Chapter 26 Araphi
Araphi
The next morning, a loud knocking wakes Araphi. She struggles out from the nest they’ve made of the blankets to peer around the cabin. “What’s that?”
“Perhaps the wind,” Sage answers groggily.
Still half asleep, she runs a hand up Araphi’s naked back, sending a shiver across Araphi’s skin.
Sage’s voice is loose, relaxed. Gone is the deadly ranger who always has her blades at hand (even if her remaining dagger rests right beside the mattress).
She’s been entirely replaced by the snuggly, content creature who held Araphi close through the night, and who now touches her tenderly, her fingers coiling through the ends of Araphi’s loose hair.
Something in last night’s revelation has worn away Sage’s usual edges.
Araphi loves her in this mood.
She loves her in any mood, really. But this one is more charming than she thought possible.
If this easy intimacy is what it feels like to be trusted with someone else’s secrets as well as their body, Araphi never wants a casual partner again.
This feels so right. So secure. So achingly full of potential. If only she could—
“Come back under these blankets,” Sage murmurs. “I need you to keep me warm.”
Araphi grins and pulls the quilt to her chin.
The cabin is decidedly colder than last night.
Ashes fill the hearth, and pools of cooled wax line the mantel where the candles had blazed.
In the early morning light filtering through the cracks in the rough curtains, the cabin seems so ordinary.
So much smaller than it did last night. Certainly, less magical.
The homecoming spell that kept them cozy and fed seems to have come to an end, as Sage predicted.
Well, that’s a predicament.
Another knocking at the door, louder this time and more insistent, unmistakable for the weather. Could it be Remy and the rest of the party? Have they found them already?
Sage is already struggling upward and out of the sheets. “Stay behind me, Bard.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re injured!”
The ranger groans as she swings her bad leg off the bed, proving Araphi’s case.
“At least wait a moment while I find our clothing,” Araphi insists.
Cold stabs at her bare feet as soon as they hit the stone floor.
Where are their clothes anyhow? By the bathtub?
Near the fireplace? Gods, she can’t even find the robes they wore last night while they ate soup and spoke of Sage’s death…
which she hardly has time to think of now.
Where are her socks? Her pants? Her chemise? Anything really would do.
“Open up now, or I’ll blast this door with a spell!” calls a voice from outside.
Somehow, Sage has slipped into her breeches and shirt already. Araphi swears and grabs the first piece of clothing she can find—Sage’s wool coat, dried by the fire overnight. It barely comes down to the middle of her thighs, but it’s better than naked.
Araphi hurries over to Sage as she stands, all of the softness gone from her. “You stubborn thing. At least let me help you.”
Sage concedes, letting Araphi slide under her arm to support her. She points to the kitchen table and their dishes from last night. “Get that knife.”
“The butter knife?”
“Unless you’ve been hiding my other dagger somewhere on your person?”
“It’s with the rest of my things at the temple. I’m sorry I didn’t have it—”
“Never mind that now, just get the knife.”
Araphi grabs it and a wooden spoon, still covered in chunks of vegetable soup from last night. They’re hardly weapons, but they’ll have to work. “Okay, we’re opening the door, but beware, we’re armed!” she calls out to whoever stands on the other side.
Sage snorts beside her, but her knuckles are white as she grips the hilt of her remaining dagger, raising it as Araphi slowly unlatches the cabin door.
Wintry air blasts into the room, bringing with it a flurry of snow, as well as a very small, very pretty woman with sharp gray eyes and a knot of bright-red hair on top of her head and a very large white owl on her shoulder, who stands on the snow-laden porch glaring up at Araphi.
“I wasn’t planning to stop here for another week, but the bird insisted I come rescue you. ”
Araphi opens and closes her mouth once, twice, and then the owl hoots as it meets her eye.
No, that’s not right. The bird is not meeting her eye. It can’t be.
As if in answer, the owl tilts its head and smiles.
“Who are you?” Sage demands, her arm tight around Araphi’s shoulder, her dagger flashing in the morning sunlight.
Suddenly, Araphi feels particularly foolish clutching her spoon and butter knife.
The red-haired woman raises one eyebrow at the pair of them: Sage’s unlaced tunic and Araphi’s hastily buttoned coat. “I’m Wren, and the bird is Goway. Who are you?”
“We’re travelers whose names are our own,” Sage replies gruffly.
“I’m Phi Runesong, and this is Sage Wilderstone,” Araphi answers at the same moment.
Wren nods. “Good morning and well met to you, Phi Runesong and Sage Wilderstone.” She surveys the small cabin then, the bowls on the table and the ashes in the fireplace. “I’d best gather more wood, I suppose. Take the time to dress, I beg you.”
“Right, yes, fine,” Araphi says, grateful for the windburn that she hopes hides her blush.
They dress quickly, trading shirts and socks as they find them. Then Araphi helps Sage to the table, where she props her injured leg up on a chair.
“Should we trust her?” Araphi asks, nodding toward the door between them and Wren.
Sage shrugs. “She could have tried to kill us already—though even hurt, I’m fairly certain I could take her in a fight, if you can manage the bird.”
“We’ll improvise if we have to,” Araphi says. She kisses Sage quickly, but pulls back when Wren strides into the room with an armful of firewood as if she owns the place, which Araphi supposes she does.
“Well, it looks like you two had a good time.” Wren dumps the logs beside the grate, then peels off her gloves to run a finger over a lump of wax on the mantel.
“We didn’t mean to take what wasn’t ours,” Araphi insists. She defaults to charm, pouring as much of it into her words as she can. “Your cabin saved our lives, you know, and we thank you very much for it! We were lost in the storm, and then we found the cabin—”
“No further details, please,” Wren interrupts, offering another scowl. “I know how the magic works,” she says, rolling her eyes again. “It’s my spell, and I see you two used every bit of it up. Must’ve been quite a night.”
Araphi’s not quite sure how to respond to that.
It’s Sage who breaks the silence. “We’ll just be going, and not deplete your cabin further.” She lifts her injured leg off the chair but swears as she tries to put weight on it.
Araphi rushes to her side.
Wren scoffs. “You’re not going anywhere on that leg. Especially in this snow. And without resetting the homecoming spell every day, it’s just a simple hunter’s cabin without the proper supplies. It won’t be livable in winter.”
“If you can point us someplace where we might secure horses, we’ll head south,” Sage offers. “We’ll be out of your hair for good.”
“Even if we did have horses to spare in our village, that won’t work.
Another storm—worse than last night’s—is on its way.
One more good snowfall, and the mountain passes between the Graywood and Briarwall will all be blocked for weeks, or, more likely, till spring.
You won’t make it through, even on horseback. ”
“Well. I am a prize-winning bard, so perhaps I can find us a place to sing for a meal or two…”
“Oh, stop!” Wren snaps, more irritation than anything else filling her voice. She mutters something that sounds very much like, Bards. “I’ll take you both back to Arkney, my village. Lots of work to be done there, if you’re willing, and a room to see you through the winter.”
“Are you a healer?” Araphi asks as she helps Sage ease back into the chair. “Sage shouldn’t walk on this.”
“I have a measure of magic, but true healing is beyond me. My aunt had the touch, but the winds took her last month, and we’ve been short a healer in Arkney since.” Wren takes off her cloak and drapes it over one of the armchairs by the fire.
From its perch on the mantel, Goway hoots. Wren rolls her eyes again. “The bird says to tell you I’m the most powerful sorceress of my generation, but that’s nonsense. Birds will believe anything, truly. It’s astonishing. Now, may I take a look at this knee of yours?”
Sage nods and rolls up her pant leg. Her knee is more swollen today around the bedsheet bandaging, and bruises and scrapes line her calf where it dragged against rock below the water. Araphi wants to kiss every one of them.
Wren gently prods at Sage’s kneecap, testing the joint, and Sage inhales sharply. Araphi grips Sage’s shoulder, hoping that’s comfort enough.
“I can help, at least,” Wren declares with a nod. “It’ll have to heal naturally, but I can numb it enough to get you walking. Stay still.”
She wraps both hands around Sage’s calf and closes her eyes.
Vermilion light, red as rubies, pours from her fingers.
It knits around Sage’s leg, twining and weaving.
Wren’s still concentrating across from them, but with a word, she pushes all of the red light into Sage’s knee.
It winks out, and Sage lets out a long breath.
Her head falls back against Araphi’s stomach.
Araphi’s fingers brush the back of Sage’s neck. “Better?”
“Much better,” Sage whispers. “Thank you, Wren.”
The sorceress makes a dismissive noise. “It was nothing. The magic will act as a kind of brace, though the wound will have to knit with rest and time. Let’s not make a meal of it, shall we?
Now, if you’re able to walk, we should get moving.
Another storm will be here soon, and we’ve got the better part of a five-mile hike downriver ahead of us. ”
“Why are you doing this for us?” Araphi asks, hesitant as she is to question the woman who may well have saved their lives.
Wren glances around the cabin again. A shadow of sorrow crosses her delicate features.
“Because someone once was very kind to me when I needed it most, and although he’s gone now, I’m still trying to reward that kindness.
” Goway hoots again, and Wren scowls at it.
“The bird says I should tell you the full tragic story of my lost love, but we’ll save that for a different time. Let’s get moving.”
With one last look at the cabin that was so very magical to them, Araphi follows Sage and Wren out the door.