Chapter 14 Evera
EVERA
The fire burned low. Kneeling beside it, I added another log and poked at the embers with an iron rod.
Flecks of orange and yellow crackled and sparked against the charred stone.
I held my hands out to the flames, warming them.
The room was cool, but it would heat as the fire roused back to life.
Drawing my cloak snugly around my neck, I stood, letting the warmth lick at my legs, bare beneath my knee-length shift.
From where I stood, I could peer out the window in the door in Leighis’s study.
Not even the faintest light shone in. Dawn was still some time off.
I left the hearth and crossed the room to the steps that led up to the platformed level of the study.
The book of lore lay on the oversized wooden table, closed as I had left it the evening before.
It was inconspicuous among the mess of scrolls and loose papers.
I ran my hand over the old leather cover, opened it, and flipped through pages absentmindedly.
The parchment, tinted by age, curled at the edges.
I trailed my fingers over an illustration, the scratchings indented from the artist's quill.
It depicted an owl, its eyes round and flecked like the night sky.
The details were beautiful, and it brought back to me thoughts of the carver from the festival and our brief conversation of lore and the spirit lines of the gods.
Most of the spirit lines were considered lost or gone from the earth.
When Aureus and I were children, Leighis had told us stories of their origins.
The legends captivated me, but they always seemed abstract, more fantasy than reality.
The only known line to still exist was that of the red deer, held by the Cervius family in the west across the Beridian Sea.
I flipped a few more pages and stopped at a scene depicting two bucks, their antlers locked in battle. Animals, and yet men too. Names, dates, and details of their lineage followed in an elegant script. How many other lines still existed, thought to be gone but only hiding in plain sight?
With a glance at the staircase, I listened. It was quiet, and outside the window, the market square remained still and empty. I let out a breath and unwrapped the fabric straps at my wrist to reveal the tattoo beneath.
I studied it. The design was clean and defined. The art of tattooing was uncommonly practiced due to the risks of the trade. The use of mallets and needles to embed ink into the skin often led to infection and scarring, and never did the designs come out as crisp or bold as my own.
I turned my arm to examine the face of a creature woven into the band.
The animal had sharp features, a pointed snout, and perked ears.
I flipped through the book’s pages, mulling over which line the guard belonged to.
Either a golden jackal or a fox, as they bore the closest resemblance to my mark.
I read quickly through both passages. The jackals were said to have once lived as a pack, having more significant numbers than most lines.
Though the foxes, too, were known to have at least four families in the line at one point.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose; throbbing pressure promised a headache would follow.
Closing the book, I took my face in my hands, rubbing my eyes.
They burned. I hadn’t slept more than an hour or two at a time since before we left for the festival.
It had been what, three nights? But I was restless.
Sleep eluded me, drowned by my thoughts, and when I had finally fallen into the depths of darkness, the reoccurring nightmare of my youth stirred me back to waking.
At least I hadn’t cried out and woken the others.
The steps creaked, and I cursed under my breath. Leighis came around the corner, and I hurried to his side, offering my arm. He took it, and I guided him to a chair.
“I don’t like you taking the stairs by yourself,” I said. “Especially when it’s dark.”
“I’m fine, child,” he replied. His tone was warm, and his eyes glowed with affection behind the rims of his rounded glasses.
That’s how it was with him. Either he was present, as full of life as he’d been in his youth.
Or he was hazed and absent. There was no in-between.
I evaluated him briefly, but he seemed alright.
He’d dressed himself and pulled back his hair, black streaked by touches of white and silver.
Those contrasted the nearly all light gray of his short, pointed beard.
Content, I left him to start a kettle of water over the fire. “Could you not sleep?” I called back to him.
“I heard you when you rose. Have you told your brother the nightmares have returned?”
On a typical morning, it took Aureus quite some time to wake me.
Sleep was something I could never have enough of, and though my bed was simple and the blankets all old, there was such warmth and coziness to them in the cold early hours of morning that it took a fair bit of pestering to stir me.
Some days, Aureus resorted to pulling the covers off me.
On those days, I took to adding castor oil to his tea, hiding the taste of the laxative with a strong mix of his favorite herbs.
“It’s the first I’ve had in some time,” I replied. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
When a few moments passed and Leighis gave no response, my heart sank. I turned my eyes to him, finding his gaze set on the shelving of books, and let out a breath. Nothing could be done about it. His periods of awareness were becoming shorter and less frequent with each passing month.
When the kettle hissed, I took it from the hearth with a cloth. My mind was distracted, lost in thoughts of Neirin and the marks on my wrist. Gods, the marks. I cursed my forgetfulness and retrieved the wraps, tying them to conceal the tattoo.
By the time Aureus woke, daylight lit the study. Leighis’s tea sat on the table beside him, cold and untouched. I would make him a fresh cup when he came back to himself.
“Have I slept in?” Aureus asked as he stopped by Leighis and put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. The hazed look in our mentor’s eyes showed he was elsewhere, lost. When he was like this, I found myself hoping he was, in his mind, walking the great library of Vitalis.
“No, we were both up early,” I replied, then added, “I’ve caught up on our orders.”
Aureus skipped a step as he came down from the platform to join me at the table. He looked over the packets, jars, and other miscellaneous containers.
The corners of his lips turned down. “This must have taken you hours.”
“I didn’t want us to fall behind,” I said.
Aureus shook his head. “You need rest, Evera.”
“I’m fine. I’m just grateful to be home and to be able to get back to work.” It was a half-truth at best, but I didn’t want to tell him about the nightmare. The last time I had one and brought it up, he’d been in a solemn mood for days afterward.
Aureus rubbed between his brows and sighed, but didn’t push further.
“They’re all pickup orders,” I said as I was organizing the finished items in a basket. I made sure each container was labeled with the customer’s name, dosage instructions, ingredients, price, and other essential details.
“No deliveries?” He took the basket when I pushed it across the table to him.
I shook my head. “Not today, no.”
Aureus carried the basket to the front room, and I followed him, passing through the drape that separated the shop from the back room and the rest of our home. Aureus placed it behind the counter, then raised his hands above his head and clasped them, stretching. “I’m glad to be out of the wagon.”
I hummed my agreement, looking past him through the rippled glass windows that overlooked our garden and the stables across the street.
After I dressed, I would spend some time in the pasture with Sorrel.
She needed brushing, and I wanted fresh air and some time to myself.
Nature was soothing, as was the presence of animals.
“Evera?”
I blinked, having missed Aureus’s question. “What?”
My brother’s lips were a thin line. “I asked if you made the tea yesterday.”
My fingers flexed, but I kept the bitterness from my tone. “I did.”
Aureus was only looking out for me. He wanted to talk about these things as little as I did, but he would not risk me coming with child.
I wondered briefly what would happen to his plans of marrying me to Ruairc if I did.
Knowing my brother, he would simply rush the wedding so Ruairc could believe the child was his.
The thought of lying with my childhood friend made me cringe.
“Is there anything else you need from me?” I asked, changing the subject. “I want to go to the stables and groom Sorrel. Her coat is shedding.”
The shop door rattled, and Aureus and I both turned to it.
“If you must be upset with someone, be upset with me,” Aureus said, crossing the room. “I believed there would be deliveries, and that you would enjoy the outing.”
Last fall, I delivered orders myself, resulting in more than one displeased man rapping at our shop door and causing a scene. After that, I was only to deliver while in the company of a man. One of two men accompanied me, my brother or …
“Aureus,” I hissed.
He opened the door. “Good morning, Ruairc.”
Dammit.
I skirted the counter, making a line to the back room, but I was too slow. Ruairc called a greeting, stopping my retreat. I gritted my teeth and pulled my cloak closed in the front to conceal my slip.
“I’ve come to take you for your deliveries,” Ruairc announced as I turned to him. His honey-brown eyes were full of warmth.
“I appreciate that, but we don’t have any deliveries today,” I said, forcing out the words.
“A picnic, then?”
Internally, I groaned. “That sounds lovely, but I must go to the stables and groom our mare. Her winter coat is shedding, and I don’t want her to be uncomfortable.”