He smiled. “I will take that as a request for speed.”

Within moments he had her settled in a heavy, comfortable chair, feet toward the fire and the smell of warm bread filling her nose.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

She eyed him suspiciously. Labren indicated he trusted these men, but her habits and instincts of self-preservation were hard to ignore.

“Okay, tell me about how you got here.”

She summarized the events of the last few months. Han, she discovered, was a great listener. He waited patiently for her to form her thoughts, asked the right questions, and prodded her to continue when she slowed. She discovered herself saying much more about her worries regarding Ulysses and the hunters pursuing Labren than she intended. When she finally halted her ramblings with a large chunk of bread oozing over in cheddar, Han leaned back in his chair and contemplated the dancing flames in silence. She swallowed her bite and he spoke.

“I am certain Ulysses’ reach will not extend this far. A member of a traveling caravan has little clout with locals of the towns he passes through. I doubt he will even bring up charges against Trahern, whatever it was Trahern did to him.

“The patrols are another problem completely.” He glared at the glowing logs. “I will have to speak with Professor.” He glanced at her and caught her worried expression. “We will protect him, Eve. Trahern is among friends. We will protect you both.

Lessons began for Eve the next morning. In an empty classroom on the first floor, Professor Olof set her to learning how to walk like a queen, at least that is what he called it. She thought the contortions made her resemble a woman with a rod stuck up her back.

“Chin higher.” His voice echoed in the hollow space. The wooden floors and bare windows offered nothing to muffle the sound. “Shoulders back, stomach in, smaller steps, you must look as though you are above the world.”

But I am not.
She obediently attempted to glide up and down the row of desks with her nose pointed at the far wall, but her heart didn’t agree with the new posture. Fear seeped in. If Labren became king, she would always have to be like this. Years of parading for unfriendly eyes loomed before her. At least as a slave, she could do what she needed to avoid the malevolent attention that frequently turned her way. As a queen, she would never be allowed to hide. Labren would depend on her to keep up the act. A lump formed in her throat and tears pressed behind it.

“What do you think you are doing, Master Trahern,” Abrigail demanded outside in the hallway.

Professor Olof strode the doorway.

“Trahern, you will never heal if you don’t rest.”

Labren’s muffled reply sounded weak. Eve darted to Olof’s side. Sagging against the wall, face whitewashed and eyes closed, Labren took slow measured breaths.

“I underestimated the effort of going downstairs.” His eyes opened. Glassy, they focused on her reluctantly as though fighting him. “How go the lessons?”

“Back to bed.” Professor Olof signaled to Abrigail. “Go fetch Han. Trahern will need carrying back up those stairs.” The woman disappeared and Olof turned steely blue eyes on Labren. “Can you walk?”

“I made it here, didn’t I?” He shoved away from the wall, but the bravado ended there. Eve and Olof barely caught him as he sank toward the floor. Maneuvering him into a chair took even more effort and skill. Once there, Labren settled his head in his hands and didn’t move.

“Now don’t be a fool.” Olof retrieved his book and returned. “You are helping no one, least of all yourself with these games. Han and I will return you to your bed and you will stay there until I tell you that you can rise, understood?”

“I will not spend the next month on my back in a bed.” Labren raised his head and straightened to glare at Olof. “My leg might be weak, but my mind is active. You take Eve away, Han has his duties, and I expect everyone else has occupations more pressing than entertaining an invalid.”

“I will have books brought down from the library. You will only be bedbound for a few days.” Olof waved the volume in his hand for emphasis. “Just pick a subject and we will collect what you need.”

“Books are well enough, but I need some interaction. You know I have never been able to read for more than a few hours without a need for a break. My mind will not stay focused that long.”

Olof grunted as Han appeared around the corner. “I will see what I can do.”

“So, he escaped.” Crossing his arms, Han regarded Labren with a light twist of his mouth. “Have you been chasing skirts?”

“No.” An edge to Labren’s voice hinted at anger.

“So, where do you want the miscreant?”

“In his bed.” Olof waved Eve into the classroom. “Back to work, Eve. You are doing passably well with the walk. I want you to attempt a curtsey now. Remember, keep your back straight.”

“Olof, books?” Labren called from the hallway.

“Han, will you see about someone fetching some reading material for Trahern?” The professor pointed to Eve’s feet. “Now stand feet together, legs straight…”

Eve obeyed, but her attention was on the muffled sounds of Han and Labren in the hallway. She strained her ears to no avail until the sounds disappeared.

“I demand an audience with Eve Ethan.”

A loud voice broke through the hushed corridors on the first floor. Almost all of the children were romping outside, making the best use of the brief hour before dinner. Labren, resting in Professor Olof’s office on his way to the dining room, lifted his head from a tome chronicling the genealogy of the Theodorics. If Ireic was set on offering him the crown, Labren intended to find an alternate possibility.

“You shall not speak to any one if you do not regulate your volume, sir.” Han’s voice carried despite the even tones.

“I will not quiet down until I get Eve.”

Labren attempted to stand without the assistance of the desk. He managed, but pain sluiced through his thigh. A deep breath steadied him as he waited for the discomfort to settle to a dull ache. “Bring him in, Han,” he called.

“Come this way,” Han directed.

“I know Eve is here. They turned off at the crossroads and this is the first place on this road that has a wagon….” The man’s voice trailed off upon setting his gaze on Labren. “You!” The man lunged forward.

Labren staggered back a step, his bad leg almost collapsing beneath him. He grabbed the back of the chair for balance.

Icy blue eyes spewed hatred. If Han hadn’t kept his restraining hand on the man’s compact shoulder, he would have seized Labren.

“Where is my sister?”

About hand’s span shorter than Han, the man was built like a wall. Massive shoulders, solid chest, and well-muscled arms. His movements declared a skilled quickness on his feet and comfort in his own skin few men possessed. Labren scanned his face searching for a familial resemblance, but was hard pressed to find one beyond the blond hair and perhaps something about the set of his eyes.

“I demand to see my sister.”

“You can demand all you want, sir, but you cannot assail this man.”

“I have cause.”

Han’s eyebrows rose.

Labren frowned. “What cause would that be?”

“Kidnapping of my sister from her owner.”

“I didn’t kidnap her.”

Approaching footfalls outside interrupted any further conversation. Not that they were really accomplishing much with the words they had exchanged thus far. Professor Olof appeared in the doorway, Eve at his heel.

Labren watched her face intently as she entered the room.

“I understand…” Professor Olof’s voice was lost to the mutual cries of joy and relief from the siblings.

“Ruarc!”

Eve bypassed the Professor and ran into the stranger’s out flung arms. The unfettered euphoria of her expression banished all doubt of the man’s relation to her. Simultaneously, Labren’s gut gave a terrible wrench. His knuckles whitened as his fingers dug into the upholstery. If only she became so overjoyed at his appearing.

“I thought I would never see you again.” Ruarc stepped back, cradling her face between his hands. “I came to rescue you from Mridle only to find you gone, stolen away by some criminal, and dragged into harms’ way.” He pulled her into a massive hug. “Now put your mind at rest, little sister. I shall free you from this…” He uttered a word that Labren had only heard used by the roughest of the seadogs. Professor Olof’s eyebrows rose and Han coughed. “He has no hold on you.”

Eve tried to speak, but Ruarc shushed her. “Now, villain…” He turned and pinned Labren with a frigid glare. “Will you release her or do I need to call upon the law to deal with you.”

Han stepped forward and opened his mouth, but Eve beat him to it.

“You don’t understand.”

“No, sister, you are the one who doesn’t understand.” Without dropping his glare from Labren, Ruarc pulled Eve behind him and pulled out a knife. “You are coming with me.”

Balancing precariously, white fire searing his thigh, Labren raised both hands to hip level, showing the man his palms.

“She is not going anywhere,” Professor Olof interjected.

“Would you attack an unarmed man?” Han asked.

“Remember what Father taught you. Listen!”

Ruarc ignored her, raising his knife slightly higher.

Eve ripped her hand from Ruarc’s grasp. Frustration sparked green fire in her eyes. “Ruarc Ethan, you aren’t listening.”

Ruarc swung to face her. The mask of focused determination slipped and wariness flickered across his features. “Listening.”

“I am free.” Her voice weighed heavy in the room. “Look!” She pulled back the collar of her dress to reveal her bare collarbone. “He already freed me. I am his wife. It was my choice, Ruarc. I choose to stay.”

A slow dawn spread across her brother’s face. “So, he didn’t steal you?”

“From Mridle’s perspective, perhaps, he did. From mine, I was freed.”

“But he is a criminal.”

“Wrongly accused,” Han pointed out before Labren’s tongue formed a sound.

“The man from the caravan said he abused you.”

“Let me guess his name,” Eve offered, “Ulysses?”

“He was the one harassing her,” Labren protested.

Ruarc glared at him. Distrust still hung between them. Labren didn’t completely blame him.

Eve crossed to Labren and slipped an arm around his waist. “You are pale. Sit before you fall over,” she whispered, guiding him back to the chair.

“But…” Ruarc’s voice faded to silence.

Labren wanted to protest and remain standing, but a sudden wave of lightheadedness cut off the possibility. “What a way to feel useless,” he muttered. “A brother-in-law I never knew I had threatens to abduct my wife and all I can do is struggle not to pass out at his feet.”