Chapter 12 #2
So many left the docks over the years, running from their problems. The mountains offered a new life for anyone who fled.
And here, a ten-year-old girl picked up the pieces left by the parents that abandoned her and focused on the love she had for her children.
She held no bitterness, no rage, just moved forward.
Tal’s fury lay quiet in her chest, an odd feeling.
Tal limped home, distracted. She and the young woman were two sides of the same coin. While Tal fought tooth and nail to keep male influence out of her life, this woman accepted it and moved on when it no longer served her. She had never thought to consider that perspective.
That night that she helped the little girl, she bumped into Daire on the street.
After seeing the swollen, broken skin and Tal’s black eye, Daire fumed, asking who had hurt her, and Tal relayed the story.
She had actually forgotten the bastard had hit her.
Besides, it could easily be fixed by a healing elixir.
“Maybe this life is too dangerous for you,” Daire had said. His lips thinned, and his grip on her arm grew a bit too tight.
Tal’s mood immediately sobered. “Too dangerous?” Daire had never spoken to her like this before.
“It’s not right for a woman to get into fights, much less have to defend herself against criminals.”
“And who should I expect to defend me?” She tore her arm out of his grip and crossed them over her chest.
“What? Well—me!”
“You?! Why would I need you to defend me?” Confusion flooded Tal. Until that night, Daire would have shared an injury of his own from his training.
“Because that’s what husbands do!”
“Husbands?! Who made you my husband?!”
It was the first of many conversations that shed Daire in a new light.
Eventually, Tal stormed off. She was angry over many things, but mostly she was angry over Daire’s sudden need to be the dominant member of this—whatever it was.
The next time she saw the captain, she hadn’t forgiven him, but he held her face in his hands, kissed the no-longer broken cheek, quickly healed from an elixir, and took her on a horse ride in the woods.
She thought that would be the end of all this husband nonsense, and it was, until something else happened to trigger a similar response from him.
The arguments became more frequent, and Tal quickly lost interest in the relationship while Daire continued to exert his male dominance over her.
And now, nearly every interaction between them turned into an argument, and Daire still seemed determined to take responsibility for Tal after all this time.
Every argument with Daire flooded her mind, fueling her fury, along with each frustratingly painful step.
She paused by an alley and took out yet another healing elixir.
She’d sipped a single jar all day to no effect.
Taking the stopper out, she upended the bottle and swallowed the shimmering yellow liquid in three gulps.
Warm relief washed through her. She held up her still bleeding arm, examining where Daire’s bloody handprint stained her sleeve.
She carefully pulled the fabric back and watched the seeping blood slow, then stop, and the skin knit itself back together.
She fought the urge to scratch the wound despite the feathered sensation there.
Tal breathed a sigh of relief when the opening reduced to a single, angry red line.
But the feeling was short-lived when the shock of an invisible dagger sliced down her skin and opened the wound for the hundredth time.
“Dammit!” She gritted her teeth and pushed off the wall. A dark figure stepped in her path. “Daire, I swear by the gods—”
“Are you alright?” Strong hands steadied her by the shoulders, avoiding her wounds.
Tal noted the way Faron regarded her with concern and scowled. “I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me.” She tried to side-step him, but he held onto her.
“You’re still bleeding.” His voice held concern while his face showed confusion. “The healing elixir didn’t work?”
Tal sighed. “Whatever spell the mage used keeps ripping open my wounds. I need to see my alchemist.”
“You can’t walk in this state. Take a seat.” He gestured to the wall behind her.
“I’m fine, really. Once I get the right formula, I’ll be fine.”
“I brought you something that might work.”
Tal’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Her body ached, her wounds burned, and not in the comforting way her fury did. She would rest for just a moment. She sank to the ground, and Faron joined her.
Faron pulled a vial out of his pocket. A golden honey hue replaced the sunny yellow of most healing elixirs.
“I noticed last night that your wound still bled after the one vial. The king’s alchemist owed me a favor.
She said this should work against any internal injuries caused by blood magic.
” He pulled a brown leather knapsack from behind his back.
“She also said a full stomach will help the elixir work faster.”
The aroma of roasted pheasant and fresh bread hinted at the memory of their conversation from the night before. “No ale?” She smirked.
Faron reached into the sack and pulled out a canteen. “It’s water.”
“I don’t need you wasting your favors on me.” Favors always came with a price. Her wounds throbbed as if in protest.
“I offer it freely, I assure you.”
She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he read her mind. She reluctantly took the vial and drank. The golden liquid warmed her tongue and tasted like spiced honey with a hint of rose water.
“It’s the least I could do after your help last night. Thanks to you, Luan and Nola are safe and on their way to live in a quiet village in the mountains.”
Tal nodded. She closed her eyes with the instant, sweet relief and comforting warmth of her wounds closing properly this time. The satisfying itch worked its way through her muscles. “The king’s alchemist is almost as good as mine,” she sighed.
“I’ll be sure to pass your thanks along.” Faron chuckled.
Her body relaxed as the pain subsided. She reached into Faron’s knapsack for a piece of pheasant—wrapped delicately in brown paper and still warm.
She tore a piece off, and the first bite tasted even better than the food at the king’s ball.
Tal rested her head against the building and closed her eyes, savoring the juicy meat.
After another two bites filled with rosemary, thyme, garlic, and a few other flavors she couldn’t identify, she opened her eyes to find Faron watching her.
He rested an elbow against his knee, propping his head with his fist. His eyes softened, and the skin by them wrinkled in boyish amusement, but Faron’s full jaw and prominent cheekbones were most definitely that of a full-grown man.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded. “Better.” She eyed his attire to avoid his gaze. “You’re getting your expensive pants dirty.”
“Goodness me! Not my expensive pants! What ever shall I do?! Oh right, I’ll just burn them and order my servants to make me new ones. I’ve been meaning to yell at them for something anyways.”
Tal’s laugh died when she thought of the pompous socialites Daire had complained about, and she knew they would have done exactly that.
“I’m kidding, you know.” He leaned over, careful not to bump her shoulder with his. “I made these myself.”
Tal snorted around another bite of pheasant. “You did not.”
“I did indeed. I learned so I could repair my red suit. Can’t have anyone asking questions. And the only way to learn was to say I wanted to make my own clothes. So here I am!” He gestured to his pants with a flourish.
“I don’t believe it. No noble would debase himself by making his own clothes.”
“I guess I’m not a noble then.” He winked at her. “But believe it.” He pointed at the hem by his ankles. “If you look closely, you’ll see that the right hem is a bit lower than the left. And I forgot to put a pocket on the right side.” He pulled at the fabric by his hip to show her.
Tal chuckled. “And your maidservant let you wear them?”
“Oh, she tried to burn them. But I bribed her with chocolates for two weeks. Since then, she’s taught me more, and I’ve made a handful more items, but these are still my favorite.”
They sat in silence and listened to the gulls overhead, the sailors unloading their ships, and the townspeople passing by. Her mind quieted for the first time in weeks. As she relaxed against the wall, her shoulder brushed Faron’s, and she didn’t move away.
Faron rested his head back against the building and closed his eyes.
His chocolate brown hair hung loose by the side of his brow, cropped close enough to avoid his lashes, but long enough to be disturbed by the wind.
In the back, the length tapered and tickled the collar of his brown leather coat.
He smiled at the darkness behind his lids.
“I can feel you staring,” he said.
Tal paused for a breath. “You’re tired.”
Faron nodded. “Looking this good is hard work.”
She scoffed.
“It isn't easy turning down so many beautiful women, you know.” The teasing returned to his tone.
“So don’t.”
“I’m saving myself,” he responded.
“For some foreign princess with a fortune and powerful kingdom to promise herself to you?” Her breath hitched at the intensity in his gaze.
“For a mysterious brown-haired beauty to take off her mask.” He didn’t lean into her or make any crude remarks. He only stared as his lips turned up ever so slightly.
Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. “Any chance she will?”
He turned back to resting his head against the wall. “She’s untrusting, but I’m hopeful she’ll let me in.”
The sarcasm that usually littered her tone failed her. Instead, she searched for the words to fuel his optimism. “I’m sure you’ll do everything in your power to make it so.”
He lifted his head again, a boyish grin pulling at his lips. “Is that an invitation?”
Tal hesitated, unsure how to respond. She searched his face for something, anything to give her a snide remark to throw back at him.
She bit her lip to keep from smiling and stood abruptly.
“I need to get back.” She handed the canteen back to him.
“Thank you for the elixir and food.” She turned without a good-bye and nearly sprinted home, noting the distinct lack of pain in her limbs, and the way her fury curled into her chest like a purring kitten.