“Someone did that on purpose?” The man asked again, watchful of Penryn’s actions, even if he had taken three steps backward, away from Grim’s challenge.
“Aye,” Grimult agreed, turning back to Penryn. For a moment she thought he was going to reach out a hand to help her to her feet, his hand already twitching to do so, but then he paused, glancing at her, his eyes full of question.
Oh.
They had discussed this, had both agreed that it was not in their best interest to flaunt their status of bonded mates, which meant that if she was the Lightkeep and he the Guardian, simple touches were no longer appropriate.
She hated it.
Hated it fiercely.
She had rights as his wife, to touch and be touched, to love him and hold him close, to kiss away the salty taste to his lips until they were warm and soft and all was right again.
But they had an audience, and they had work yet to do, and they had agreed.
So she got to her feet herself, straightening her cloak and trying to regain some of the dignity she had allowed to slip away by her frantic attentions to Grimult.
“We should go,” Penryn urged Grim, wondering if he knew the way or if they would have to wait until nightfall to check the star’s positioning before they made their trek to the keep.
“Now, hold on,” one of the men interjected. He looked more familiar than the others, confirmed by the fledgling clinging to his side. All big eyes and nervous tension, his attention darted between the newcomers, although he seemed most fixated on Penryn and what was notably absent from her back. “You’ve been hurt and could use a hot meal to warm you up.” His gaze strayed to Penryn’s pocket, and he frowned briefly. “But we don’t want any trouble either.”
Penryn looked to Grim, his colour still far too pale. He would look to her, would yield to the course she thought most necessary, but she would dearly like his input.
But they had no time to converse, no privacy to work out their wisest course.
“We need to speak with the sages,” she expressed at last, finding that truth fairly innocuous. The clans had keepers of the peace amongst each of them, and her declaration would mean the matter was a deeper one, involving their people as a whole rather than the separate factions. “But I admit that your offer is a welcome one.”
The man nodded, holding tightly to his boy’s hand. “Right,” he nodded, although he still appeared slightly wary, as if already questioning if his offer had been made in error. “Right,” he said again, leaning down and scooping his son up into his arms.
“I can do it myself, Papa!” the fledgling disagreed, wriggling and jerking in his attempts to free himself.
“There are dangers about,” came the father’s stern reply, quelling his son’s struggles with a look. “We will practise more when it is safe to do so.”
Chastened, the boy hung his head briefly before turning his attention back toward Penryn and Grim. His eyes were bright with enthusiasm, but Penryn could not quite imagine what had caused such a sudden turn in his mood. “I will show you my alcove when we get home,” he announced, and Penryn blinked at him.
The father shook his head, something suggesting that the outburst had embarrassed him, but she was uncertain as to the reason.
Alcove.
Not room.
Her attention drifted to the cliffs further out, and she swallowed.
“And you live...”
The man gave her an apologetic look. “Our dwelling has been in my family for ten generations,” he answered proudly. “But you will need to be escorted.”
Grimult moved to put his arm about her, but another stepped forward, drawing Grimult’s gaze as a hand reached out. “It would not be safe.” Penryn worried that an altercation might take place, but the man who questioned did not appear frightened by Grim’s sudden glare, only determined. “Any with eyes can see how exhausted you are,” he insisted. “We will help you there to rest, and another will take the girl.”
Grimult’s mouth opened and she could hear the refusals before they had even fallen from his lips. “Grim,” she murmured softly, risking a brush of her fingers against his hand. He turned, and for a brief moment she was the one receiving his glare before he seemed to realise himself, softening as he regarded her. “We need help,” she finished gently, hoping he could see there was no insult in that.
They were not going to succeed with only the two of them.
Not against a horde with anger in their hearts and weapons in their hands.
They were nearly bested by five, unrelenting in their pursuit.
She swallowed, pushing back the fear, for it could do no good here. Not yet.
Grimult gave a low nod, but it was plain to see that he was displeased by the arrangement. “It isn’t far,” their host assured them, and he smiled at them pleasantly before taking to the air with his fledgling, presumably to make any necessary preparations in the short time before his guests appeared.
“If I may?” came a voice behind her, and Penryn nodded hesitantly. He was a burly sort, unlike most of the lithe and willowy figures she had presumed made up the whole of their kind. But his strength made her feel less of a burden for accepting his assistance.
He did not carry her as Grimult did, with arms and legs a tangle about him. He only plucked her up by the waist, and Penryn swallowed thickly as suddenly they were airborne, her eyes seeking out Grimult’s as two others grabbed hold of him and did the same.
She could not get any words to come forth, even the most genial of pleasantries, so the flight was short and silent. She had lost most of her fear in the previous days of flight, time and familiarity making it far more commonplace
