Rift (36 page)

“You still need to feed your army,” Eira countered. “Isn’t that why your beasts are here, hunting those I’ve sworn to protect?”

“Yes,” he said. “But I’m also here because I am subject to the foolish whims of feeble-minded magicians with delusions of their own power. That is why striga and redcaps terrorize small villages. I am a beggar, scavenging for what scraps I might find.”

Bosque leaned in, murmuring to her. “You can change my fate. I would be subject to your will alone, where only those deserving punishment receive it from my warriors. Men like Abbot Crichton. Men you deem corrupt.”

His breath was cool as it brushed her cheek. “I can save those you love . . . and I will destroy your enemies.”

He stepped back, smiling. “Think on my words. I must leave you now as your companions are returning. You know how to find me when you’ve made your choice.”

Eira nodded.

Bosque glanced at Alistair. “The boy has potential. His heart’s desire has been denied. Keep that in mind and he could be an asset to you. Very soon you will need strong allies.”

Eira’s brow furrowed and Bosque laughed, the sound fading as he slipped into the forest shadows. From behind her, Eira heard the shouts and calls of the returning Guard. Their imminent arrival propelled her to Alistair’s side.

“Remember your oath,” she said to Alistair.

“I will,” he answered without pause. “And we should tell everyone that Cian suddenly took ill.”

Though slightly taken aback by his easy acceptance of the lie they would share, Eira still smiled at his quick thinking.

“I only ask one thing of you.” Alistair looked at her and there was hunger in his eyes.

“What?” Eira asked warily.

“Tell me who that man was. Tell me everything.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

EMBER WOKE, SKIN
flushed, but not because her fever had returned. She scooted up in bed and tried to catch her breath. She’d been dreaming, caught in an illusion so vivid it still clung to her mind.

The dream had felt real because it had occurred in the same place she’d woken. Barrow had been reading to her as he’d told her he’d done each day while she recovered. But in this dream he hadn’t read to her from a chair pulled up next to her bed. Instead she’d been curled up against the length of his body, her head resting against his chest. She not only heard but felt each word he read as it rumbled from his throat.

She could still hear the deep, steady tones of his voice. She could feel the warmth of his skin. His bare skin against hers beneath the bed linens.

Ember’s fingers curled around the blanket as an unexpected shiver passed through her limbs. What madness was this? She’d never had such a dream, but it wasn’t the surprise of its impact that worried her. The allure of a maiden’s fantasy was nothing she dared succumb to—particularly when it involved her mentor. Barrow deserved her respect and surely would view doe-eyed infatuation with nothing but disdain, or at best a weary indulgence.

Her discomfiture was made worse by the fact that Barrow hadn’t visited since the day she regained consciousness. Alistair had come to see her on several occasions, making apologies for his earlier outburst. He’d also recounted the horrible events of Dorusduain. Philip and Alan had been the only Guards lost, but others had suffered grave injuries, and the sickening fate of the villagers cast a pall on all the souls at Tearmunn. Even Lady Cian had taken ill.

Ember was grateful for Alistair’s company. He was her link to the outside world. Every time he appeared, bearing news of the Guard or other business of the keep, Ember hid her disappointment that he’d become her regular companion while Barrow had for some unknown reason given up his daily visits to her sickroom.

“I have good news.” The healer’s cheerful smile was a welcome relief from Ember’s tumble of thoughts.

Ember sat up, noticing with satisfaction that doing so no longer took effort nor caused her pain. She brightened further when she saw that the healer was carrying her clothes.

“Am I free?”

The healer laughed. “I truly hope your stay here hasn’t felt too much like a prison. But you are free to return to your own quarters and to move about Tearmunn as you wish.”

Ember rolled from bed, snatching the clothes from her.

“Before you flee . . .” The healer clucked her tongue. “You must continue to exercise your back and shoulders and I don’t want you to leave the keep for another five days.”

Ember’s face fell. She’d wanted to escape Tearmunn on Caber’s back, hopefully with Barrow and Toshach as companions. But even with these restrictions it would be wonderful to leave her sickroom. While the healer continued to fuss over her, checking her healed-over wounds one last time and reminding her not to exert herself too much, Ember pulled up her hair, securing it with the ringed braid Sorcha had taught her. She exchanged her sleeping shirt for a clean chemise and chausses and belted on her tabard. Even if she couldn’t leave Tearmunn, she was eager to return to a semblance of normalcy. She might not be able to perform all her duties with the Guard, but she could at least look like she belonged with them.

She looked about, frowning. “Where are my weapons?”

“Have you not listened to anything I’ve said?” the healer scolded. “You’ll have no need for them until Sunday.”

“Not to use,” Ember said. “I want to be sure they haven’t been lost.”

The healer laughed. “If I know anything about the Guard, it’s that they do not allow any weapons to be lost. I’m sure they’re in the barracks, awaiting your return.”

Her words reassured Ember, but only slightly. She’d feel better with Silence and Sorrow hooked to her belt where they belonged.

After thanking the healer for her care and making several more promises not to return to the field too soon, Ember escaped the sickroom and hurried from the manor. When she burst through the doors, she gulped the spring air. The day was warm and further lightened her already buoyant spirit.

Despite her promise to remain within the keep, Ember walked quickly to the stables. Even if she couldn’t ride, she wanted to see Caber, and she hoped she might encounter Barrow with the horses too. His sudden absence chafed at her, making her worry she’d done something to offend him.

“Lady Morrow!” Ian was leading a frisky dun colt from the stables. “It’s good to see you well again. The rumors about your battle with the striga are impressive.”

“It’s good to be well. And I’m sure the rumors are much embellished from the truth,” Ember said, though she was pleased to think that her first foray into the field might have bolstered her reputation throughout Conatus. She smiled at him and then looked at the prancing colt. “Who is this?”

“A troublemaker,” he said. “We’ve just started his training and he’s due out on the longe line today.”

The colt reared, jerking Ian back. He swore, examining the fresh rope burn on his palm.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” she said as Ian calmed the skittish young horse.

“It’s going to be a long morning.” Having gotten the colt under control, he stroked the dun’s bowed neck. “But well worth it. He has a fine spirit and will make the best of horses once we understand each other. Speaking of which, Caber will be happy to see you. He’s been in quite a foul temper since you took ill.”

Ember sighed. “I’ve been ordered not to ride yet.”

“That’s a shame,” Ian said. “When Caber’s unhappy, he likes to bite.”

“Oh, dear.” Ember spared the stable hand a guilty smile.

“No worries, my lady.” He laughed. “We were accustomed to Caber’s moods long before you arrived. The only difference now is that his temper is tied to you.”

Ember couldn’t help her smile, which Ian returned warmly. “It’s always good to see a strong bond between horse and rider.”

She nodded, more eager than ever to visit the stallion.

“Are you looking for Lord Hess as well? Or just Caber?” Ian asked.

Not expecting his question, Ember looked at the ground, hoping Ian didn’t see the heat creeping into her cheeks.

If he noticed, he gave no indication, only saying, “I think he’s getting ready to take Toshach out, but you can probably still catch him.”

Keeping her head ducked, Ember murmured her thanks and hurried past Ian into the stables. The rich scent of hay and sweet bite of grain eased her frantic pulse. As she walked along the stalls, horses poked their heads out, ears flicking in curiosity as she passed. When a familiar well-shaped chestnut face appeared, Ember called out.

“Caber!”

The stallion bellowed in return, craning his neck out of the stall and tossing his mane. When he began knocking his front hoof against the stall door, she ran forward. Caber gave another high-pitched whinny and banged on the door again.

“I’m coming!”

When Ember reached the horse, he blew into her face. She stroked his velvet cheeks and scratched his ears. He leaned over and gave a firm nip to her shoulder, enough so that it hurt but didn’t break her skin.

“Hey!” She rubbed her shoulder and he snorted, pinning his ears back to show his disapproval. Then he lifted his head and tried to chew on her braid as usual.

She twisted her head away but stroked his neck when he bowed his head close to her. “Will I be forgiven if I sneak a handful of grain to you?”

He answered with a hearty, low sound. Laughing, Ember planted a kiss on his nose. Approaching hoofbeats turned her head. The sound stopped as Barrow came to a halt with Toshach just behind him.

Ember’s heart jumped into her throat. It only took a moment of looking at Barrow’s dark hair and the gap where his shirt opened below his throat, giving the slightest hint of his chest, to plunge her back into her dream. She looked away as her skin heated up.

“Ember.” Barrow sounded as uneasy as she felt. “Have you recovered?”

Still not sure she could bury her embarrassment, Ember returned her attention to Caber, who had begun banging on the stall door again now that Toshach was near.

“Almost,” she answered him. “I’ve been told not to fight or overexert myself. But I feel well enough.”

“Good,” he said.

She glanced at Toshach. The stallion was saddled and bridled.

“Are you going out for the Guard?” she asked. “Or just for a ride?”

Barrow shifted his weight. “I’m just taking Toshach into the glen. We both could do with a bit of exercise.”

Ember nodded, wondering if he would go to the hidden waterfall he’d shown her. She half expected an invitation to join him even though she knew she’d have to decline. But Barrow stood quietly, leaving Ember to deal with the hollowness that carved out an empty space beneath her ribs.

Caber kicked the stall door again and she forced a smile. “He’d like to go with you. But I’m not allowed to leave the keep yet.”

“That’s probably best.” Barrow led Toshach a few more steps along the stalls. “If you’re feeling up to it, the healers could use your help. There are many injured after the Dorusduain mission.”

Ember stared at him, disbelieving that their conversation would end so abruptly.

“I was relieved to hear that you weren’t injured at Dorusduain,” she said quietly.

He was silent for several moments before saying, “I wasn’t there.”

Ember didn’t know what to say. She’d simply assumed he’d been with the Guard. Alistair hadn’t mentioned Barrow in his accounts, but Ember knew Alistair didn’t like talking about her mentor, so she hadn’t asked him. She’d waited to ask her nurse if Barrow was among the injured. Part of her was shocked that Barrow would miss such an urgent and dangerous mission. Another part was disappointed because Ember had somewhat assuaged herself by imagining that the attack on Dorusduain and subsequent plotting within the Guard had kept him from visiting her.

Before she could speak again, Barrow stopped Toshach and turned to face her. “There’s another matter I must discuss with you.”

Ember didn’t know why her stomach twisted, but she suddenly felt sick.

“After much consideration . . .” Barrow’s jaw was tight, as though he had to force his words out. “I’ve decided that I’m not the best person to serve as your mentor.”

“What?” It was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

“Strange things are stirring. Dark things. I don’t know what is coming, but I fear it and I can’t suffer distraction. I must focus on my own role in the Guard rather than yours.” Barrow twisted Toshach’s reins in his hands. “Sorcha will take my place. I’m sure you’ll find her an exceptional teacher.”

Casting her eyes downward, Ember blinked hard. Was that all she’d been to Barrow? A distraction? The tears that burned in the corners of her eyes were as unwanted as this news. She wanted to ask him why, to demand an explanation. But she was too frightened of the reasons he would give. If Barrow no longer wanted to guide her steps as she progressed to full status in the Guard, it meant that somehow she’d failed to meet his expectations.

What had it been? Where had she fallen short? She bit her lip, wanting to do anything to keep from crying in front of him. Her tears would surely only earn more of his disdain. All she could guess was that their trip to the Black Forest had somehow provoked this new poor opinion of her.