38. Mare
Mare
It felt strange to be home. I was an outsider who no longer belonged.
Mountains climbed toward the dimming sky, and log cabins dotted their slopes. Snow powdered their roofs, but the evergreen trees covering the cliffs made it feel warmer than it truly was.
Following the winding northern road through the mountains would bring us home, to Casaloch. But we’d be heading straight east—into the Tornaeth plains.
Lady Brighid had provided us with more horses; I no longer had to ride with Reese. Part of me had been utterly relieved to be away from him, the other, terribly disappointed. The ride had been much colder without the press of Reese's constant warmth.
My wound was healing, at least. Swaying back and forth in the saddle no longer felt like an exercise in torture.
My horse's hooves clopped on the rocky paths, leading me past pale Stormborns wrapped in heavy furs.
An undeniable air of fear permeated the town.
More guards than usual watched the walls, and the people glanced over their shoulders, as though worried a dragon would descend from the shadows.
They strode with a hurried gait, eager to reach their destination.
We drew their attention, though. A group of travelers with two Solhearts and a noble Fireborn woman—we might as well have waltzed in with jingling jester bells.
“See?” Brighid drew her horse up alongside Reese. “The city stands. Aenir isn't being torn apart as we speak after all.”
“It still doesn't feel right,” Reese said. “Loitering here.”
“The king can wait a few days for your report.” Brighid rode past him. “And should the monsters strike, well, you’re closer to the south here than at the capital, no?”
“She has a point,” I said.
Reese side-eyed me. “It's bad enough when Brighid and Bláth are together; I don’t need you siding with them, too.”
Liam snorted behind me.
Brighid looked over her shoulder. “I’ll get us rooms. Bláth—refill our packs. Reese—find a bath, you’re covered in blood and dirt.”
I marveled at the woman’s commanding confidence as she rode off.
The gulf between a real noblewoman and me was becoming apparent.
Had I seemed like a pretender all these years?
Bláth rode around Liam and placed a hand on his arm. “Why don’t you come with me? There won’t be another chance to refill rations.”
“Oh, I’d love to,” Liam’s voice sang with exaggerated sweetness. “We have so much to talk about.”
I glanced between them, wondering why my brother sounded borderline hostile. He shot me a look, eyes narrowed, chin tilted, but said nothing.
I knew that look. Liam wanted to talk alone.
Bláth smiled brightly at me as she trotted past, guiding Liam deeper into the mountain town. Leaving me alone with the Paragon.
Great.
“So.” I turned to Reese. “Baths?”
“Mhm.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “I have squirely duties for you.”
“For the last time, I am not your squire.”
Reese rode off, and I reluctantly followed.
Baths. Alone.
What could go wrong?
Aenir bathhouses were cozy little shacks, nestled across from taverns or inns. A weary smile stretched across my face as I peered through the torchlit windows of the inn and saw a dancer inside.
She twirled with pale green silks, long sashes circling her body. Emerald streaks brightened the air, hints of wind magic holding her gown aloft. I could hear the music accompanying her, a quick-tempo’d song strummed on a lute, the accompanying drums rumbling through the walls.
Saints, but the sounds of home lightened my heart.
Slipping my leg over the saddle, I prepared for the arduous task of dismounting. Reese practically leaped off his horse and appeared at my side, offering a hand.
“What happened to not coddling me?” I asked.
“You’re injured. Enjoy it while it lasts,” he said.
I reached for his hand, but he had other plans. He grabbed my waist as I slipped from the saddle and gently set me down on the road. His hands lingered around my waist; one gently curled around to my lower back.
Golden eyes gazed down into mine, soft and dreamlike.
Butterflies tumbled through my chest, and words died in my throat. I'd been close to men countless times: dancing, talking, bumping shoulders. Never had their closeness set my hair standing on end, made the very air feel thick and stifling.
Reese blinked and released me, stepping back sharply.
The air rushed back into my lungs. I found my voice and made a brilliant retort.
“I could have done that myself,” I said.
Reese chuckled. “Do you know what most squires in Aenir do?” He backed away and leaned against the bathhouse door.
“Train under their knight?” I guessed.
“And help him don and doff his armor.” Reese pushed the door open.
Oh. Oh.
Wobbling, I pursued him through the door, trying to decide if I desperately wanted to escape. Or if I absolutely needed to stay.
The poor bath maid paled at the sight of a Paragon in her little establishment. She drew a bath, nervous and flustered, and tripped over her feet when Reese dismissed her.
I stepped through the privacy curtain, drinking in the heat. A log boiler sat beside the wooden tub, a few pitchers rested on a shelf, and rough rags hung from a hook for drying.
Not quite royal, but after the road, it was a luxury.
Reese sat on one of the stools. "I was joking, by the way. I just wanted to talk to you in private."
"About the armor?" I tilted my head. "I won't have you telling anyone I'm a poor squire. My armor is nothing compared to yours, and it's still a pain." I gestured for him to give me his arm.
"If you insist.” He offered me the first vambrace.
Staring down, I set to unlatching the armor. "In private, hm? Have something scandalous in mind?"
"Remember when we talked about all the rumors you've heard about me?"
"Go on," I said, eyes flicking up with interest.
Reese didn't look humored or coy. He wore a heavy frown.
"It's true," he said softly. "I did lose an arm."
"Yes, very funny," I scoffed, looking between his very intact pair of appendages.
"Take off the right glove. See for yourself."
Setting down the left vambrace, I reached for the right, hands hesitating just short of the steel. Curiosity won out. Unlatching the straps, I pulled the vambrace off.
Underneath was the black glove he'd never taken off. The moment I touched it, heat surged through my fingers and lanced into my arm. Grimacing, I pulled my hand away.
Reese rolled up his sleeve, then slowly pulled off the glove. Flesh and bone extended just past the elbow, but beyond that . . .
It was light. Mesmerizing white, streaked with veins of gold and formed into the perfect shape of a forearm and hand. The golden veins reached up from the strange appendage, melding with the veins on his real arm.
"I keep it hidden," Reese said, turning it over. "It unsettles most people."
I couldn't deny the sight disturbed me. The more I stared, the more my stomach turned.
I had no idea why.
"How are you doing that?" I wondered. "The amount of magic it must require . . . "
"It's not magic; it's a prosthetic. Forlaith's court mage made it for me."
"What in Solathair's name is it made of?"
"Some new ore they found in northern Lavaire. It conducts Solheart magic miraculously well, apparently." He pulled the glove back on.
The moment the pulsing light vanished into his glove, the sense of unease fled the room.
I narrowed my eyes. "Why is it just a rumor, then? Couldn't people tell you were missing an arm, before you got that?"
Reese shrugged his shoulders. His black cape shifted with the movement, neatly covering his right arm.
"Please," I scoffed. "You have not hidden a missing arm with only a cape."
"You'd be amazed." He smirked, then glanced away.
I felt like an idiot. A hint of shame colored his cheeks. The loss of his arm, perhaps even what had taken it, was not something he liked to talk about—or even wanted people to know about at all.
Something from his past, no doubt, that he so detested thinking about.
Reese had shared something vulnerable about himself with me. I should do the same.
But my deepest secret was one I could never dare speak of.
Stepping closer, I reached for his pauldron, but he brushed my hand away and stood. "Ladies should have the bath first. I'll give you some privacy. If you need me, I'll be pulling all this off in the other room." Grimacing, he reached for the straps of his chestplate.
"You've already seen all I have to offer," I blurted out, gesturing to my wound. "You can stay."
Reese froze, gaze fixed on my face.
I turned, horrified. Not even the village idiot would think I'd been doing anything but flirting.
"Besides.” I cleared my throat. "Bathing with this wound will be a pain. I could use a hand."
A moment of agonizing silence passed before he answered. "You never did get to enjoy the benefits of my servitude, I suppose." He turned his back, hiding his wicked smile. "At least suds up the water, lest you kill every religious soul in the country."
I chortled, grabbed a bar of soap, and dipped it into the water. Aenir folk weren't half as prudish as our neighbors. Of those in the Forlaith alliance, we were still the youngest. The Empire's strict religion had only bound us for as long as I'd lived.
Father had once told me of the festivals thrown beneath branches strung with lights.
Young men gathered before shrines of the Hunt Saint and invoked its blessing before chasing the women they were courting.
A faint smile had touched his lips as he described the giggles dancing through the trees as women fled their men, of my mother and how she effortlessly slipped away before reappearing to offer a new challenge.
Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the bath and sank into the water. A tiny voice at the back of my head chided me. It sounded an awful lot like Liam.
‘You idiot. What are you doing? Stop.’
Too late. I would have been a disappointment at the Hunt Saint's festival, offering myself up on a platter rather than playing coy and dancing away.