Chapter 54
Penbroge City is just as beautiful in person as it looked from the castle grounds.
The buildings are a mix of pewter-colored stone and lumbered faces with vines reaching up toward plaster and brick.
It’s busy, with plenty of people out and about, horses clopping over the cobbles while a light rain mists down.
I stop beneath the eave of the inn and turn to look at the healer. “Thank you so much for letting me know how everyone is doing,” I tell her.
She tilts her head, her dark hair swept back in a tightly wound veillet. “Of course,” she says as she wipes her hands down the apron tied at her waist. “These poor souls need as much care as they can have. They’ve been through a terrible ordeal.”
I nod grimly. “They have.”
“We’ll do our best with them. Ash is a nasty thing, but his lordship has provided us with all the best supplies.”
“I can tell they’re in very good hands with you and the other healers.”
If only I could have had her tend to me when I first arrived. Then again, that means Varrik wouldn’t have.
She smiles. “That’s very kind.”
Something suddenly presses against my leg, and I jerk my head down, startling when I see a black cat slinking around my ankles.
The healer woman tuts. “Oh, it’s one of the strays from the Ash burg,” she tells me. “The dogs have stayed with the people being healed inside, but the cats ran off. Except for this one. She won’t leave, but she also won’t—”
I crouch down and pick her up.
“—let anyone touch her,” the woman finishes, eyeing me speculatively. “Hmm. Seems she likes you. Had a couple people try to take her home, but she wasn’t having it.”
The cat blinks at me with yellow eyes and lets out a craggy meow.
“She still has a bit of Ash on her coat, poor thing.”
I pet her and then set her back down. “She’s cute.” She sits at my feet and stares up at me. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” I tell the healer.
“Oh, no. Just you checking in on everyone today lifted some spirits, especially for that little girl.” She peers out into the road. “Oof, this rain is getting heavier. You best be on your way before it starts really coming down.”
I fix my veillet and nod. “Yes, thank you again.”
She bids me goodbye and I turn to leave, my head dipping to avoid the spray of rain in my face. Behind me, the cat meows, and then I feel her winding around my feet again. I pick her up and she gives another throaty, almost annoyed meow.
“Well, what do you want me to do?” I ask.
She mews again, her tail flicking.
I start to put her down, but she sinks her claws into my tunic and bodice, refusing to let go, so I jerk her back against my chest. “Okay, okay! Just sheathe your claws.”
“What’s happening here?” Frid asks as he comes walking over.
His face is misted with raindrops, but he seems unbothered as he bites into a sugar-crusted pastry.
“This is one of the cats from the Ash burg,” I tell him.
“She seems to be . . .” I try to gently tug her off me again, but she digs her claws in hard enough to hurt.
“Attached,” I finish, settling her against me.
She buries her face in the crook of my arm to avoid the rain, and lets out an indignant mew. I smile down at her. “Adorable.”
Frid’s nose wrinkles. “Looks a bit mangy to me.”
I frown at him. “She is not. She’s a survivor from the burg. She probably lost her owner and she’s just feeling a bit lost. Who am I to deny her some comfort?”
He shrugs. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, I am.”
When I wandered around the castle earlier trying to find Varrik so I could ask to come to the city and check on the survivors, Frid saw me first. He told me he was heading here anyway and that he would escort me.
His eyes flick to my arms. “And . . . you’re taking that with you?”
“Her,” I correct. “And yes.”
He shrugs again and pulls up the hood from his cloak as the rain starts to come down in earnest. Together, we make our way up the street and back to the castle. We pass by the entrance wall, where guards wave us in.
By the time we make it inside, I’m soaked through, and the poor cat is a drenched puddle in my arms. I head straight up to my room and use one of my washing cloths to dry her. “There. At least all the Ash is off you now,” I tell her.
She mews and then slinks away to explore the space while I light a fire in my room, and then I take a bath before pulling on a gray dress and dark blue bodice.
The room is nice and warm when I get out, and I sit in front of the fire on the floor while I brush out my drying hair. The cat comes over eventually, once she’s stalked the perimeter and deemed it safe. She climbs over my lap before tackling one of the tassels on the rug and starts biting at it.
When a knock sounds, the cat spooks and darts beneath the bed. I get to my feet and walk over, pulling open the door.
Varrik looks me up and down. “I heard you went into the city.”
I step aside for him to pass. “I got back not long ago. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I was going to be allowed to go.”
I note his hair is slightly damp, either from washing or being caught in the rain.
“The guards know that as long as you’re with me or Frid or Ciona, you’re allowed to explore,” he tells me.
“Thank you,” I say, still reeling a bit at how different it is now, with free rein in the castle and the city.
He nods. “How was your visit?”
I set down the brush. “Good. The healers I spoke to are feeling hopeful about the survivors.”
“We’re doing everything we can to help them recover,” he assures me.
“And then where will they go?”
“I’ll have Ciona test the fiends when they’re well, and I’ll check to see if any of the fae have the sounding.
They’ll be brought to Wystinn Burg with the other fiends and possible Latches.
The rest will be settled here in Penbroge or one of my outlier burgs, depending on what they choose.
Their own burg won’t be habitable for a while. ”
There’s another knock on the door, and Varrik goes over to answer it. I hear him say thank you, and then he comes back with a tray in hand.
He catches my curious look. “I thought we could eat together.”
Pleasant surprise goes through me. “I am hungry,” I admit. “The walk into the city was farther than I thought.”
He sets the tray down on my table, and the two of us each take a seat, while the window drips with rain beside us, casting a dreary gray to compete with the glow of the fireplace.
There’s a delicious meat pie that we both gobble down, and I use the fresh bread to scoop up the extra gravy that spills out. The boiled pear cooked in wine and honey melts in my mouth, and I eat it all while Varrik pours me a cup of spiced mead that warms me from the inside out.
When I’m taking a nice big gulp, something winds around my ankle from beneath my skirt and mews, nearly making me choke.
Varrik jolts, brows furrowing as I set down my cup. “What was that?”
“What was what?” I ask, shoving a spoonful of pear into my mouth.
He looks under the table, and I stay completely still. After a moment, he straightens back up, his frown deepening as he glances around the room. “You didn’t hear that?”
I hum in thought and take another spoonful. “I hear the rain. And maybe one of the guards from the corridor?”
“No, it’s—”
Meow.
He pauses. “That. What was that?”
“I think you got rain in your ears,” I say with a dismissive shrug.
His eyes narrow. “I wasn’t in the rain. You were.”
“Oh, right. Well, you did play your music rather loudly yesterday. I’m sure it’s taken a toll on your hearing.”
He leans back in his chair with a shrewd look. “My hearing is very good.”
I reach over and pat his hand patronizingly. “I’m sure you think that.”
It’s incredibly hard not to laugh at the offended look on his face.
But my eyes go wide when I feel the cat move out from beneath my skirt. She slinks over, high and mighty as she will, and then sits right beside our table, peering up at us.
Meow.
Varrik keeps his eyes on me. “Blight.”
“Yes?” I ask innocently.
“There’s a cat.”
“Oh.” I glance down at her. “So there is.”
“Why is there a cat in my castle?”
“This is my room.”
“All of these rooms are my rooms.”
I frown. “Well, then you didn’t really give it to me. That makes the gesture worth less.”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Estinya.”
“Okay, so I have a cat now.”
“You certainly do not,” he says, rather prickly.
I make a face. “I obviously do. She’s right there.”
He drops his hand and levels me with a glare. “Where did she come from?”
“She’s one of the Beddig strays, which, I will point out, you saved by luring out of the Ash. I saw her at the inn. She wanted to come with me. Demanded it, actually.”
“Demanded it.”
“Yes. She was very adamant.”
He lets out a sigh. “You can’t keep a cat.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t like cats.”
“Of course you do,” I retort. “Only fools don’t like cats.”
“I prefer horses.”
I roll my eyes and lean over to pick her up and set her on my lap. “Cats are smart. And independent.”
“And they have hair that sheds everywhere,” he drawls.
“I shed,” I point out with an arched brow as I twist my long hair. “Does that mean you dislike me?”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “She’s going to piss on the rug.”
“She absolutely will not!”
“How do you know?”
“Look at her,” I say, holding her up so she hangs like a rag doll. “She’s a lady.”
Said lady scrambles out of my hands to walk over the table and starts licking the leftover gravy off my plate.
“Yes. Her manners are abundant,” he says dryly.
I bite on the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing as I stroke her back. “She’ll grow on you.”
His lips tick up with amusement that makes happiness spread through me. His tunic is fit to perfection over his solid chest, sleeves unable to hide the bulge of muscles beneath. I’d never say so, but when he gives that almost-smirk, it makes my mouth water.
“Fine. You can keep her.”
I beam at him. “Thank you.”
He points a finger at her face. “Do not piss in my castle, or I will lure you out into the stables to sleep in the manure.”
She ignores him to continue licking up the bits of strewn meat from the pie.
“I’m sure she agreed to your terms,” I say, just to appease him.
The cat finishes up at my plate and then hops down and heads for the door. She sits in front of it and yowls to be let out.
“See? She’s already trained,” I trill as I go to the door and open it for her. She darts out and I close it behind her.
When I turn, Varrik is leaning back in his chair watching me, and I’m reminded of the ashen forest, when he looked so hollow. So emptied. The memory sobers me, and I pad across the room toward him.
“How are you feeling today?”
He tilts his head. “Worried about me?”
His tone is teasing, but I answer with a shy honesty. “Yes.”
That intense study comes back into his gaze. “So sweet,” he murmurs, making my cheeks flush and his lips curl. “I’m fine. I promise. Fully recovered, thanks to you.”
Relief spreads through my chest. “Good.”
He smoothly gets to his feet and clutches my chin between his fingers, tipping my head up so he can look in my eyes, while my heartbeat erupts with drumming.
“If it weren’t for you, I might have burned out yesterday,” he confesses. “Gotten as sick as Birute. That’s all it took for him. One time, when he pushed too far.” His fingers move from my chin to my cheek, and my breath catches at the intimate stroke. “I’m glad I found you.”
My throat thickens, and I stare at his chiseled jaw and reach up to feather a touch over it, just so I can feel its prickle. Dark brown stubble prods against my fingertips, and his eyes shutter closed.
“I’m glad you found me too,” I admit quietly.
His eyes blink open in surprise, flicking between both of mine. “You are?”
I nod slowly, realizing that I mean it. I am glad he found me. Not just because he saved my life, but because my chest aches when I think of never meeting him. Never feeling this permeating heat, or the rush of thrill, or the way my heart seems so much fuller than before.
He stares at me for a beat as if in awe. “You are entirely too good for me.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say softly. My hand moves, trailing lightly over his bicep before stopping at his hip. My fingers graze against the scabbard belted to it, and I lean back, brushing over the warm black metal inside.
He chuckles. “Always trying to get your hands on my pipe.”
I wrench away, cheeks blazing. “I am not.”
Varrik takes the instrument, and much to my surprise, he holds it out to me. “Here.”
I half expect him to snatch it back before I can actually take it, but he doesn’t. I grip it, turning it this way and that in rapt fascination. I held it back in the desert, but having it while he’s watching me is more exhilarating for some reason.
More . . . intimate.
“It’s heavier than I expected.” I skate my thumb over the engravings, though they’re gray, none of the red glow showing. “How does it work?”
He cocks a brow. “Well, you put your mouth on it and blow.”
I smack his chest, embarrassment singeing. “You lecher.”
He grins. “Go ahead and try to use it.”
“I already did, back in the desert.”
“Of course you did,” he says dryly.
“Nothing happened. It didn’t do anything. Disappointing, really.”
He lets out a throaty laugh that makes my insides squirm.
“Did you always play music? Before you got magic?”
He nods. “My mother taught me and my brother.”
I tilt my head, grazing over the flared end. “And does magic always come out when you play?”
He stretches out his hand, and I pass over the pipe. He starts to back away then, one slow step at a time, pouring space between us, and yet somehow, it makes the depth of his presence even more consuming.
“What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously.
“Showing you.”
“Showing me what?”
Amusement dances in his eyes. “Such impatience, blight.”
“Am I still that? The blight of your life?”
“Oh yes,” he says, practically purring. His brown eyes drag down from my face to my body in a slow perusal that leaves warmth in its wake. “No doubt about it. You are spoil and ruin, and you will destroy me completely.”
My stomach swoops at his words. They roil with raw hunger. With underlying heat.
And I’m smoldering, from skin to soul.
“I think you’re going to destroy me too,” I say in a murmur.
In a confession.
“Then we will lie in the rubble together, and I will be glad for it.”
He lifts the pipe, and my nerves twist, body tensing.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
A rattled exhale comes out. “I want to.”
I want to trust that he can change our world. That he can rid us of these Plagues. That he can save Core, and fiend, and fae alike.
But most of all, I want to be able to trust him for me.
I long for that. Even with Theo, I never could cross that line. And it was good that I didn’t, because in the end, he didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t the one. But maybe it could be different with Varrik.
I want it to be different with Varrik.
So instead of bolting, I keep still. Instead of asking him to stop, I hold my tongue. And with my quiet relent, he lifts the pipe to his lips and he plays.