Maeve was glad Roderick couldn’t leave his bed to see this. She stayed on the battlements long past when the other witches left and stared at the gibbet. Two more bodies had joined Jane, Rebecca and Molly. Two women who had raised their voices in her defense and now swung lifelessly beside the others.
Her face blackened and bloodied, the matron who had first challenged Agnes hung beside a younger woman.
Pinned to the top of the gibbet, a rough wooden sign stated in hasty rust-colored letters: Witches Must Die.
Edana joined her at the parapet and leaned forward between the crenellations.
Maeve tensed, sure that whatever Edana had to say, she didn’t want to hear.
“Come to view your handiwork?” Edana sneered. “He deserves so much better than you.”
Possibly for the first time in their lives, she agreed with Edana. Roderick did deserve better. Better than her, for certain, but also better than a merciless bitch who used the death of innocent women to score a blow against a coven sister.
With Tahra, Roderick had experienced better, but for now he was stuck with her. Neither of them had chosen their bond, and for all her resistance, it was now Roderick who paid the price. “You’re right,” she said. “But until Goddess herself breaks this bond, I’m all he has.”
She turned and walked away. Two younger witches scowled at her as she passed. Maeve wished she could say she grew immune to the hostility, but each glare scraped her raw.
Taking the back way to the barracks, via the training yards, she slipped into the main area where a few coimhdeacht lounged at tables. A small group by the window were playing dice. They glanced up when she entered, nodded, and went back to their game.
Through a rough arch, she entered the training area. Steel clanged as two men sparred. She skirted the sandy area and entered the sleeping rooms.
Thomas stepped out of the bathing area. A drying cloth rode the slim jut of his hips. Above the white cloth, water clung to the battle hewn lines of his chest.
A small smile tilting his mouth, Thomas sauntered toward her and stopped right in front of her. “Blessed.”
“Thomas.” Her throat dried and heat thrummed beneath her skin. She must be all shades of red if the warmth flooding her face was any indication.
Crowding even closer, until she could smell his clean skin and soap combination, Thomas tilted her chin up. His beautiful hazel eyes studied her. “Still persecuting yourself, I see?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow, calling her a liar.
The burden of guilt pressed down on her. “He was hurt, almost killed, because of me.”
“Maeve,” Thomas purred. “Roderick is hurt because it’s the nature of who he is. It’s the risk we all accept.” His gaze caressed her face and down over her breasts. “And for the most part, it’s a risk well worth taking.”
“Thomas, are you flirting with me?” She couldn’t be sure. The experience was that new to her.
White teeth flashing as he laughed, Thomas shook his head. “Clearly, I’m losing my touch.”
Maeve wouldn’t go that far. For the first time in days she felt like smiling.
“Thomas,” Roderick barked from behind Thomas.
Still grinning, Thomas turned and faced Roderick.
Roderick approached them, wearing his breeches and several bandages. He also wore the most ferocious frown Maeve had yet to see. Fortunately, he kept most of it reserved for Thomas. “Have you nothing better to do?”
“Not really.” Thomas winked at Maeve. “Not with you laid up.”
A muscle ticked in Roderick’s jaw, and his scowl deepened. “I’m back on my feet now.”
“How fortunate,” Thomas drawled and gave Maeve a melting smile. “We hardly knew how to entertain ourselves without you.”
Smirk still in place, he brushed past Maeve and whispered in her ear, “And yes, I was flirting. Think about it.”
Roderick stood there and glowered.
While he did, she took a moment to compare a near naked Roderick to a near naked Thomas.
And thank you, Goddess, for showering your bounty on this worthless witch.
“Are you feeling better?” Roderick was broader than Thomas but an inch or so shorter. Thomas resembled a wolf: rangy, strong and graceful. Roderick was all prime bull. The thought made her snort with laughter.
Roderick’s cold gaze snapped back to her. “Watch out for Thomas. He likes a new conquest in his sheets.”
“It would be an improvement to being drowned while still a virgin.” She had spoken before she could censor her thought.
Roderick’s eyes widened.
Even knowing it was a lost cause, she clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Maeve.” Roderick’s expression changed. Intent and slumberous, he gazed down at her. “There are better men to help you with that.”
“Like who?” She glanced about them.
Roderick grasped her elbow and walked her back to his chamber. “Where have you been? And Thomas is right, you look like a whipped dog.”
“Thomas never said that.” She nearly tripped over her feet. “Could we go back to the last thing.”
He frowned. “The whipped dog?”
“Before that.” Maeve dug her heels in and forced him to stop.
Flashing her a grin at least as wicked as Thomas’s, Roderick stopped. “You mean the part about other men?”
Her face nearly exploded with heat. “Yes, that part.”
“Don’t look so shocked, Maeve.” Roderick touched her cheek. “You’re lovely and Thomas isn’t the only one to notice.” He got them moving again. “Now tell me what has got under your skin?”
“I was on the parapet, and Edana joined me there.” Guilt returned and chased other thoughts away. “Two more villagers have been hanged.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Roderick scowled. “I’m sure Edana used their deaths to heap the blame on you.”
“It’s no more than I deserve.”
“Maeve.” Roderick stopped and gripped her shoulders. “None of this is your fault.”
She gazed at the bandages still strapped over his middle. “I’m certain that it is.”
“The dissention in the village had been brewing for a while.” Roderick slid his arm around her shoulders. “And now we know who is behind it.”
Maeve allowed herself to be enfolded in his warmth. Her cheek pressed to the smooth skin of his chest, his waist trim and strong as she slid her arms about him. He was her coimhdeacht; she was allowed to draw comfort from him. She wouldn’t be the first witch to do so. And more.
“But I have more bad news.” His voice rumbled beneath her ear. “Sheila was just with me.”
Maeve’s belly dropped. She read the answer through their bond.
“The young healer. Rose?” Roderick’s big hand spanned her back. “She has contracted the village contagion.”
Maeve reeled. Even as the logical part of her brain rejected the accusation, guilt wriggled round to the side door and let himself in. Determined to prove to all those misguided enough to side with Fiona and the council that she knew better, she’d allowed pride to lead them here.
“That’s not your fault either.” Roderick leaned closer to her and spoke beside her ear.
“Rose is ill,” she said. “She’s infected with whatever ails the village.”
“And the healers chose to take her. She wanted to help because she had family in the village.” Roderick hissed a breath and eased back from her.
“You should be in bed.” She needn’t have bothered, as Roderick would only do as he deemed necessary.
“And you should stop taking responsibility for that which isn’t yours to shoulder.” Roderick shifted his weight and eased closer to her. “Let me guess what you’re thinking.”
Maeve shrugged. What a pity it had taken this to have her and Roderick groping their way toward functioning as a pair.
He took her shrug as permission and folded his arms. “You’re thinking that if not for you and your stubborn insistence on showing the healers the way to the village, I wouldn’t have been hurt, and the others wouldn’t have been exposed to the danger.” He sniffed. “And in this you’re right.”
“Thanks.” She hastily stamped on the hurt. She much preferred Thomas’s version of comfort.
“I speak only the truth.” He shrugged. “I’ll never lie to you, Blessed. Of this you can be sure. Sometimes the truth I offer won’t be welcome, but it’ll always be the truth as I see it.” He took her hand. “I tell you this, so you’ll know you may always trust my word. I’ll never soften the truth to spare your feelings, nor will I allow you to shoulder what isn’t yours to bear.”
Maeve stared at where her hand was engulfed by his much larger one. “I should have listened to you.”
“Maybe.” He squeezed her hand. “But you acted with your conscience, and for that I can’t fault you. You believed the villagers needed the healers, and it was the healers who made the decision to go. You merely provided the path. They chose to set their feet upon it. Look at me.”
He waited until she dragged her gaze up to his.
The cold blue of his eyes warmed. “And now Edana comes and whispers her poison in your ear. I’ve seen fighting men like her. Their gift is in understanding their opponent’s weakness and homing in on it with unerring skill. But as skilled as she is at it, you’re the one who allows her into your mind. It’s you who gives her poison a home.” He turned then and limped away from her.
“Roderick.” She followed him. “Do you think I did the right thing?”
He growled at her over his shoulder. “Again, Blessed, you’re short of hearing. It matters not whether I think you did the right thing. It matters only whether you think you did.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then ask yourself this,” he said. “If knowing what you know now, you were presented with the same choice, do you still believe you did the right thing in taking the healers to the village?”