Chapter 19 - Glory #2
“My father…” I cleared my throat and tried again.
“Just like me, he had to hide what he was. More challenging for him because he couldn’t go out in full sunlight and didn’t usually need to eat.
He was a journalist, which gave him the freedom to work strange hours, and he travelled quite a bit.
For the first few years of my life, his greatest priority was teaching me how to control my urges and tamp down my instincts.
Not the easiest lessons for a toddler. But he and mum were patient, and Dad had years of experience. But then one day…”
The lump that formed in my throat nearly choked me. How long had it been since I’d talked about my father? I thought of him almost every day, but with the exception of my mother, most of the world had probably forgotten he’d existed, he’d been that good at going unnoticed.
“He died.” There. Once the words were out, the rest of it came a bit easier.
“He was murdered, actually. He left to follow a story, and— well, we don’t really know what happened, but he never came home.
Because of the bond, Mum knew—she knew when his life gave out, and it broke something inside her.
She was still my mother, she was still loving and caring and did everything she could to make sure I could take care of myself, but a light in her eyes died when he did.
I was nine years old. Just old enough to appreciate that for all the beauty that exists in the bond, there’s endless pain as well.
” I forced a laugh. “It was enough to make me think that sort of connection wasn’t for me. Not when my future was so uncertain.”
“It never should have been like that,” Cammon said. “It shouldn’t be like that now. Not what happened to your father or that the policies of an indifferent ruler make you believe you don’t deserve to have something like what they shared. I’m sorry.”
The depth of his sincerity and his anger on my behalf were novel and intoxicating. Other than Ashara, who had ever spoken up for me before? Again I reminded myself that none of what ran through the bond was real, but oh, how I wished it were.
Pushing down my disappointment but allowing myself to feel grateful for his consideration, I offered him a weak smile.
“Who would I share it with? No one knows the truth about what I am, remember? It’s not like I could get into a relationship and keep something like that a secret forever.
I failed to hide it from you, and it’s only been a week.
No, solitude is my best guarantee of safety, and that’s what I’ll get when I return to King Evaniel with this amulet. ”
My foot slipped into another dip in the road, and again Cammon caught me, his strong arm tight around my waist. As I leaned my weight on him, exhaustion swept over me. “Do you think we’ve crossed the territory line yet?”
He chuckled. “And then some by now, I’d say. Think you can go a little farther?”
I groaned, and then gasped as he tugged my bags off my back and slung them over his shoulders.
“Better?”
I straightened, and the lack of pressure sagging on my spine made me feel a million times lighter. “Much. Thank you.” But again that nagging voice made me say, “You don’t have to do that. I’m more than capable of—”
“Stop. Maybe the bond is jerking me around, but considering you almost died tonight, I think you can give it a pass this once.” He grimaced.
“What do you have in here? That boulder I lifted at the mine? I can’t believe you’ve lugged this around for the past five days.
You must be stronger than I am.” He kicked his head towards the road.
“Come on. I have a place in mind for us to get a restful sleep for a change. After all the progress we’ve made so far, I don’t think your king can begrudge us a bit of a break. ”
I wasn’t sure about that but didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Exhausted as I was, we continued in silence, Cammon’s presence a comforting bolster against the memories our conversation had evoked.
Gradually, I noticed signs of civilization. A farmstead to the left, with grazing cattle peppering the open fields, and cornrows taller than me to my right.
More farms appeared as we went along, giving way to tidy cottages with laundry hanging outside to dry. A river gurgled nearby, and a woman carting a bucket of water trudged towards a small cabin.
Finally the cottages were replaced by houses.
A church steeple rose from the centre of the village, the symbol of Jer, goddess of rivers, emblazoned over the front doors.
Cammon passed by all of it and stopped in front of a two-storey, thatch-roofed building with a wooden sign flapping by the door. An inn.
My jaw dropped. “Is this for real?”
Cammon chuckled and nudged my shoulder. “Come on, mage. Let’s get you a bath.”
When I woke, it was obvious we’d lost the better part of the day. Sunlight streamed through the small window over my head, and I felt as though I could sleep the rest of the afternoon and all through the night.
The suite Cammon had claimed for us was simple but homey.
The bed in the single bedroom boasted a beautiful green-and-white quilt over laundered sheets on a somewhat lumpy mattress that had felt like clouds when I’d fallen onto it.
Which I’d done after scrubbing down with some warmish water, the possibility of a full bath not a service offered here in the small hours of the morning.
Cammon had slept on the sofa in the suite’s sitting room, and it had been a comfort to know he was nearby. After the pain and uncertainty of last night, his solidness had been a reminder that I’d pulled through.
Thanks to him.
But he hadn’t saved me out of altruism. We had a mission to conclude, and that meant dragging myself out of this bed and getting on with what was left of the day.
With a groan, I rolled off the mattress and slid my feet into my boots.
My camisole and stockings from yesterday had been disposed of, and today I wore one of my remaining identical sets.
I stepped into a freshly laundered skirt, the brown fabric stiff and sturdy as I tugged it over my hips and buttoned it up in the back.
A fresh white shirt and the waistcoat that matched the skirt finished the ensemble.
In as quick a time as I could manage, I stared at my reflection to put up my hair, giving up on keeping my bun neat.
At least the long tresses would be out of my face.
Bruises highlighted my cheekbones, and my muscles ached with every small movement, but my wounds had sealed and I was on my feet. A miracle, really.
Dressed, I grabbed my pack and headed downstairs to the inn’s common room, where I found Cammon sitting at a table in the corner, with a book laid out on the surface in front of him.
He looked up when I came in, his gaze finding me immediately around the few people seated at the other tables.
“Sleep well, Buttons?” he asked once I reached him.
The sight of him reading unfurled something inside me, something I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to refurl. I had to wonder if this was part of the bond or if I would have reacted this way to any handsome man with a book.
I narrowed my eyes at said book. “Are those my notes on Tersey’s journal?”
The notebook was full of copied passages, a mishmash of my personal thoughts on the mage’s musings, and iterations of translation attempts. I was amazed Cammon could make heads or tails of any of it.
He used his thumb to mark his page and closed the book to check the cover.
“It ended up in my pack last night in our rush to leave, so I figured I’d get to know the man who’s sending us on this absurd hunt.
I don’t know what to make of him. Sometimes he comes off as brilliant, then on the next page he’s talking about cooking his cat with sage and butter. ”
I laughed. “Ham. Not cat. My handwriting gets awful when I write too quickly. You can read the full translation on a later page.”
Cammon flipped through the pages to find my updated notes. “Huh. That makes a lot more sense. Still doesn’t explain why he squeezed in a recipe in the middle of his stream of consciousness about alchemy, but at least I’m not worried about his pets.”
“Oh, he sacrificed those as well,” I said. “Let’s not put him on a pedestal or anything.”
Cammon wrinkled his nose and stuffed the notebook into his bag. “What made you study this guy, anyway?”
I shrugged and pulled the straps of my pack over my shoulders, moving carefully to avoid setting off any aches and pains.
“I came across his name in a history book about undoing curses. At the time, I was willing to consider anything that helped me get rid of my… issue, even the possibility that it was some kind of blood curse. If I could reverse it, not only would I not have to hide so much about myself, but maybe my magic could do something other than sparkle on my fingertips when I needed it.” Why wasn’t my pack sitting well?
I adjusted everything again, but still something lodged in my spine.
“I followed mentions of him from book to book until I stumbled on his journal—something believed to have been lost decades ago. It was a huge find. Since then, I’ve accepted he can’t help solve my problem, but I’m too fascinated to stop.
Turns out to have been serendipitous, because when Princess Brynna fell ill, I had something to bring to His Majesty.
” The problem was one of the books. I shoved it aside through the fabric of the pack.
“So there you have it. My career is tied up with a dead man who wanted to cook his cat with sage and butter.”
There. Finally. Comfort.
I looked up at Cammon and found him staring at me, black swirling through his crimson eyes, his attention focused on my face.
“Sorry, was I talking too much?”
“Not at all,” he said. “It’s just rare that I find someone who considers history exciting. Sy—my friend—he always complains when I stumble on a new legend-made-real. He says I’m boring.” Cammon cleared his throat. “I found this for you too.”
He handed me my red flask, and my stomach clenched with need.
“Thank you.” Turning towards the wall to hide my face from him, I pulled out the stopper and took a swig. The enchantment-warmed blood slid down my throat with a refreshing tang, and although it satisfied my craving, it was nothing compared to what I’d enjoyed fresh from the vein last night.
And suddenly, the stored blood wasn’t nearly good enough.
It tasted stagnant, lacking the richness and depth of Cammon’s lifeblood.
It lacked the connection that had burrowed its way into me, letting me know that right at this moment, an undercurrent of arousal was running through him, growing brighter, becoming distracting.
“You don’t need to do that, you know.”
I stiffened and looked his way. “Do what?”
“Hide when you drink. You’re not going to disgust me or turn me off. Believe me, if you knew what goes on in Karhasan, you’d appreciate how tame you are with that flask.”
I wiped away the drip of blood that had slipped out of the corner of my mouth and closed the stopper. “Noted. Thanks again for this. I needed it.”
He scanned me over, his red irises not quite growing darker but hinting at the inky shadows that were on the verge of spreading. “Think you’ll be okay to walk?”
I grimaced at the thought of the uneven road that awaited us, my legs and back already protesting.
“No, but we don’t have much choice. We can’t afford to linger while the princess wastes away.
We might not make great time today, but at the very least we can get some distance.
Maybe reach somewhere with a view. Or a hot spring. ”
The thought of an actual bath made my muscles moan with anticipation. It was a bare thread of hope, but if it kept me going, I’d grasp it.
As though he understood, Cammon chuckled. He rose to his feet and pulled on his pack. “We’re due a spot of good luck. If your gods agree, maybe we’ll come across another inn. In the meantime, I promise I’ll carry you if you get too tired.”
“You don’t have to—”
“After you’ve recovered, you can carry me when I get tired. How’s that for a deal?”
He winked, and a shiver ran through me. His eyes darkened in response, and my blood sang as I picked up the vibration of his desire.
Back and forth, the emotion surged between us until every fragment of my awareness was focused on him.
The flex of his biceps, the heave of his breath, the heat of his body.
His tousled hair, the column of his throat, the corded muscles of his forearms…
This blasted bond would be the death of me. I wrenched myself away and stalked towards the door, leaving him to catch up.
“I guess I’m finally learning what it’s like to be on the receiving end of the emotion reading,” he said, his voice filled with frustration. “The universe has a real fucking wild sense of humour.”