The Toll (55 page)

“
Everything is as it should
be, and you’re always tired.” Making herself right at home, Adamina
busied herself warming water for a tincture.

“
But it’s only been,” I
counted backwards in my head. Has it really been long enough to
pass a season, plus a little more?

“
Here, this will help,” she
promised, a small, secret smile twitching at the corners of her
lips.

“
Has Brevin been back yet?”
I asked quietly, biting my lip when her back was turned.

“
Strange, that you have
that little urchin running around doing errands for you. Be careful
when dealing with them,” she warned sternly, youthful face pinching
tight, worry etching her dark brow, “they can’t be
trusted.”

“
Mm.” But I trusted him,
and it was as simple as that.

Found the first day, huddled into a
corner in what would soon be my new bedroom, he was shivering,
despite the warming weather. Noting the terrified look on his face,
all alone, much like myself, I’d quickly introduced myself, offered
him a loaf of bread and the spare blanket I kept for Aitziber—who
never seemed to need it—and invited him to stay as long as he
pleased, but he had to promise to be helpful and honest.

Trust was of the utmost importance for
me, but I hadn’t really counted on him staying past the first week.
Trust, it turned out, was important to the little boy too. He was
loyal to a fault, and had proven himself beyond resourceful. Best
decision I’d ever made. Brevin, after getting over the initial
shock of it all, working for me in exchange for a roof over his
head and food to warm his belly, was loyal to the bone.

I never did settle in the small
cottage by that village, overhearing two men in town rambling about
a band of large men, traveling only at night, roaming the country
side, searching out young women.

What young women?
Or was it a young
woman?
Too much of a coincidence to
overlook, I’d left at dawn, saddling up Aitziber with as much as he
could carry, riding for as long as I could at the snail’s pace I
was comfortable with, going so far as to sleep in the dirt near the
woods when we lost light, hiding under the cover of the trees until
the sun had shown again.

Now, settled into a small house on an
old rundown farm, nothing more than barren dirt, a dilapidated
barn, and a few emaciated goats, the only thing standing was the
house itself. It would do, and if I was careful, I could slowly fix
it up after the babe was born. I’d have to make sure the purchases
were small, not wanting to draw too much attention to the single
‘widow’, as I’d introduced myself, making up a name on the spot to
go with it.

Granted, looking back, Petunia Peepots
wasn’t the best of choices, but I’d panicked, and that’s what had
come tumbling out. Now, every time some called out for Petty, as
Adamina had come to calling me, or Ms. Peepots, I
cringed.

“
Everything good in town?”
I asked carefully as I sat down at the small table for two. I’d
scrounged up a chair, using the broken pieces from the ones left
behind to piece one together. Brevin, the dear boy, was quite handy
with tools. Unable to scrounge up anything more, I’d settled on
stacked, salvaged wooden crates that acted as stools, just until we
could find or make more suitable replacements. I still had plenty
of coin left, though none of the other bags had ever popped up
again, but it wasn’t about the money. Coveting safety above all
else, if that meant living sparingly, I could handle
that.

“
You ask that a lot, you
know that?” Addie poured a steaming mug of tea, stirring it with a
fork as she blew on it carefully, giving me a sweet, gentle smile
as she quickly sat the mug down in front of me.

Lips twisting as the smell wafted
towards me, not unwelcome or noxious, but familiar in a way that
had my back up, the hairs on my nape pricking. With a soft shake of
my head, my lips clamped tight and I slowly slid it
back.

Addie burst out laughing, her full
lower lip twitching as she snorted. “You act as if it’s poison!”
she chortled.

Eyeing it dubiously, I clucked my
tongue playfully, swatting at her with the small kitchen rag I’d
used the old flour sacks to cut up into as she made her way past.
“Well, is it?”

“
Is it what?” She blinked
down at me as she settled her tall frame atop a
stacked-wooden-crate stool.

When my meaning caught, she gasped and
snatched the towel from my hands, tossing it at my face. “Oh!
Ungrateful!”

I burst out laughing at the look on
her face, allowing her to scoot the small mug back towards me, if
only to escape her ire.

“
You know... I’ve never
used a mug like this before.” Lifting it up to examine it again, I
tapped the beautifully done, thick ceramic with my fingertips,
pleased with the hollow ‘thump’. “Mamma always preferred her dainty
cup and saucer—the only one that had managed to survive throughout
the years—over tin.” If it was for something hot, we’d had plenty
of those wooden cups Papa had liked to carve.

“
People use them all the
time.” Her head tilted a little and her eyes blinked slowly,
reminding me of a lazy cat Otvla once had. Long lashes batting
thickly against her smooth, unblemished cheeks, she studied me
curiously.

“
Not us,” I said quietly,
offering a small, polite smile.

They did, people used clay mugs all
the time—true—but none quite like this, and definitely not anyone
from Grenhull. A group of people more focused on crops and
livestock, pretties like this wouldn’t have stood a chance in that
place. It was artwork you could drink out of—rich, earthy browns
speckled with black, curving up like a tornado, leaves of all
different sizes, shapes and colors embellishing the piece
beautifully.

“
Where are you from, did
you say?” Adamina’s expression lit up, and warning bells clanged
like a siren in my skull.

A few fierce kicks in my belly let me
know the babe was feeling restless enough too. Or maybe that was my
own nerves instigating it.

“
I don’t remember where,
exactly, you said you hailed.”

“
I didn’t.” Grinning
cheekily, I popped up and walked to the small basin by the water
bucket, pretending to wash up.

“
Alright, duly noted.
Changing the subject.” Lips pursed, I heard her mutter, “Such a
secretive thing, you’d think the hounds of hell were nippin’ your
heels.”

“
Maybe they
are.”

A peel of laughter escaped Addie’s
lips, though they still turned down, and she rolled her eyes.
“That’d be the day.”

More like the four corners
were hounding me like a wild hog on the run
, but that thought never made it past the tip of my tongue.
My trust in others had diminished, and though I quite liked her, I
knew better than to get attached.

Brevin, though, well, he and I, that
was different. It was a bond of mutual respect and affection. That
little man in the making needed me as much as I needed him, and
he’d quickly wormed his way in.

“
You really should have
some,” Addie pouted, going back to her usual henny-pecky
self—nagging. No one could nag like Adamina. Long, slender fingers,
tipped with strong, feminine fingernails I envied, slowly encircled
the rim of my cup as she griped.

“
Why is that?” I teased,
stalling. A small tap at the tiny window in front of me had me
glancing up. Brevin motioned for me to come outside, pressing a
finger to his lips as he gestured to Addie. Nodding once, I
motioned that he should go ‘round to the barn.

“
Like I said, it will
help.”

“
Oh? Help ease the pains,
or bring them on?”

The startled look on her face, falling
by a quick attempt to mask it, didn’t hide what I’d already
guessed.

But why?
I didn’t need my Other sense to tell me something
funny was going on here, suspicion creeping up on me, my own built
in natural born instincts, my gut as it dropped, guiding me on this
one

“
Speaking of milk, I’m
fresh out. The goat Brevin traded for the other day was full of
milk,” a wistful sigh left my lips, “and you know I’ve always
wanted to try my hand at it.” Excuses really. I needed a minute to
slip off and talk to Brevin, who’d always been wary of the tall,
commanding Addie, and mull over the knots forming in my stomach,
the more she spoke.

“
You’ve milked a cow,”
Addie grumbled sourly, “could it really be all that
different?”

Shrugging, I forced a smile I wasn’t
really feeling, hoping she bought it. “Only one way to find
out.”

“
Did you think about my
offer?”

I had, and maybe that’s
really when my skepticism, as of late, had kicked in. Adamina had
wanted me to go with her to her Aunts for a
spell—
a woman, me, of which she knows all
of but a few months—
thinking it would lift
the dark cloud that’s been hovering over me heavily, slowly sucking
all the joy out of everything until some days I went to bed crying,
not even sure why.

The haze of the blues washing over me
so thickly had smothered everything else for a time as I’d slipped
into it, muffling my worry over my friend, in favor of my thanks as
I’d tried to keep my head up and she’d been one to help.

I’d shucked off the idea of
it relating to Troll, my morose state, though I did wonder about
him, almost constantly. It was as if he’d vanished, not a trace,
not even a faint hum of a connection thrumming through me.
Had he died? Was he near? Far? What became of my
bonded? Did what he’d planned work?

Of course, in a sense, it
surely had. I felt nothing but my own stirrings for him, the
bonding stunted somehow, but my heart was still heavy at the
loss.
Would I ever heal?
I wondered.
Did I want
to?
Sometimes I think myself crazy,
thankful for the sadness that could often times consume me, more
often most recently than not, a sharp reminder to appreciate the
good days.

I hadn’t realized, up until
now, how much it truly had taken me over. Now, as I stared at
Addie, I felt nothing but suspicion, a heaping helping of doubt.
Why? Why? A thousand why’s.
Why did she
offer to help me, a veritable stranger? Why did I let her, and so
quickly? Why is she offering to put me up with her
relations?
Really, though I’ll admit we’ve
grown close, I had to cast my doubts.
In
all of this, what was in it for her?

Nothing is ever free...
There’s always a price to pay.
What’s her
price? How steep the toll?

“
When do you leave?” I
forced the words past dry lips. My little one rolled around, giving
a good jab to my insides that had me grunting.

“
Two days hence. I thought
to leave at dawn, then we could make it there by night fall, as
long as we travel straight through.”

She chattered on a little more, but I
was having a hard time following. An odd pain wrapping around my
middle, shooting down my back, I grunted again, wincing, though I
tried so hard not to, as all the air rushed out of me.

“
Petty... are you
alright.”

“
Fine,” I gritted out,
laughing to cover up the groan ready to slip out.

“
You sure?” There was a
shrewdness in her gaze that told me she sensed the lie, though she
didn’t voice it aloud. Something in her pricked, ticking at me, and
that’s when my Other sense kicked in.

“
Look. Quit asking me about
my rumbling intestines and let me rush out so I don’t embarrass us
both so hard you pass out from the stench alone, huh? I ate too
much bean soup last night. Is that a crime?” Voice rising as I put
on a show, senses clawing at me to get away, I upped my huffy
tirade, muttering and grumbling as I stormed past her.

Lips thinning, Addie stared down at
her nails, clearing her slender throat delicately. “Suit
yourself.”

“
And, yes, I’ve a craving
for milk, I’m with child, and I intend to indulge my appetites.”
Glaring over my shoulder at Addie, daring her to argue, she tossed
her hands up—a sign of surrender.

“
Go. Milk away, then.” With
a flick of her wrist, she waved me off. “Just don’t have that babe
doing it.”

“
Thank you.” Instantly
settling, as far as she could tell, I smiled as I opened the door,
forcing my shoulders to relax. “Glad you approve. And, hey, maybe
it will make that witch’s brew smell better,” I tossed over my
shoulder.

“
Does that mean you’ll
drink it?” Addie shot back.

Her insistence with her drinks had
never struck me as odd before, but they did now.

“
I’ll do you one better.”
Plucking it up, I waggled it at her and cupped it in my hands,
dutifully carrying it out with me.

“
I’ve been giving you that
particular concoction all week,” she admitted on a blurt, propping
her chin on her hand as she put her elbows up on the table, turning
enough so she could face me.