Chapter 14
POV: Sorsha
When I saw the single bed, my thoughts scattered and twisted, every past experience dragging me to the worst possibility, that image of my mom’s face uppermost in my mind.
That was how life had trained me—always brace for the worst. Better to be prepared than caught off guard.
But when Callum left, guilt pressed heavy on my chest. I’d been too blunt and hurt his feelings, maybe even driven him away.
I thought earlier that he would end it, but he didn’t. This time, however, might be different.
I paced for a while, trying to find some middle ground. I had to apologize. He’d been nothing but good to me, spoiling me even though I couldn’t understand why he felt it necessary.
He was just so perfect.
And that made me worry.
He said the rings were a symbol, a promise. But no one kept promises. I knew this firsthand.
Eyeing the brush and hairpin, I sat down and tried to comb out the tangles, but impatience won. Twisting it back up, I secured it with the pin that bore the butterfly.
Rushing down the stairs, I asked the man at the front desk if he had seen Callum. He shook his head and motioned toward the dining room, which was overflowing with people.
He’d already eaten, so he probably wasn’t in there.
Maybe in the stables?
Following the direction I’d seen the groom take, I found the stables. A few people lingered there, but none of them were Callum. Giving Mabel a hasty pat, I circled the inn, but he was nowhere in sight.
Where did he go?
I didn’t know my way around, and searching for him in a city this size was foolish. I’d apologize tomorrow.
Back in the room, I lay awake for a long time, but sleep eluded me.
I wasn’t a good person.
I’d thrown his kindness back in his face, too skeptical to believe anyone could truly be this selfless.
----
I must have fallen asleep at some point during the night, and woke tired. The anxiety from yesterday came rushing back, and I jumped out of bed.
I had to find Callum.
Dressing quickly, I packed all our belongings and headed for the front of the inn. The man from yesterday was on duty at the counter.
When I asked if he’d seen Callum, he nodded. “But he doesn’t look so good.”
My stomach clenched. “What do you mean?”
“Go see for yourself,” he said, pointing at the entrance.
I bolted out the door, glancing left and right before spotting him slumped against the wall. His head drooping as though he was asleep, an empty bottle tipped beside him.
Oh no. Had I driven him to drink?
I dropped to my knees and lifted his head—then jerked back. A purple jaw, one eye swollen shut, dried blood crusted across his forehead.
This was my fault. He’d been beaten because I was petty, too stupid to recognize a good thing when I had it.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, tears blurring my vision.
Callum cracked open his good eye, blinking at me.
“You should’ve shouted at me,” I mumbled. “Told me to sleep with Mabel instead.”
He tried to sit straighter, a wince twisting his face as though every muscle screamed in protest. A rough chuckle escaped him. “When will you realize I’m not like your father or your brother? Though… I’m probably more dangerous than they will ever be.”
A chill prickled my skin. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head. “Took one too many hits yesterday. Ignore me.”
“No,” I said firmly. “Come.”
I stood, holding both hands out, but he shook his head and got to his feet, staggering stiffly. He winced when I grabbed his hand, which looked like he’d hammered it in his forge, the knuckles split and bleeding.
Leveraging my shoulder under his, I tried to support his weight as we walked back inside, where I demanded a room.
“You can have the same one,” the man said, smiling up at Callum. “Never seen you look this bad, buddy. Heard it was a hell of a fight.”
My gaze darted between them, confusion prickling, but Callum silenced the man with a glare so sharp it cut. The innkeeper shoved the key toward me and started writing in a book on the counter.
“Where can I find an apothecary?” I asked.
“There are a few in the market square, but I don’t need anything, just rest,” Callum soothed, but I didn’t believe him.
His breathing was shallow, uneven, and every step betrayed pain. Maybe an apothecary wouldn’t be enough, and I should call a doctor.
I helped him up the stairs and into bed. He groaned as his weight sank onto the mattress.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, brushing my lips across his forehead.
“Why are you sorry?”
“This happened because I made you leave the room yesterday,” I said, shame heating my chest.
“Probably,” he admitted, then softened. “But you’re not to blame. Let me sleep a while. If you feel like it, you could collect the rings. Wake me when the coal vendor delivers, okay?”
“Okay,” I murmured, turning toward the door.
“Wait.” His hand fumbled in his pocket before pressing something into mine. A small black pouch, heavy and clinking.
I loosened the drawstring—and gasped. Coins. Gold crowns. “Did you steal this? Is that why you were beaten?”
He chuckled, the sound breaking on a groan. “No, love. I earned it. It’s yours to keep—for emergencies. So you’ll never have to fear hunger again.”
I stared down at the crowns, stunned into silence. Somehow, he had seen me clearer than anyone ever had.
Love? Did he mean that?
I left the room, my mind in a frenzy.
He kept evading my question when I asked why he married me. And when I mentioned the money he gave my father, he’d bristled, insisting there was a difference—he hadn’t bought me, he’d paid off my family.
I didn’t think it made a difference, but that stirring of hope was becoming more difficult to suppress.
Relying on memories from yesterday, I hurried to the market square, again annoyed that I couldn’t read and would have to ask directions to find a doctor.
I picked up the rings first, checking them before replacing them in the pouch they came in.
Callum had already paid yesterday, and I was glad I didn’t have to open the pouch. The very thought made me anxious, and I kept it clutched tightly in my fist.
A lot of places had signs and letters making it easier to find an apothecary. I entered one and waited in line.
The woman ahead of me shoved her pouch between her breasts after paying. Huh. I’d never thought of that. Glancing around, I copied her, pressing my own pouch into place. Not elegant, but safer than clutching it in plain sight.
The young man at the counter looked up and smiled. “How can I help such a beauty as yourself?”
I blinked. No one had ever called me beautiful before—not once. I wasn’t even sure I’d heard him correctly.
“My husband needs a doctor, and I’m unfamiliar with the city. Could you tell me where to go?”
His face fell, but he called out, “Dad, someone needs a doctor.”
A silver-haired man hobbled forward, cane in one hand. “You need a doctor?” he asked.
“My husband does. At the Wayfarers. Can you come?”
He cocked his head and then lifted his hand, rubbing his thumb and two fingers together.
“How much?” I asked flatly.
“A crown, at the least.”
“At the least?” My suspicion hardened. “I’ll look elsewhere.”
“Fine. Half a crown,” he pressed.
I backed away, shaking my head. He was trying to exploit me. My pulse spiked, and before he could say another word, I turned and fled, running until the inn came into sight.
Breathless, I stopped at the counter. “Can you send for a doctor?”
“For Rage?” he chuckled. “He doesn’t need one. Believe me, he heals quickly.”
Rage? What did he mean by that?
“He can’t breathe properly, and I want a doctor, okay?” I insisted.
“Fine. I’ll send old Mac up.”
I rushed upstairs, then darted back down almost immediately. “Can I have hot water and a mug for tea?”
The man rolled his eyes and pointed to the dining room. “Ask in the kitchen.”
I stopped at the kitchen threshold, watching women run back and forth, others bent over a massive stove.
“Excuse me? Can I get hot water in a mug?” I asked.
“Helen, help her,” the woman at the stove called.
I didn’t know who Helen was until a young woman appeared and handed me a steaming mug.
“How’s Rage?” she asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I hissed, annoyed.
“Huh, didn’t you watch the fight?” A small smile curving her lips. “Can’t believe he chose you. He never let any of us near him.”
I couldn’t make heads or tails of this, but one thing was certain, he’d fought, and everyone seemed to know.
But why did they call him Rage?