The Wayfarer King (24 page)

“Awright,” Red said. “Do you want me to kill him?”

“You can’t kill him, Red,” Brodas said with a derisive chuckle. “He has a contingent of guards around him, not to mention some powerful magic at his disposal. Let me know when he arrives.”

“What’s next, my liege?” Cirang asked. Now and then, she touched her coin pouch, as if to reassure herself that the coins were still there.

After four days of travel, he was ready to find nice, quiet lodgings where no one would question his comings, goings and activities. Beyond a day or two, an inn was out of the question. The last thing he wanted was someone noticing any blood spatter that might land on his clothing or Red’s. A secluded cottage would be ideal, one whose residents wouldn’t be noticed or missed. “I need to find a more effective temporary residence — preferably one with a cellar.”

Chapter 32

The children each selected two changes of clothes, which Feanna stuffed into an old satchel Henrik had kept for traveling. Adro helped Trevick hitch the wagon to Feanna’s white dray horse. Once the windows were shuttered and the doors locked, everyone climbed into the wagon, and they started off. Adro rode astride his white warhorse, which appeared calm yet responsive.

Trevick brooded for the first hour of the journey. He’d wanted to stay home and look after the farm, but Feanna feared leaving him alone, considering the recent beyonder visit. Had Gavin not been there... she hated to think what might have happened. The children chattered, mostly Iriel bragging about how she would kill beyonders if they ran into any because she was going to be a Viragon sister like Miss Daia. Feanna sat on the bench in the front of the wagon to drive the horse, and Adro rode alongside and made polite conversation. She let Trevick drive for a time while she sat in the wagon with the girls.

After a couple of hours, everyone grew quiet, and they rode in silent companionship, listening to the sounds of hawks above and the buzzing of insects around them. The road was a narrow dirt track in the center of a cleared strip of forest. The woods on either side were thick, and the sunlight filtered through the trees for most of the journey, even when the sun was highest in the sky. Although the ride was quiet and serene, Feanna couldn’t stop worrying about what had befallen Gavin. She checked the feelings from his warrant tag twice more, each time feeling nothing but dead, empty wood and renewing her anxiety.

Now and then Adro broke off to ride ahead and scout for danger. On one such scouting mission, he was gone longer than he’d been on the others, and Feanna began to worry that something had happened to him.

“Is he coming back?” Tansa asked in a trembling voice.

“Of course he is, sweetie,” Feanna answered, trying to sound confident. “He probably saw something suspicious and went to investigate. He’ll keep us safe.” She scanned the forest as they continued, looking and listening for signs of him.

“What if he doesn’t?”

She heard something — a distant voice in the trees. “Hush, children. Listen.” She pulled the reins to stop the horse. Everyone quieted, looking at each other with heads tilted.

“Feanna!” Behind them, Adro’s voice, barely audible, echoed through the trees. “Hello!”

“Behind us,” Trevick said, pointing.

“I can’t turn the wagon around here. Iriel, stay with your sisters and don’t get out of the wagon. Trevick, come with me.” She climbed off the bench while Trevick hopped to the ground and drew his long knife. They started back the way they’d come. Cupping her hands around her mouth, Feanna yelled, “Adro. Over here.”

Momentarily, she heard the distant sound of someone crashing through the underbrush, and she gradually made out a male form approaching. She and Trevick waved their arms and yelled for him, stopping when he waved one arm to acknowledge he’d seen them.

By the way he was limping, she grew alarmed. Where was his horse? As he neared, she could see that his shirt was torn and bloody, and his left arm was bleeding badly. “Oh dear!” She gathered her skirts and rushed to meet him. Ducking under his right arm, she clutched him about the waist to assist him. “What happened?”

Trevick took the pack from his hand and offered the skin of water he had around his neck. Adro nodded his thanks and guzzled the water.

“Beyonders,” he said at last. “Three of them. Killed my horse. The saddle’s back a little ways if you don’t mind getting it, Trevick.”

With a nod, Trevick jogged into the forest, following the path Adro had made in the old fallen leaves.

“Let’s get you to the wagon. We have supplies and clean water to tend your wounds. I’m not a bad medic.”

Adro stumbled, and Feanna clutched him tighter, grasping him to hold him steady. His right arm tightened around her, drawing her close. Too close. In a moment of awkward realization that their bodies were pressed against one another, Feanna started to look away and apologize. His lips descended on hers. The kiss took her by surprise, and without thinking, she put her hand on his chest and shoved. He fell to the ground with an “Ooof.”

The realization of having knocked down an injured man, one who’d nearly been killed defending her and the children, horrified her. “Oh! Adro, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Adro said at the same time. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It was my fault completely. Please forgive me.”

“Let me help you up.” She took him by his right arm to help him stand. “I shouldn’t have shoved you.” They started walking again.

“No, no, my lady,” he said. His face was pink, and he kept his eyes lowered. “I deserved that. A thousand pardons. It must be the pain clouding my thoughts.”

“You poor thing. We can find some licorice root along the way. Iriel knows what to look for. I’m sorry about your horse. What will you do?”

“I’ve some money saved, but a good battle mount isn’t easy to come by. Different kind of beast from the one pullin’ your wagon.”

Feanna smirked. “I can imagine. Nellie’s as gentle as they come but not terribly bright. How did you get behind us?”

“The beyonders were on the road ahead, and I had to keep their attention on me. If they’d seen you, they’ve had gone after you or the children. So I lured them into the woods far enough from the road that they wouldn’t hear you pass.”

Feanna’s face tingled. She hadn’t realized how much danger he’d put himself in to protect his charges. “That was quite noble of you, Adro.”

Although his smile looked more like a grimace, his charming dimples came through. “It’s my job, m’lady. I wouldn’t be much of a warrant knight if I’d let them attack you.”

At their approach, the girls rushed to Adro’s side. Iriel bombarded him with questions about the beyonders and how he’d slain them, apparently failing to notice that he’d suffered greatly in the battle. As they helped him climb into the wagon, a pale-faced Trevick arrived with the saddle and blanket Adro had left behind. The spatter of liquid on the front of his shirt could have been spilt water, except that Adro still had the skin.

Not one to complain or admit weakness, Trevick climbed onto the bench and drove the horse. He cast wary glances around them as they continued toward Tern. Tansa and Jilly huddled together, whispering and trying to focus on their dolls, but Iriel was completely unfazed by the blood or Adro’s battle wounds.

With Adro’s shirt in tatters, it made more sense to simply remove it. Rather than trying to pull it off over his head and taxing his injuries, she used Trevick’s knife to cut it off him. Adro’s bare chest was lightly covered with curling blond hair, and his skin was tanned as though he spent a good deal of time under the sun shirtless. While not as large as Gavin, he was muscular and strong, with very little extra flesh. With every movement, the muscles rippled visibly under his skin. Without his shirt on, she could plainly see why he wore long sleeves. He had the brand of a criminal on the inside of his left forearm.

Iriel watched with rapt attention while Feanna cleaned each cut and puncture wound. Feanna had her dab the fresh blood from each wound while she did her best to stitch it closed. When she got to the cuts on his arm, she said, “This doesn’t look like a battle scar.”

Pink rose to his cheeks. “Figured you’d ask about that. Not somethin’ I’m proud of.”

“I wouldn’t imagine.” She wanted to know what he’d done but didn’t want to press him into talking about something that clearly embarrassed him. Everyone had a past, and not everyone’s past was rosy, including her own.

“I try to keep it covered and forget that life. I’m not that buck anymore. You don’t have cause to worry, Miss Feanna. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

She
shifted
, felt his anguish and shame and knew he was telling the truth. “I know, Adro. It’s all right. I wouldn’t have hired you if I’d had doubts. Who did you say issued your warrant tag?” It lay against his chest on its leather thong. The emblem looked the same as the one on Gavin’s warrant tag.

“The Lordover Lalorian. He’s a good man, one of the best I’ve known.”

“Do you perchance know Gavin Kinshield?”

He started. “Yeh, I know Gavin. He’s the one who branded me. He’s also the one who set me on a straighter path. I call him a friend. Do you as well?”

Relieved, Feanna nodded. “I do. More than a friend, in fact.” She didn’t know how, exactly, to define her relationship with Gavin. He was obviously interested in courting her, but he hadn’t formally declared his intentions. He didn’t seem the sort to follow the conventions of the aristocracy, though. “It’s his warrant tag I wear.”

Adro’s face fell. “Oh. I understand now. He’s courting you, and I’ve made a fool of myself.“ He smiled, dimpling his cheeks.

“There,” Feanna said, as she tied the last bandage. She patted his arm. “Don’t give it another thought. Do you know Gavin well?”

“Yeh, fairly well,” Adro began, though he seemed reluctant to elaborate. He didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on his right hand as he picked the grime out from under his nails. “Of course I only know him as a man knows another. You know, tipped a few ales with him, battled brigands with him, bragged about the— uh, sorts of things men brag about. I don’t know another I’d rather have on my side. If you were my sister, I’d trust him to provide for you, although—”

Feanna cocked her head. “Although what?”

He shook his head. “I ought to let Gavin tell you what secrets he has. It’s not my business to say. It might be just rumors, anyway. You know how whores like to talk.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. She supposed that Gavin, like any other man, would have needs, but... whores?

“Oh, hell,” Adro muttered, shutting his eyes. “I’m sorry, Miss Feanna. I shouldn’t have said anything. Gavin’s an honorable buck. If he thought he had bastards, he’d be raisin’ them hisself.”

“Bastards?” She felt the warmth of shame spread over her face. If Gavin was such a rogue, why would Liera have tried so hard to bring them together? A quick touch of Adro’s arm revealed his deceit. Why would he have said such things? How much of it was true?

Chapter 33

Gavin found Bahnna squatting by the bank of the stream. When he approached, she didn’t bother looking up. “Pour water over the stone while I carve the rune.” She’d chosen a flat stone, about two inches in diameter — small enough to fit completely in his fist. It lay atop a larger rock, nestled in an indentation in its surface.

“I ain’t laying with you, you know. No matter what you say. Make the rune because you want me to help your realm.”

Her smile made his skin crawl. “When you hear my song, you will be enraptured. You will do as I say. Now pour.”

The hell he would. He gripped his will with an iron fist and squatted beside her, while reining in the instinct to use his sword to put an end to her vile presence. He scooped water from the stream into his cupped hands and opened a gap between them to let water trickle onto the surface of the stone. When his hands were empty, he did it again.

Bahnna hummed softly, a curious sound. He wouldn’t have described the song as beautiful, but it was unlike any song he’d ever heard coming from one being, both in its tritonal harmonics and its warbling melody. It was three parts of a song sung by one mouth, which Gavin supposed was the main reason it was so mesmerizing. “Otra kerven,” she said. With the tip of her finger, she traced a line on the surface of the rock, which smoked and sizzled when he poured water onto it. In her finger’s path, dark lines appeared and deepened, like a sign-maker burning words into wood. When she finished, the rune resembled two columns of four parallel lines and one wider line beneath. From a distance, it resembled the letter U. She handed it to him. “It is called Taendat.”