Chapter Thirty-Four

 

 

After handing Jer his pack and leading Aren into his home, Av locked the door. There was a prickling through his scalp that made him lock the back door, then check both the bathing room and pantry before he allowed Aren into the bathing room to relieve herself.

When Aren left the bathing room, Av was waiting for her. He swung her about and kissed her, stripping off the training clothing she had worn for too many days as they stumbled to the bed. Thrusting into her did not make her seem any more real, any more there. Av felt as if Aren was days away and almost out of sight. When they finished, when he collapsed to the side, she drifted off to sleep, a little smile on her face.

She looked pretty, when she smiled.

Av tried to cut the thought short, but he realized too late that he was sliding sideways into sleep.

Waking in the early evening, he found Aren poking the hearth, a frown on her face. All she wore was one of his shirts, pulled from the wardrobe which now stood open. He sat up and made a questioning sound.

Aren stopped, iron poker in her hand and a curious look on her face. “How do you make it start?”

“Make what start?” Av said, finding his pants with bleary eyes. By the time he pulled on some sort of covering the bleariness was gone. He crossed the living area and took the iron poker from her. “You mean the fire? How to start a fire?”

“The coals are cold,” Aren said to him. “Do you have to say a word or clap your hands? How does it begin?”

Av blinked at Aren. He walked to the pantry and returned with flint and a blade. “With flint, a spark, and a bit of skill.”

“No, that's silly,” Aren said. “There's always coal or fire.”

He struck the blade against the flint the way he always had, creating a spark. Aren leapt away from him, putting the table between him and her.

“What is that! Is that magic?”

Av held up the flint. “This is called flint, you strike it to create a spark, the spark hits something dry—say some grandfather's beard, the moss—and it can begin to smoke, this smoke can then be worked to create a flame. You've never had to make your own fire?”

“From coal, even almost dead coal, certainly, but not from a stone,” Aren moved around the table slowly. She reached out and took the flint from Av, turning it over in her hands. “How does this contain fire? The stone is cold against my flesh.”

“It's not magic, it's flint,” Av said, taking the stone from Aren.

She seemed so simple suddenly, so lost, as she watched Av create a spark and work the hearth until he had a little flame going. Adding wood to the flames, bringing out a healthy fire, Av stepped away. Aren watched him sceptically.

“I do not understand.”

Av thought a long time. “Well, do you believe that when it rains, it's magic?”

“The spirits make it rain, they make the trees grow and grapes full,” Aren said.

Av chewed his bottom lip. “How about this: how do the spirits make it rain?”

“Magic?” Aren asked.

“How do the spirits have magic?”

Aren made a sound that was almost a snort. “Everyone knows that queens have to serve, even after death.”

“Fair enough,” Av said, moving to the pantry. “Your beliefs are pretty firm.”

“It's not a belief, it's what happens,” Aren said.

“My mother told me that it rained because there was water in the sky, and plants grow when they have sunlight, good soil, water as they need,” Av said.

“Well, yes, of course, but without good spirits, nothing would grow,” Aren responded.

“Do you believe it magic when a nail holds a board?” Av asked.

“No, that is a man-made thing. But a stone is not a man-made thing,” Aren said pointedly.

“True, but it is man who puts it to use, just as man can use water to kill another.” Av walked into the pantry and returned with the last two eggs and a few potatoes. He returned to the living area with the items and set them on the table. “Not magic, just man using nature to do his bidding, yes?”

“I suppose,” Aren said. “But I still say it's magic.”

“To you it is magic, to me it is knowledge.”

Av made food and served Aren, then himself. Sitting down to eat, Av picked at his food while Aren gorged herself. He offered over the extra from his own plate and Aren ate that before she hesitated, looking over the hearth. It only then occurred to her that there was no more food.

He stood to make more.

“Still hungry?” he asked her.

“You didn't eat,” she said.

Hand on the pantry door, Av stopped, turning to Aren.

“What?”

No one had ever bothered noticing whether he had eaten or not.

“You didn't eat,” Aren said, suddenly finding the bossy that her rank was known for.

“I fed you,” Av said. “That was the point of that.”

“But you didn't eat.”

“Are you still hungry, was my question and I asked you first,” Av said.

“I will eat more only if you eat with me,” Aren responded.

“Very well.” Av went about making more food in a larger quantity than he had before.

He served Aren then himself again and sat to a second meal. Aren picked at her food, watching Av do the same. She peered at him. Av felt as if his mother were sitting across from him, waiting for him to finish his meal. Setting down his utensil, Av folded his hands and set them on the table.

“What, Aren?”

“You aren't eating like a man of your size should, I've seen you eat,” she said pointedly, stabbing at him with her utensil. “What's eating at you?”

“You sound like my mother,” Av said.

“Oh, good, you'll let me go then. Eat your vegetables and clean behind your ears,” Aren said quickly. “Also, have you done your tutoring work today? It is very important for a growing boy.”

“I—I didn't mean like that,” Av said, holding up his hands to stop her. “I mean, how did you know? That something was bothering me? Jer and I grew up together, and he can barely tell when things are nagging at the back of my mind.”

“I've seen that look before, when something was bothering me and I couldn't quite say what.” Aren poked at her food, then brought some to her mouth to chew thoughtfully. “The last time I had that look my father had offered to send me to court and I felt poorly about it. Nagged at me and I picked at my food and my mother said I was becoming a lady.”

“That's a terrible thing to say to a young woman about food,” Av responded.

Aren looked at Av, her hand poised halfway to her mouth. Gritting his teeth, Av picked up his utensil and brought some food to his mouth, chewing and swallowing before Aren was satisfied and began eating once more.

“My sister came to me later with a bowl of hash, what the servants were fed,” Aren said, chewing a mouthful before she spoke once more. “I told her my fears and my worries, I told her that I felt as if leaving for court was a finality, that if I came to the palace I would never return.”

“What did she say to that?” Av asked.

“She said, with all the brevity a ten-year-old could muster, that I was afraid of making a future for myself and afraid that by leaving I would somehow make everything wrong for her. Not that I was afraid of failure but I was afraid of doing what I was brought into the world to do. She finished by calling me a dung-head and insulting our mother, but the insult seemed pretty accurate.”

“Did she know about you?” Av said, bringing more food to his mouth as Aren watched him.

“No, Av,” Aren said. “She's ten years old. There's no way I could tell a ten-year-old my deepest, darkest secret.”

“Do you think she suspected?”

“No, and you are avoiding the question—why are you upset?” Aren said.

Av poked at the food before him. “I don't know. I feel as if you are far away from me.”

“We are not lovers,” Aren said.

“Not like that,” Av said quickly, though he did feel a keen pain at Aren making that statement so quickly. “I feel as if you could be gone tomorrow, but not because I'm attached to you. Instead it's more as if. I don't know. I don't know how to describe the feeling.”

“Could you be worried that I might be in danger?” Aren asked.

“Yes!”

“Welcome to the palace, Av,” Aren said blandly. “Since coming here I've been abandoned, taken ill, started an outbreak, been stabbed, almost killed a man, was almost killed myself not once, but twice, and then claimed by some random man.”

“To be fair, I don't think Em would have been able to kill you,” Av said. “She hasn't a violent bone in her body. Em will banish a rival, not slaughter them. Though she has killed commoners and several ladies have disappeared after questioning her. Still, queens have little to fear from her.”

“I doubt that would be your view, had you had her atop you, trying to beat you into the ground,” Aren said. “No matter how weak the beating was.”

Av ate a little more. Aren cleared her plate and went about cleaning the dishes that Av had dirtied making both meals. When the hearth area was clean once more, Aren returned to the bed, pulled the blankets back and climbed under them, content.

He watched until he was certain she was asleep. Only then did he stand, placing the items that were left near enough to the hearth to keep warm. Sometime in the night, Av knew, he would be hungry and there would be food for him to eat. Av cleaned his plate, set it where it belonged in the dish cupboard and climbed into bed beside Aren.

Wondering all the while what it was about this woman that drove him to keep her around, and yet deny every reason to do so at the same time.