Chapter 23
EVERA
“Isn’t he just the cutest, Evera!” Farren cooed over her new nephew.
It was still early, but the sun had risen in a clear blue sky, bringing with it, warmth, the promise of spring, and a hum of excitement and eagerness to start the day.
The day’s promise was clear on the faces of the townsfolk as they shopped among the market stalls in front of our family’s shop.
My waking, however, had not come with the rise of the sun but by the jarring of my reoccurring nightmare some few hours before dawn.
I’d hoped working in the garden might rid my mind of the shadows that had haunted my sleep, of the faceless man who’d loomed over me, of Mother’s scream.
And in a sense, it had, if only because the task kept me occupied.
Though, as always, the feeling of unease remained.
Deeper thoughts would creep back when a breeze caught and rose the hairs on the back of my neck.
Then my mind would wander to the cause of the nightmares and why Aureus always shielded his expression when I brought them up, cast his eyes aside, and dismissed them.
Renna made a hushing sound, drawing me back from my dark musings. She gently cupped a hand over her infant’s ear. “You’ll wake him,” she chided her younger sister.
Her son, born just before the last snow, slept soundly, secured against his mother’s chest in a cloth sling. From the east, the sun glowed golden on the boy’s face, lighting his fine blond hair and pouting lips.
“He’s adorable,” I said. “And it looks like he’s a good sleeper.
” Despite the noise from the market, the child hardly stirred, even as two boys ran by chasing after a small dog, its tail wagging and tongue lolling.
For midweek, the market was busy. The effects, no doubt, of the festival’s end brought a steady trickle of travelers through town as they made their way back to their homes in the south.
“Oh, he is,” Renna said, pride dancing in her eyes. A silly thing to be proud of, but she was a new mother, and she was positively glowing with the effects of it.
“Don’t you want one too?” Farren gushed, her eyes dreamy as she braced herself against the outside railing of our shop’s garden fence. “Gods, I do.”
I leaned back against the stone wall of the shop in the corner of the fence’s enclosure, eyes on the sleeping bundle.
“It’s not something I’ve thought much about.
” It was a half-truth. Children were something I’d thought of often when I was younger.
Back when I imagined a life for myself. Before I grew older and came to learn that my life would be decided for me, including whether and when I bore children and who to.
“You could be carrying one now.” Farren’s remark was spoken without consideration, as every other word out of her mouth seemed to be. It wasn’t that she was intentionally loose-lipped, only that her rambling often came before thoughtfulness.
I huffed a breath, but with the sun warming my side and the fresh scents of spring in the air, it was easy to dismiss bitterness.
Farren spoke nothing of the markings beneath the wraps on my wrist, at least, and now that she’d caught her blunder, she was more likely to use reservation when speaking.
Renna cast a sidelong glance at her sister, lips a tight line.
“Sorry,” Farren amended, casting her eyes down.
“I’m not pregnant.” The contraceptive I’d drunk would be effective.
And, even if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter much.
I’d only made it as a precaution. When I became a woman, Leighis explained the windows of fertility, and I made a point only to take a man when I was confident I couldn’t come with child.
Quiet hung between us, fractured only by the chatter coming from the market.
Renna shifted her weight, and when she broke the quiet, her voice held a note of hesitation. “Evera, do you think—” She licked her lips, then tried again. “Has it been long enough since Cas’s birth?”
The corner of my lips rose as I caught her implication.
Though Aureus would dissuade me from speaking of anything related to healing in public, those in the market were a distance off, and no one took note of us.
Farren and Renna were my oldest friends, aside from Ruairc, with who I’d not been close in some years.
There was a comfort in the way my friends came to me for advice on medicinal things with such casualness, with such trust in my abilities.
It felt like acceptance, and it warmed me.
“She named him Castien,” Farren said. “Isn’t that a strapping name? A strong one, too. He’ll be a charmer one day for certain.” She’d obviously missed her sister’s underlying question.
I exchanged a knowing look of amusement with Renna, and Farren pouted and looked between us as if aware she was missing something, but unsure of what.
“Are you still bleeding?” I asked Renna.
She shook her head. “The bleeding stopped about a fortnight ago.”
“And do you have any pain?”
Eyes falling to her infant, Renna shook her head. “No, not like that. Some discomfort with nursing, but that’s not really relevant. I’m not sure why I brought it up.”
“Because it’s on your mind.”
Renna’s joy in looking upon her child caught my heart. She stroked the blond waves atop his head with her thumb. Her own hair, loose and tossed over her shoulders, matched perfectly with the boy’s. But his hair could darken with time, should he take after his father.
“He appears to be growing well, but I can stop by and check your latch later if you would like. It can be uncomfortable when you’re getting used to it, but it shouldn’t hurt.” Of course, these were all the only things I knew from my teachings. When Neirin drew my nipple into his mouth and suckled—
“Is everything okay?” Renna asked.
My cheeks flushed. I parted my lips and blinked to dismiss my distracted gaze, but Farren broke in first.
“Oh, it’s because of what I said, isn’t it?” Her shoulders sank.
I let out a breath and shook my head. “No, Farren, it’s fine, truly. My mind was elsewhere. It doesn’t matter. You should be fine, Renna. Just make sure your husband knows to ease into things. It’s still a bit early. Nothing too—”
“Rough?” Renna grinned.
I laughed. Being older than Farren, Renna was more thoughtful in her words, typically. More aware of the social standards she was expected to adhere to. But marriage had brought out another side of her, or rather her, blacksmith husband had.
“Yes,” I said, “nothing too rough.”
With a sigh, Renna conceded. “Better than nothing, I suppose.”
Farren, catching on, blushed. Her eyes darted to the market square, and she sucked in her bottom lip. “Oh, not more of your stories, Renna.” She glanced around nervously. “Certainly not here.”
Crossing my arms, I grinned.
A wicked gleam sparkled in Renna’s eyes, and she leaned in toward her sister.
“You don’t like my stories?” Exaggerated feigned innocence laced her tone, and the flush of Farren’s cheeks deepened.
Though I hadn’t a sister of my own, the connection the three of us shared was as close as one could come to siblings.
There was a simple joy in flustering Farren, and those in the market were too busy with their shopping to worry themselves with overhearing our conversation.
“I enjoy your stories,” I assured her.
Quick-thinking Renna turned the implication back on me. “It sounds like you have stories to tell of your own?”
Pushing from the wall, I retrieved the hoe and worked at the ground with halfhearted effort, using the action to appear busy. “It was nothing.”
“You’re no fun,” Renna complained. There it was, that side she concealed beneath the veil of social expectations. The childish pouting I knew only too well.
I huffed. “Fine.” I leaned against the hoe’s handle.
Despite my better judgment, the thought of speaking about what Neirin and I shared gave me a thrill.
But it was strange, too. Because the guard who took me at the festival felt like an entirely different man than the one who had sat beside me in the stables the night before.
I took a moment to consider my words. Farren already knew Neirin was a castle guard, but I hoped she would keep that to herself, what with the precarious state of things as they were now.
“The sex was good,” I said rather lamely, deciding to go with blunt and to the point. “The best I’ve had.”
The corners of Renna’s lips curled up. “More details.”
Mirroring her expression, I acquiesced, despite Farren’s flushed cheeks.
Drawing nearer to them, I propped the hoe on the fence and sought somewhere to begin.
“He took me against a wall in one of the castle towers.” Emboldened, I added, “Soldiers stood outside, and when I cried out, he said, ’Let them listen. ’”
A vibration of adrenaline tingled in my fingers and up my arms as I held myself at the edge of a very dangerous conversation.
The rush flooded me, even as I knew it was wrong.
Pushing thoughts of what came of the soldiers and all else that followed aside, I mentally forgave myself.
Nothing of what happened was my fault; I should not feel guilty for it.
“Oh.” Covering her son’s ear, Renna released a heady breath.
Farren, devoid of words, only gasped.
“Was he—” Renna held her hands out with a generous spacing between them.
“Renna!” Farren squealed, and I grinned wickedly.
Holding my own hands out, I considered and added a few inches of space between my own palms. It was boasting, I knew, but the man was well endowed, and that was fair ground for gossip and bragging among friends.
Giddy, Renna encouraged me. “Tell us more?”
I lowered my hands to my hips. “Before we …”
“Did it against the wall,” Renna added when my words failed me.