“Jenny?” Dnara asked, finding her voice again.
Athan shrugged. “Had to call her something.”
“I like it,” Jenny said, her friendly smile returning. “A good name, Jenny.”
“Was my mother’s name,” Tobin explained.
Dnara stared at Jenny and swallowed another mouthful of tea. Although the hardened, cold-eyed blackrope had hardly looked like a Jenny, she supposed this kindly looking woman with weathered skin, friendly eyes and silver hair could pass for a Jenny. What a difference memories could make of a person, she thought. Though grateful to not have a black noose around her neck, Dnara wondered if a person’s entire life’s worth of memories had been a fair trade for escape.
Did Jenny have a family somewhere? Would they worry when she didn’t return? How long could a King’s Blackrope go missing before being noticed? Would her memories come back, or were they gone forever? All these questions swam around in Dnara’s mind, making her dizzy.
“How’s is it?” the older woman who had brought the tea asked, bringing Dnara’s spinning thoughts to an abrupt halt.
“Pardon?” Dnara asked, having not caught the woman’s words.
“The tea,” the woman clarified. “Would you like a bit more?”
“Yes, please.” Dnara handed the cup back with unsteady hands. “It’s good, ma’am.”
The woman tittered a bit at that. “You hear that, Tobin? I’m a ma’am.”
“That you are,” Tobin grinned then explained. “My wife, Penna. This is my house.”
Dnara took a longer glance around the one room cottage. A large stone fireplace took up most of the back wall, near to the raised, platform straw bed on which she sat. Jenny sat at a roughly hewn wood table on an equally old looking chair. Two small windows with slightly opaque glass told her the day had ended and dusk had settled in. Overhead, a raised thatched roof with limed beams made the cottage feel roomier than it was, and a sky-hatch raised by a supporting post near the fireplace let in a cool touch of air. If she could pick a place to live, out of all the lavish noble houses and bustling cities in all of Ellium, it would be a cottage like this, tucked into a valley between fields somewhere far away from anything magic.
“I brought you here after you fainted,” Athan added, then amended after a thought. “Actually, Jenny carried you on her horse.”
“Least I could do,” Jenny said, her calloused hands wringing and a sullen expression deepening the sun earned wrinkles on her face. “Feel terrible I do, having frightened you so much you done fainted. So sorry, I am.”
“It’s all right,” Athan assured.
“Yes, come now.” Penna patted Jenny’s shoulder. “Finish your soup, before it gets cold.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jenny picked up her spoon.
“All these ma’am’s are enough to make an old woman blush.” Penna tapped Tobin’s shoulder as she passed. “Hope you’re taking note of it.”
“Yes, dear,” Tobin promised with an amused roll of the eyes.
“I’ll take ‘dear’, too.” Penna kissed his cheek before moving to the large fireplace where the teakettle rested. She paused to cough into a handkerchief she kept tucked into the band of her apron, then she glanced back to Tobin. “And why not give the girl some room to breathe, Tobin. Stop staring at her arms like she’s one of those oddities that comes with the fall carnival.”
Tobin’s pale cheeks flushed red as he grinned sheepishly at Dnara. “Sorry, I was only checking your arms to see how they’re healing.”
“It’s okay,” Dnara replied, taking a glance at the scars to find them wider than before, but not red like they’d been after the incident with Jorn. “They’re healing faster than last time.” Her words brought her growing ease to a halt and a cold shiver raced up her spine. Glancing from Tobin to Penna to Athan, she tried to backtrack. “I mean-”
“It’s all right,” Athan assured. “I’ve explained things, or as much as I can. I had to when you showed up on the back of-” He glanced back to Jenny who sat stooped over a bowl of soup, intently slurping it in before it could get cold, like Penna had requested. Athan lowered his voice a bit anyhow. “On the back of a blackrope’s horse,” he finished.
“And a befuddled blackrope at that,” Tobin spoke just as quietly, but ended in a slightly amused guffaw.
“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” Dnara said to Athan, sounding more harsh than she intended, but a renewed fear had crawled its way across her skin. “I will bring trouble to their house just as I have brought trouble to you.”
“You haven’t brought me trouble,” Athan argued and stopped her from getting off the bed.
“The jar of sunberry jam would disagree,” she replied flatly.
Athan just laughed. “I admit, I would’ve loved to have had some jam with Penna’s award winning cornbread.”
Before Dnara could think of a rebuttal to Athan’s nonchalant attitude, the cabin’s door opened and Beothen entered. Dnara froze, thinking that surely the gate guard had come to retrieve the blackrope and finish the job of her capture himself. Athan, however, offered the man a smiled greeting.
“What news?” Athan asked as Beothen shut the door to the low light of early evening.
“All’s well,” Beothen said with a returned smile. “Not so much as a hushed rumor around town about a windstorm, and- Oh, you’re awake. Good to see.”
Beothen’s face couldn’t hide his unease, and his hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist. Dnara couldn’t blame the man. He seemed to be the only one in this cottage with enough sense to be afraid of her and whatever it was that had awakened since she lost her collar. She was afraid, too.
“What of our...friend?” Athan questioned to redirect Beothen’s focus.
Beothen glanced to the blackrope stooped over a bowl of soup then stepped closer to the huddle near the bed
