Chapter 29 #2
I’m beaming now, but something in my husband’s eyes tells me that I’m going to get an earful once we’re home. I want so much to tell Lord Murtagh what an unpleasant person Gruffud is. That he’s a brash man with a horrid temper. A narcissist at best.
But instead, I loop my arm through Gruffud’s and say, “Well, Lord Murtagh. It was a pleasure running into you again. Best of luck in your family’s endeavors.”
“Until next time,” he responds.
By some miracle, I steer Gruffud away from the building without another word.
We barely get two shops away from Murtagh’s new business when Gruffud grasps my arm with such a vise-like grip that I can’t help but cry out softly.
He backs me against a wall, the rough brick snagging my cloak as his stony eyes glare daggers down at me.
His face fills my field of vision, and my terraforging threatens to unleash.
I hold back, my body trembling with the effort to contain my powers—a reaction that can easily be mistaken for distress.
“Do not ever embarrass me like that again,” he growls.
“I did no such thing,” I snap back recklessly. “If anything, you embarrassed yourself.”
His upper lip curls, his hand rising, when a smooth, baritone voice interrupts.
“Good afternoon.”
Gruffud whirls on the stranger, and I peer around him at the older gentleman.
Concern etches the man’s peachy face, brown eyes regarding me rather than my brute of a husband.
The man is dressed in a plain grey tunic and linen trousers.
Leather peeks out from his collar and I sense some kind of metal weapon somewhere on his person. Perhaps more than one.
“Can I help you?” Gruffud asks, his tone sharp.
The man tucks the short strands of his salt-and-pepper hair casually behind his ear as Gruffud looks him up and down.
“I was rather wondering if this young lady was in need of help,” the man says with a smile that relaxes the hard cut of his jawline.
Neris would swoon over this stranger, even though he must be in his late fifties.
“State your name, old man,” Gruffud snaps.
My eyes roll, and I’m certain that amusement twinkles in the stranger’s eye. He stands even taller, facing Gruffud without fear. “Niall Kilkenny. I am nobody to you, Lord …” His voice trails off, his brow lifting in question.
“Pendry.”
Niall repeats the name then looks at me. “Is all in order, Lady Pendry?”
I nod, though part of me wants to scream that all is certainly not in order.
“Well, if either of you are in need of any forging … metalwork is my favorite. I also enjoy getting my hands in the dirt, moving the earth around a bit. I find gardening and landscaping soothing.” He withdraws a small piece of parchment from within his summer coat, but Gruffud doesn’t reach to take it.
My heart hammers as I mull over his words. Forge. Move earth. My gaze meets his, and the knowing look in his eyes chills me. But before I can figure out how to address the hints that are clearly being directed at me, Gruffud wraps his hand around my upper arm and tugs me away.
He grumbles about filthy Grounders infiltrating the city.
We’ve always had traveling merchants and the like from across the bridge, but this man seems different.
As I glance back at him, he winks and pats his pocket almost as if pantomiming.
I cannot figure out the gesture, but I don’t get a chance to try as I’m hauled back into the carriage parked a few buildings away.
Once we arrive back home, Gruffud rushes off to complain to Lady Mari about the unfairness of his encounters, and I retreat to the bathing chamber, still wearing my cloak.
I pull the notice from my pocket, and another smaller parchment falls to the floor.
It looks just like the one Niall tried to offer to Gruffud.
I unfold it and regard the messy handwriting in bold letters:
Do not fear the rebellion. We are not the enemy. We are the hope of Erleya.
Safehouses: Cluain Baile, Dubh Carrig, Darragh, Wastelands, Verge.
As I read, the words fade until the parchment is as blank as if it never held any writing at all. I shake my head, dismissing the thoughts. It’s just poppycock from a stranger who likely means well. Completely irrelevant. But clearly a Mage … Curiouser.
I sigh and smooth out the notice I’d taken from the lamppost.
Mages and Elemental Wielders needed.
Lay down your fears, give up your seclusion. Join the Zenith at the Fortress on the Mount with this notice.
You and your family will be given immunity and rewarded generously in exchange for your service to Erleya and the Outer Isles.
By the decree of His Excellency, Rheon Odhran, Sovereign of the Kingdom of Erleya and the Outer Isles.
My blood freezes in my veins. I must be seeing things, because there’s no way this new sovereign could be offering immunity for having magic. This must be some kind of trap—if anyone falls for this, they’re either foolish or desperate.
As I read the notice again and again, a horrifying realization dawns on me.
I may be both foolish and desperate.
“I won’t be home from tomorrow night,” Gruffud murmurs as I rub obnoxiously fragranced oil into my skin.
I glance up at him from the vanity as I seal the jar and set it on the table. “Where are you going?”
“Darragh.”
Lips puckered in thought, I run my fingers through my wavy hair, dispersing any leftover oils from my palms. Carefully, I begin braiding the wavy strands. When Gruffud still doesn’t volunteer more information, I dare to request it. “Business deal?”
“Yes. Since damn Murtagh snatched the building I had my eyes on right from my grasp.”
That’s … not how that occurred, but alright. “What will you gain from this business deal in Darragh?”
He climbs into bed and pulls the covers up over his legs. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, wife.”
I bite my lip to keep more questions from spilling out, even though they gnaw at me. Gruffud leans over to his side table and turns off his oil lamp. He rolls onto his side, facing away from me.
For a few heartbeats, I stare at his back, certain that I’m imagining things. Since we’ve gotten married, there’s rarely a night when he’s simply fallen asleep. But the last couple nights, he’s left me alone.
Maybe the gods are alive because this is the best birthday present I could’ve asked for.