Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn (42 page)

“No. You need to get out for a while. I’ll
take it.”

“I would rather you not go in there.”

Jensa huffed. “I was around her for days
before you even knew she was ill. If I am going to get the fever,
then I probably already have.”

Reiv frowned and held out his hand, but Jensa
moved the gourd from his reach. “I said I will take it.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” Reiv said.

“Listen,” Jensa said, attempting a reasonable
tone. “There were others sick when we arrived, but not near as many
as when we left Meirla. Most are already up and walking about. I
think the fever has run its course. I’m sure Brina will be well in
no time.”

“I cannot take that chance.”

“Well, I can!” Jensa said. And with that she
stepped away from him and ducked into the hut.

Reiv’s shoulders tensed, then slumped with
resignation. In truth, he was too tired to argue with her or anyone
else. He gazed toward the trees rising along the slope beyond the
hut and headed in that direction. Before long he found himself in a
small clearing nestled beneath an overhang of firs. It was dotted
with decaying tree stumps, but it was also blanketed with golden
grasses and yellow wildflowers. He walked amongst them, examining
each one, hoping to find Frusensias or something similar. Since
arriving, he had asked everyone to keep an eye out for the white
flowering herb. If he could just find a handful, perhaps it would
be enough to concoct a potion similar to the one that Alicine and
Nannaven had made for Kerrik. Thus far, no Frusensias had been
found, but even if they had, Nannaven was dead and Alicine was
gone. And only they knew the formula for such a brew.

He plopped upon the grass and leaned his back
against an old tree trunk, pondering the tribulations he had been
through, and those which Brina was going through still. He could
not bear the thought of her suffering, could not fathom the idea of
losing her. Ever since he had been little, she had been his ally.
When his own mother had given him no love, Brina had provided him
with more than he deserved. As a result, she was more to him than
an aunt, more to him than a friend. She was his mother in all but
the biological sense of the word. He knew there was only one way to
save her. But to do so meant he would have to leave her. Did he
possess the strength to go through with it? And was it the right
thing to do? He closed his eyes, playing various plans over and
over in his mind. Something had to be done. Something…

He was awakened by light flickering behind
his eyelids and the tantalizing smell of broth under his nose. He
squinted at the ball of fire hovering over him, then raised an arm
to block the glare.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Jensa said quietly.
She leaned the torch against a rock. “I brought you a blanket and
something to eat.”

“Why? What time is it?” Reiv mumbled,
realizing he was curled up on the grass.

“After dark.”

Reiv sat up with a start. “Brina?” he
asked.

“The same. No worse.”

“Reiv moved to rise, but Jensa’s commanding
hand pushed him back down.

“You’ll eat first,” she ordered. “Brina is
sleeping, and Cora’s outside the hut, listening for any sign of her
waking.”

Reiv heaved a sigh. He grabbed the gourd from
her hand and took a sip of broth.

“All of it,” Jensa said, circumventing his
next move, which was to hand it back to her.

“It is hot.”

“And you’re cold.”

Reiv realized it must be very late. The sky
was pitch black now, the moon and stars veiled behind a thick layer
of clouds. Even the temperature had dropped considerably. He was
clothed in only a tunic that reached from his shoulders to his
knees, and he could not deny that something warm in his belly would
do him good.

Jensa draped the blanket around his
shoulders. The warmth felt pleasant against his skin. “Where did
you get this?” he asked, studying it.

“A woman brought it as a gift, for you.”

“For me?”

“She said her husband had no more need of
it.”

Reiv’s eyes shot to hers. “Was it—”

“No.”

Reiv nodded and clutched the blanket under
his chin with his free hand, then noticed that Jensa, still
standing, was clothed in little more than that which she usually
wore.

“Would you like to share it with me?” he
asked, then realized the implications. To his surprise, she sat
down beside him and pulled a corner of the blanket around her
shoulders.

Reiv kept his eyes forward as he continued to
sip. The warmth of Jensa’s arm, as well as her pleasant scent, was
quickly usurping that of the soup.

She snuggled closer. “This feels nice.”

“Um-hmm,” Reiv responded, and tossed back a
swig.

“Are you warm enough?” Jensa asked, running
her fingers down his leg.

Reiv bit back a gasp, nearly dropping the
bowl. Jensa laughed. “You’ll warm up in a hurry if you spill that
into your lap,” she teased.

Reiv gripped the gourd tighter. He honestly
no longer felt cold, but goose bumps were marching across his skin
nonetheless.

Jensa ran her fingertips along the tiny bumps
that were forcing the hairs on his leg to stand at attention. “You
are
cold,” she said. “Here, let me warm you.”

Before Reiv could utter a word of protest,
she moved to his back, draping the blanket around the both of them,
her arms encircling his. She rubbed her hands vigorously up and
down his arms, then his torso, all the while blowing warm gentle
breaths upon his neck and into his ears. It sent a quake through
Reiv’s limbs and forbidden thoughts to his head.

Reiv set the gourd aside and grabbed her
hands. “I am quite warm now,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Very well,” Jensa replied, but she sounded
disappointed.

Reiv felt like a fool. He would have liked
her to continue, any male with an ounce of sense would, but still,
in all good conscience, he could not allow it without first telling
her what was on his mind.

“Sit beside me,” he said. “There is something
I must tell you.”

Jensa sank down at his side. “You do not have
to say it,” she muttered. “You do not want me.”

Reiv could not help but laugh. “I thought you
said I was the worst.”

“What?” she asked.

“That day on the beach, when you and Lyal
were arguing; you said I was the worst.”

“The worst what?”

“That when people thought we were mates, they
were thinking the worst.”

“You remember that?”

Reiv shrugged. “It is not every day that I am
labeled as such. Of course I remember it.”

“I was only disputing Lyal’s accusations,”
she said defensively. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“Well, I
will
be the worst if I do not
find a way to help Brina. I have searched for Frusensias. I have
searched for anything that even resembles them.”

“To make the medicinal that Alicine knew
of.”

“Yes. But I have not found a single one, and
even if I had, who amongst us knows how to make the brew? Nannaven
is dead, and Alicine in Kirador. I cannot risk Brina dying, Jensa.
I must find a way to save her.”

“But how?”

“By leaving…tomorrow.”

“What!” Jensa said, drawing the simple
question into an exclamation. “No; you can’t. We’ve only just
arrived.”

“I must go find—”

“Alicine,” she said curtly. “You go to find
Alicine.”

“She is the only one who can help.
Regardless, we do not know how to survive a winter in these
mountains. We need someone to guide us. Perhaps Dayn will agree to
come back also.”

Jensa remained silent.

Through the flicker of torchlight, Reiv
realized her eyes were misting. “I will be back,” he assured her.
“I promise, I will. I only go to find help for Brina.”

Jensa nodded as if she understood, but she
turned her face away. “So, you’ll bring Alicine back with you,” she
said.

Reiv was not sure how to respond. She clearly
did not want Alicine here, but Nannaven had taught Alicine
everything she knew. If anyone could help Brina, Alicine could. And
if Dayn came also, who better to teach the refugees about surviving
in the mountains? But would either of them agree to it?

“I do not know if she, or Dayn, will want to
return with me,” he said.

“Do you wish it?”

“I do not know what I wish anymore, only that
Brina get well. But if Alicine and Dayn do come back, I think it
would be a fine thing. Do you not agree?”

Jensa leaned against him, pulling the blanket
tighter. “I’m frightened.”

“Of what?”

“That you will not return.” Jensa raised her
eyes to him.

“Of course I will return.”

“And if Alicine asks you to stay with her in
Kirador?”

Reiv took Jensa’s hand in his. “I have
affection for Alicine. I do not deny it. But if she felt the same
for me, she never would have left.”

“I would never leave you,” Jensa said. She
rose to her knees to face him. “Because I love you.”

Reiv drew a sharp breath, his mind stuttering
with confusion. Jensa loved him? As in
loved
him? He cared
for her too, of course, but in his suddenly muddled state, he could
not be certain it was the same thing. His thoughts darted back and
forth, searching for an answer to her unexpected announcement. But
as he turned his focus back to her, he realized the answer was
kneeling right in front of him.

Jensa leaned toward him and planted her lips
on his, and for a moment Reiv thought to put a stop to it. He had,
after all, only just learned of Jensa’s feelings, and he hadn’t had
time to even consider his own. But then his body responded, and any
thoughts he had of waylaying her advances slipped entirely
away.

Reiv’s heart raced with anticipation. He
wrapped his arms around her, returning her kiss with one of his
own. Then Jensa’s passion increased, and she pressed him to the
ground, working her lips from his mouth to his chest. Reiv gripped
the grass, desiring nothing more than to roll the girl over and
return the favor. Without warning, Alicine’s face barged into his
consciousness, sending a painful catch to his throat. His mind grew
confused with desire and conflict. He loved Alicine, he was sure of
it, but she had rejected him—hadn’t she? Reiv gasped as Jensa ran
her hand under his tunic.
The past be damned
, he decided. He
flung Alicine from his thoughts, and Jensa onto her back.

Reiv traced his fingers over Jensa’s body,
exploring as much as he dared. He could barely feel her due to the
damage to his hands, but he hoped his touch would at least bring
her some pleasure. But then an embarrassing thought entered his
head: he had no real experience in matters such as this, but Jensa
obviously did. And it would soon be all too clear that he was still
pure in that regard.

Jensa gasped, and Reiv snatched his hand
back. Gods, he was so clumsy! Had he harmed her in some way?

“Don’t stop,” she panted. But then she opened
her eyes to him. “What is it?”

Reiv hesitated, then said, “I do not wish to
displease you.”

“You could never displease me.” Jensa studied
his face, then her eyes grew wide. “Am I…your first?”

Heat flared to Reiv’s cheeks. “Yes,” he said.
“In this regard, yes.”

Jensa smiled. “I think we'll manage," she
said. She drew his body to hers, and it was then that Reiv knew
beyond all doubt: whether this was right or whether this was wrong,
regardless of the consequences, their lives were now united, bound
forever by this single moment in time.

Back to ToC

Part Five:
Penance

Chapter 33: Into the
Pit

“
A
re your things not
gathered
yet
?” Lorcan asked crossly. He eyed the half-packed
satchel that rested atop Falyn’s bed and the assortment of clothing
still draped across the coverlet.

“I can’t decide what to bring, Father,” Falyn
said. “We are, after all, going to be away for three days.” She
folded a nightgown into her luggage, then stepped toward the
dresser, determined to keep her back to her father as much as
possible. Over the years he had become skilled at reading her eyes,
and she could not risk him reading what would surely be written in
them today.

“Where’s Sheireadan?” he asked. “It is our
rotation to visit the outlying homesteads, and we would not be
setting a good example if we were to arrive late.”

“I don’t know,” Falyn said. She bit her lip.
She knew full well where her brother was, but she also knew better
than to confess it. If Lorcan learned where Sheireadan had gone,
the consequences would be severe.

Falyn could feel the heat of her father’s
temper building. “Shall I go and find him?” she asked, risking a
turn in his direction.

Lorcan scowled. “No need. I’ll find him
myself.”

“Shall I pack for him?” she asked as if in
afterthought.

Lorcan stepped across the hallway toward
Sheireadan’s room and glanced inside. “He appears to have already
done it,” he said. “Well, at least the can do
something
right.” He stormed toward the front door, his boots pounding the
floorboards.

“You might try the apothecary,” Falyn called
after him. “He said something earlier about his stomach.”

The front door slammed, sending a vibration
to the windowpanes and a tinkle to the crystals dangling from the
lampshade. Falyn stepped to her bedroom window and eased back the
curtain, watching as her father disappeared down the lane. The
apothecary was not far, a ten minute stride from the house at most.
Perhaps Lorcan would find his son there, perhaps not. And it was
the “perhaps not” that Falyn was most concerned about.

The back door suddenly opened, but before it
could close, Falyn rushed toward it.