“I am not angry,” Penryn said instead, offering that at least so as to spare the woman some measure of guilt. “But I am tired.”
Mara’s shoulders slumped but she nodded, although she looked rather wistfully at the rest of the clothing upon the bed. “Who will see to the rest?” she asked, nibbling at her lip. “Or should I take it away with me?”
Penryn did not miss the small, hopeful glance that she was given, perhaps looking for reprieve, permission to remain just long enough to finish her work.
Perhaps it was wrong to eject her so quickly, but Penryn feared making more mistakes, revealing more than was strictly necessary over the course of polite conversation.
And she had the healer to attend her as well, a dangerous examination should a difference be found between her form and what was expected of a true land-dweller.
“I am quite capable of finishing,” Penryn instructed, not feeling it necessary to issue a true command that Mara leave her presence, but the awareness hanging between them, strained and tense all the same.
“Of course,” Mara acquiesced, putting down the garment she had clutched in her distress, smoothing with a soft hand before standing back and crossing the room with swift, purposeful strides. “If there is anything else you require, you may just pull that cord there.” Penryn followed the pointed finger, her eyes landing on a thing line of tapestry attached to some mechanism in the ceiling. “I will attend you unless... unless you would like to request someone else be assigned to your care?”
There was no mistaking the anxious look about her, and Penryn wondered if it was wise to suggest multiple people share the task, lest she grow too close to any of them. But she paused, watching as Mara fidgeted with her skirts, her gaze upon the floor. Respie hardly wanted to be there at all, let alone be summoned for chores and the like. “I would be grateful for your assistance,” Penryn murmured at last, uncertain what else to say. She wished no ill on the woman, only desired privacy and to keep from making any further mistakes.
And although Penryn could claim little knowledge of such things, it was possible that if Penryn’s wishes were misunderstood, Mara might be released from the sages’ employ, her livelihood revoked. Were wages hard to come by in this land? Where the sea was not readily beside, with fish to catch and feed hungry young?
Penryn hardly desired destitution on her conscience.
Mara visibly relaxed at Penryn’s declaration, and there was a timid smile on her lips as she nodded her head and opened the heavy door to the chamber and slipped out, the clang of hinge and metal handle leaving doubt that the latch had caught.
At least none could startle her while she slept, sneaking in unawares.
She glanced at the food, the warmth of the fire bringing forth a lethargy that was difficult to ignore. But she needed sustenance, even if she did not attack her plate with as much vigour as when first it had appeared. The portions were too generous, the sauces too rich, so when her stomach began to feel the first stretch of fullness, she diverted her attention to the little cup of cider, a careful sip concluding it was much to her liking. A sweetness that suggested a fruit had been used in the brew, although she could not name it in particular. The cup itself was dark earthenware, so she could not see if there was a hue that might give her some clue as to its origin.
To be alone meant more time to her thoughts, to feelings that threatened to drown her if she paid heed to them too long. But the cider seemed to still the racing, to slow her heart and nerves, her eyes growing heavier as she stared into the flames before her. She had to be on her guard, had to mind her tongue until the time was right, had to keep from thinking too much of a Guardian she had left behind, of the heart he carried with him that once had belonged to her...
But perhaps shutting her eyes for just a moment would not be so remiss.
After all, she had walked a very long way...
And before she had even made the conscious effort to do so, she slept.
Three
She awoke with a start, at first uncertain of her surroundings or what had made her waken in such panic in the first place. Then, vaguely aware there was something in her hand it was tumbling forward, she clutched at it fiercely, her heart pounding even as her eyes darted about her, trying to make sense of the stones, the unrelenting red that seemed to decorate its every facet. No leaves, no boughs overhead, birdsong greeting her each morning before she would turn and steal glances at a sleeping Grim, however rare it was that she would wake before him.
Then the door swung open and a head appeared, and she tensed all the more to be peered at. “Forgive the intrusion, you did not answer at my knock and I grew concerned.”
Her head felt muzzy and confused, and she realised the thing in her hand was a small cup still mostly filled with cider, and she realised the disaster that would have come had she dropped it. She placed it hastily on the tray lest something else happen to it and she find herself drenched in sticky, fragrant liquid.
He did not wait for an invitation to accompany her in the chamber, but she had not expected him to do so and found she was almost grateful as she was still fighting back her own confusion.
“Are you quite all right?” the man asked, his robes a deep black as he moved closer, hunching forward to look at her eyes. Not touching, not yet, and despite herself,
