Ōbhin relaxed. Bran leaned against the gate looking about to pass out while Dajouth clapped along to Smiles’s and Aduan’s bawdy song. They trailed off when Smiles noticed Ōbhin and Cerdyn a few paces off.
“There you are!” Smiles said. “You should have come out with us.”
“Could have kept him from passing out in the alley after taking a piss,” said Aduan, smiling. In the dark, his splotched face was all shadows beneath his hat.
“The landlord served a strong brew tonight,” Smiles said. “Hit me hard.”
“I went to hose down the gutters when I found him snoring, his face an inch from a yellow puddle.” Aduan grinned. “Saved him from drowning.”
“It was your puddle,” Smiles said.
“And?”
Both men burst into laughter. Bran groaned beside them, clutching his stomach. The young guard staggered and fell to his knees. Ōbhin winced at the retching sound.
“Needs to learn to hold his liquor,” said Dajouth. “Can’t be a proper guard if you can’t do that. That’s what me ma always told me.” His hand clutched the front of his shirt like he was grabbing something beneath. “Dajouth, my boy, your pa was a true guard. Could drink the entire ale barrel and still break the bones of any man who thought to trifle with my honor.”
“Charming woman,” Cerdyn grunted.
“Just the best,” Dajouth said, smiling foolishly. “As pretty as Avena and food cooked as good as any delight that comes out of Madam Kaylin’s kitchen.” He smiled. “Do you think there’s anything to eat?”
“Wake up the cook, and she’ll serve you for supper,” Bran muttered.
“What a sweet woman,” Dajouth said, then he staggered up to the house.
Smiles snorted. “That’s not a word ever been used to describe Kaylin.”
“She was better before her husband died,” Bran said. He stood up with a groan. His legs quivered.
Smiles shrugged and march up to the path without a limp. “Jilly’s going to be mad if I don’t get back to her bed. She gets worried, you know.”
“You mentioned that,” Ōbhin said. “How’s your leg?”
“Good, good. Those topaz healers do wonders. I could march up the blackberry hill and down without a problem.”
“You do that right now, and Jilly will skin you and serve your tripes for supper.”
“She’d never do that. My Jilly’s a sweet girl.”
Ōbhin snorted at that. He walked with his men up to the manor house. No one was meeting with Ust tonight, but the bastard was out there. Plotting. Ōbhin needed to do something. These people were all in danger because of him.
Should I just leave? Dualayn has competent guards. Mostly. Smiles and Fingers can teach the others.
Ust’s words echoed in Ōbhin’s mind. Was leaving better for everyone else at the estate, or just for his own sake?
Chapter Nineteen
Thirty-Ninth Day of Compassion, 755 EU
Avena blinked bleary eyes as she smoothed down her dark-brown skirt over her petticoats. She didn’t want to leave her room. Mortification suffused her over what she’d witnessed last night. She wanted to hide beneath her covers, fearing everyone would know.
She sighed. She had her duties in the house. She patted her braid of brown hair and then opened her bedroom door. Her eyes felt like grit. She hadn’t managed to find sleep. She kept seeing that shocking sight of the two men pressed tight, their lips locked in the passion she’d always hoped for from Miguil.
The passion she’d tasted from Chames before his death.
“Blessed mornin’, Avena,” Jilly greeted, the brunette maid smiling over the pile of linens she carried.
“Blessed morning,” muttered Avena.
“You sound like my husband.” Jilly’s brows wrinkled. “The guards forced my Phelep to stay out drinkin’ far too late. He’s sufferin’ for it. Ōbhin shouldn’t allow them to go carousin’ in such perilous times. They should be here protectin’ us.”
“At least Smiles should,” Avena said.
Jilly’s grin vanished. “His name is Phelep. It’s a good name. A proper and handsome name. Now I have to change Bravine’s soiled bedding.”
Avena nodded. It wasn’t uncommon for Dualayn’s invalid wife to have accidents in the night. The poor woman’s mind was lost, destroyed by the clumsy skill of a surgeon trying to repair a broken spine. Dualayn still labored to fix her.
That’s love, Avena thought as she marched forward. Not pretending to court a woman to hide your true desires. Just using me!
Anger seethed through her as she marched down the stairs to the main hall, her skirts swaying. She ran her hand down the banister. It needed polishing. Her heeled shoes clicked on the hardwood runners as she swept down into the grand hall.
“I do not see why one of the guards could not do this job, sir,” came the fussy voice of Pharon.
Avena hissed in a breath and froze on the stairs. She glared down at the butler, wearing his pressed jacket, struggling to carry a stretcher. The older man’s face was flushed and twisted with his exertions.
Flashes of last night burst in Avena’s mind. Her hands clenched as she stared at the man who’d stolen away her Miguil. A moment later, her wandering promised appeared, holding the other end of the stretcher, a covered body on it. She wanted to march down and . . .
Covered body?
“Miguil, see that the church gives him a proper burial bathed in all the Colours,” came the weary voice of Dualayn.
Avena’s stomach dropped. She hurried down the stairs as Pharon and Miguil carried the stretcher out. She glanced at the older man. He absently polished the glass face of his jewelchine pocket watch, attached to his waistcoat by a gold chain.
“The third patient, Father?” she asked, taking a hesitant step towards him.
Dualayn blinked and looked up. “Oh, Avena.” He tucked the watch
