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“I’m glad Molly agreed to take them on. I haven’t had to do dishes even once this week. It’s like we hired a crippled little maid.”
“And I haven’t had to chop firewood at all.”
“The husband is so massive he could probably fell an entire tree, drag it behind the caravan until the next village, and not break a sweat. We could just hack off a limb anytime we needed.”
“But then he would lose the nightly excuse to be alone with his woman. Besides, there’s no trees that big out on these damn plains.”
“They do seem quite eager, don’t they? After how many years of marriage, and he still undresses her with his eyes at every glance.”
“I think he looks at her like a predator, like he’s a wolf and she’s a particularly delicious rabbit.”
“She’s a very lucky rabbit then.”
Times like this made Lorcan wish his keen fae hearing could be a bit more selective. He pushed off the wagon he’d been leaning against, determined to put some distance between himself and the derisive laughter of Nik and Ombriel. It was good for this troupe that neither of them were trying their hand at being an oracle, Lorcan thought to himself. Clearly they didn’t know the first thing about reading body language and expression. All he wanted from Marion was information on Morath, and once he had that he would be gone. If he was stripping anything from her with his eyes, it was her secrets and reluctance, not her clothing. Shaking his head impatiently, he headed toward the edge of camp in search of some peace and quiet.
Apparently, the same idea had possessed Marion. He found her apart from the others, kneeling over a bucket of soapy water, the dishes from that evening’s meal stacked in a precarious tower to one side. Lorcan watched from a distance as she dunked a bowl into the sudsy bucket, used a cloth to scour away the remnants of stew, and then rinsed it in a second basin of clean water. Dunk, wash, rinse, repeat; the pile of dishes dwindled as she methodically worked. The sleeves of her white shirt were rolled up to expose the thin cord of muscle along her forearms. She bent over to scrub vigorously at an especially dirty dish, and either didn’t notice or didn’t care that water splashed repeatedly onto her neck and chest. Loose strands of dark hair escaped her bun and became stuck to her skin in the moisture. Lorcan’s gaze was momentarily transfixed by a droplet of water wending down over her collarbone and under the neckline of her shirt. Suddenly forgetting his earlier resolution to be alone, he found himself walking toward her.
Marion had an uncanny way of sensing he was near, despite the utter silence with which he moved. He saw her shoulders tense before she glanced in his direction, not bothering to slow her tireless dish washing. She did not generally welcome his presence. In fact, she seemed to be determinedly avoiding him during their journey across the plains, in spite of her insistence that they maintain this ridiculous charade of marriage. Lorcan found her reticence rather irritating. Of course, that was only because she was making it so damn difficult to get the information he wanted.
“Do you need something?” Shit. He had no reason to be approaching her, and wasn't even sure why he had done it. He searched for a plausible excuse.
“The camp needs more water, since you used it all to clean the dishes.”
“Ah yes, I’m so sorry I inconvenienced everyone by cleaning after them for the eighth night in a row,” she retorted.
“I’ll make sure Ombriel does them tomorrow.” She looked up at him, finally pausing her cycle of washing. There was surprise in her eyes, mixed with suspicion.
“Why would you do such a thing?” Lorcan supposed that was a fair question. After all, wasn’t any gesture of kindness he showed her just part of the long game, just a manipulation?
“I’m not going to let these people treat you like their slave.” It was his turn to be surprised, as he felt the truthfulness of the statement. Ombriel’s laughter had bothered him more than he realized; Marion was a free woman now, and should be treated as such. She studied him openly and curiously enough that he hastened to add, “A human husband would be the one ordering you around, and not letting them do it. If they aren’t convinced, this act becomes more difficult.” Her eyes shuttered at that, curiosity replaced by the usual disdain. Lorcan found it suddenly difficult to meet that dark stare.
“I’m not sure she would listen to you,” Marion replied, finally releasing him from her steely gaze.
“Humans generally do what I want.” Except you. From the quirk of her eyebrows, she was thinking the same thing. “We should get the water before the sun sets. I can smell a stream less than a mile away.”
The stream was mightier than the trickle Lorcan had expected. The otherwise resolutely flat landscape took a sudden downturn, grassy banks sloping toward the rain-swollen current below. Nestled among the plants and scattered through the dark soil were signs of activity, of a thriving ecosystem in the seemingly barren plains. Hoof prints were sunk into the mud where a group of animals had leaned in to drink the cool, clear water. Small insects hidden among the grasses sent their chirps spiraling into the evening skies. A cluster of reeds were bent where a predator had lain in wait, watching its prey. Marion was taking in her surroundings with quiet joy and contentment. Years of imprisonment behind stone walls had clearly given her an appreciation for the beauty of the natural world, which Lorcan couldn’t help but admire about her. He had seen solitude and despair bring out the most vile facets of even strong-willed females. And yet, here she was, smiling at the bubbling and babbling of the water as though it whispered secrets just for her.
“We finished with the two floors below the aeries. Keep going from there.” Lorcan ignored his distant pang of regret as that smile faded, shifting into a scowl directed solely at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You know the bargain we made.”
“How could I forget?” She sighed. “I only went inside about half of the rooms on that floor, but I remember the layout fairly well.” And so she continued, shaping a mental map with the clarity of memory and attention to detail that Lorcan had come to expect from her. He could so clearly see the images she described that she might as well be leading him down the hall by the hand, her low voice echoing on the cold stone.
Lorcan's gaze dropped to her hands then, watching her hold a bucket in the rushing stream. Her fingers looked so delicate as they wrapped around the handle, but her grip was strong as she lifted the heavy, water-laden bucket and set it on the bank. Filling his own buckets, he found himself suddenly wandering into a different mental image; Marion was not limping through dark passages, but was laid bare on the soft grasses in the glow of the setting sun. With uninterrupted hours ahead of them, he could find out exactly how strong and steady her fingers could grip. Despite the warm air, he shivered ever so slightly as he imagined the soft scrape of her callouses on his一
"Are you even listening to me?" Lorcan blinked himself back to the present, where Marion stood with her eyebrows raised and arms crossed.
"Yes." The response was just a little too quick to sound natural, so he added "It will be dark soon. We should head back." She studied him in silence. He wondered, not for the first time, what thoughts were swirling behind those cunning eyes. She listened and perceived with rare skill, her quick mind identifying the useful information hidden in even seemingly mundane observations. But was that adroitness born of her own innate intelligence, or did some dark, unknown power whisper in her ear? Lorcan had sensed that mysterious force so infrequently, had such brief glimpses, that he might have thought it an illusion had his every instinct not recoiled from it in dread.
For a moment, Marion's lips parted as though she might let him in on the secret, just this once. But then her back was turned, and she was trudging up the grassy slope with her buckets in tow. He sent out a tendril of power to wrap supportively around her ankle, steadying her walk. She paused for a moment, adjusting to the brace, but did not turn back. Lorcan realized belatedly that he had allowed her to limp the entire journey to the stream, not once thinking to assist her. The thought left him feeling strangely disappointed with himself. But surely that was because the strategic move would be to make her as comfortable as possible, so that she would divulge more information.
Perhaps if Lorcan hadn't been so preoccupied with his confusion over this mortal woman, he would have sensed the danger awaiting her at the top of the hill.
Elide was simultaneously glad for the excuse to end their daily interrogation, and resisting the urge to turn back. She sometimes had the fleeting impression that Lorcan wanted to know more than the layout of Morath, that he wanted to know about her as well. He asked her few directly personal questions, but there was something about the way he looked into her eyes, like he was trying to dive in and swim beneath her surface.
Surely, she was mistaken. He was an immortal warrior who didn’t even know her real name, and she was nothing to him but an obstacle and a burden. So Elide did not turn back. Even when she felt that ribbon of his power tie itself gently around her scars, she kept her eyes forward. And yet, she did not see the group of bear cubs until she crested the hill directly into their midst.
The three cubs seemed to be just as shocked as Elide. She had interrupted them while they played, looking just like any group of human siblings as they wrestled with and batted at one another. But now they stood frozen一 old enough to be wary of humans, but too young to attack. One cub still had his sister’s fuzzy brown ear in between his teeth. They looked so disarmingly sweet that Elide was just a moment delayed in realizing the danger. Where is your mother?
No sooner had she thought the question than an answering growl came thundering toward her on wide, claw-tipped paws. The cubs scattered, retreating behind the incoming mass of fur and muscle that was running straight for her, much faster than she had thought such a large creature could move. Fear grabbed hold of her limbs and momentarily held them in place. But she was Elide Lochan, honorary member of the Blackbeak clan and rightful Lady of Perranth, and she had faced much worse dangers and survived. Thinking fast, she dropped one pail, freeing her hand to grip the handle of the other. Twisting to the side for more momentum, she flung the unwieldy bucket toward the charging bear.
The animal was struck in the shoulder, rearing back with a roar of pain. Its advance slowed for only a few seconds, but that was all the time Lorcan needed to catch up to her. He stepped protectively in front of her, keeping her back with one arm while he raised the other toward the bear. It simply stopped. One paw was suspended in midair, ready to strike, in a horrible mockery of the young ones frozen at play. The only movement was in the eyes, wide and darting in fear as a dark wind circled it like the bars of some phantom cage. The cubs had run a small distance away but they turned back now, waiting for their mother to join them. Did they realize the sound of the insects had died away, that the very air had stilled and the rushing water quieted, as though the land itself were holding its breath?
“Let it go. Let it return to the cubs.” He remained as he was, responding neither in movement nor words. “We don’t need to kill her. She only wanted to protect her children.” Still no response. Elide stepped out from behind the restraining arm to look into his face, and was quite alarmed by the expression she saw there. His mouth was twisted to the side, nostrils flaring, and his eyes were darkened by a cold fury that startled and confused her. But there was no time to ponder that now. Elide hesitantly laid a hand on his outstretched arm, the muscles taunt under her fingers. To her surprise, he did not flinch.
“Lorcan, listen to me. Let it go. How would we explain if the others found the body?” At the sound of his name he finally glanced down at her, his usual stony countenance returning as he did so.
“As you wish,” he said, sounding almost bored. He lowered his hand, releasing the poor creature. Sensing it was free, it turned and fled toward the cubs. Elide watched that massive animal run in fear, and for the first time she fully realized just who she was traveling with. The male beside her had only to raise a hand, and he declared himself the uncontested alpha predator on these plains.
None of these thoughts showed on her face as she asked carefully, “Why would you have killed it? It served no purpose.”
“I thought it would make a good meal,” he replied. Elide refrained from pointing out that they could hardly have explained themselves if they returned to camp with Lorcan carrying a fully grown bear five times his weight, dead from no visible wounds. “Nice throw,” he remarked, gesturing toward her impromptu weapon. The pail had splintered down the sides upon impact with the bear. Lorcan’s buckets lay toppled over a few feet away, discarded as he ran to protect her.
“We should refill the other buckets and get back,” was her only response. Night was falling in earnest now, and she had no desire to stumble back through the tall grasses in the dark.
They returned to the stream briefly, Lorcan filling two buckets to Elide’s one. And when they made to climb the bank once more, Elide was keenly aware of Lorcan shadowing her, keeping her in his sight at all times. Despite her usual attempts to maintain a healthy distance between them, she was oddly comforted by his nearness.
Even with the sloshing pails to carry and the dark falling in thick curtains over the horizon, the return journey was faster than the first. Elide knew that when it came to speed, she was the limiting factor, her human slowness compounded by her lame foot. But with the brace of Lorcan’s power, she was able to traverse the plains much more quickly. Neither of them mentioned it, but she saw him glance at her ankle a few times with an indecipherable expression on his face.
As they neared the circle of wagons, Elide found herself saying, “Thank you, for protecting me from the bear.”
“Just holding up my end of the bargain,” he responded quietly, without turning toward her. She ground her teeth in irritation, and did not reply. She remembered the lessons her mother had given her about manners and gratitude, and yet wanted nothing more than to dump water on this infuriating male’s head. Looking up at him briefly, she realized she wouldn’t be able to reach that high anyway, and silently fumed.
“I seem to recall you leaving with four buckets.” Molly stood with her hands on her hips at the edge of the camp, staring them down as they entered the glow of the firelight. Lorcan, being his usual helpful self, just scowled and offered no explanation.
“Yes, but I lost my grip on it in the stream and it broke apart on the rocks. I apologize,” Elide said, plastering on her most agreeable smile and setting down the remaining bucket.
“It’s coming out of your pay.” And with that, Molly turned her back on them. But as she walked away, Ombriel appeared to replace her. Elide withheld a groan of frustration. All she wanted was to lay down to sleep and put this whole day behind her. The raven-haired woman had a habit of cornering Elide and pummeling her with intrusive, personal questions. Whether that was because she didn’t trust Elide and Lorcan and was trying to find gaps in their story, or because she was incessantly nosy by nature, Elide didn’t know.
“Are you sure that’s how the bucket broke, Marion?” Ombriel asked, a sly smile on her face. “You didn’t perhaps... stand on it? Trying to reach something?”
Elide could see what the other woman was clumsily trying to insinuate, but she kept her amiable smile firmly in place as she said, “What would I need to reach, Ombriel? Streams are on the ground, last time I checked.”
“You two were gone for over an hour,” Ombriel replied with a smirk. “Don’t think you can fool me. I bet you were up on that bucket trying to get better leverage on your gigantic husband’s d一” The woman suddenly faltered, breaking off mid sentence as she looked up into the warrior male’s face. Lorcan had apparently forgotten he was meant to be an unremarkable human man, because the expression he turned on Ombriel was nothing short of predatory. His lip was curling back as though he were moments away from baring his canines at her, and that cold fury had returned to his eyes.
“You will not speak to my wife like this again,” he snarled at her. Ombriel nodded silently, wide-eyed. “As an apology, you will do the dishes and fetch the water tomorrow night.” More nodding as she backed away, then turned on her heel and practically ran back to the wagons, probably to tell Nik everything that had just transpired.
Elide knew that turning the troupe members against them was a dangerous game. If they were fearful and distrusting of the pair, then they would be primed to betray them if the opportunity presented itself. Just now though, she couldn’t find it in herself to be too upset about it. Her face had burned at Ombriel’s words, and watching her scamper off in terror was extremely satisfying.
She glanced up at Lorcan, his lips still curled in distaste as he watched Ombriel’s retreat. She knew better than to try and thank him again. Remembering his earlier promise to shift some chores onto Ombriel, she said, “I’m learning that you tend to keep your word.”
He looked down at her, the anger ebbing away, leaving his expression surprisingly soft. “Yes. Always,” came his quiet reply. Those dark eyes held her own for a long moment. Elide had that feeling again that his gaze was searching her, trying to plunge into her depths. She did not look away.
Twice tonight he had protected her without hesitation一 once from bodily harm and once from humiliation. Both times, he had sent the danger running away with barely a word or gesture on his part. Undisputed alpha predator indeed. Elide could not deny the thrill that went through her at the thought of all that lethal power devoted to her protection. Perhaps some of these thoughts showed on her face, because Lorcan finally broke their locked eyes only to slide his gaze down to her lips. He took a step toward her.
“Goodnight, Lorcan,” she said, turning away. His reply came only after she had taken several steps.
“Goodnight, Marion.” She paused at the sound of her mother’s name. Was she imagining the disappointment in his voice, the longing? For a brief, wild moment, she wanted to tell him her real name. But there was too much at stake here. So, Elide made the decision for the second time that night to keep walking away. But one thought pounded in her head with every step further from him: what would happen if she ever chose to stay?