“You never courted a woman before Bravine?”
“Why do you ask?”
“It’s Miguil.” The embarrassment flooded through her again, her mouth drying. “I caught him last night . . . with another.”
“One of the maids?” Dualayn asked. “Or a cook?”
“No, no, it was . . .” The words caught in her throat. “No woman who works here. It doesn’t matter. But I can’t be with him.”
“Do you love him, child?”
She stared at the man who’d come to replace her father. She could never admit some truths to Dualayn, like her culpability in Chames coming down with the spring fever. She feared Dualayn would abandon her like her real father had. “I don’t think I did. I thought so, but shouldn’t it be hard to let him go?” Saying those words aloud welled a sadness in her. Not for losing Miguil, but for losing what he represented. “I think I was in love with the idea of being in love.”
“You fear to be alone?”
“I needed something to fill this . . . this hole in me. It never stays full for long. I keep feeling like I’m missing something. I thought Miguil would replace it, or maybe healing or even fighting. It distracts me, but . . .” Tears stung her eyes. “Can anyone love a person like me?”
“My son did. I know he did.”
“How can you be sure? How do you know that your wife . . . ?” She choked back the words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that.”
“You can never really know,” Dualayn said. “As far as I know, she loved me. Was faithful to me.”
“If she wasn’t?”
“If she had and was sorry, I would forgive her. We all make mistakes.” A darkness clouded his face, a deathly rasp to his voice. “Mistakes that cost.”
“Like hiring the wrong doctor to heal your wife?” She regretted the words the moment the left her mouth.
He cleared his throat. “I am sorry, child. I need to take my wife for a walk. I haven’t in a few days.”
Avena nodded as he retreated. She pondered her hollow soul. She wasn’t angry for being betrayed, but at Ōbhin witnessing her being a fool and at Miguil for using her as his mask. She had pursued the handsome young groom when he first was hired, his smile setting off the passion Chames had stirred in her. She’d won him over a few of the other maids.
And he hadn’t loved her back.
“I didn’t love him,” she whispered as she finished cleaning. “Did I ever love Chames, or did I think I did?”
A chill ran through her.
“Did I ever love Evane?” I stood there and watched her die.
She dissolved into tears.
*
Ōbhin wasn’t surprised when Avena didn’t show up to the morning practice after breakfast. After last night, he couldn’t blame the girl for not wanting to show her face. He knew that betrayal well. The way it tore out your guts and heart all at the same time. He remembered the gasping realization that the woman he loved had given herself to another.
Even if only once.
He’d never had the courage to confront Foonauri after they’d left Qoth. He didn’t want to hear the truth from her lips. He’d rather pretend that Taim had forced her into the engagement and his bed. To hate the man he’d murdered.
Every time he saw her naked face, he knew Taim had seen it, too. The lie crumbled bit by bit.
I am such a coward.
Ōbhin drifted through his dark thoughts as he watched the training. He had Bran and Dajouth paired up. They needed the most work. Both were young and eager. Aduan had as much skill as Fingers while Cerdyn could challenge Ōbhin. The large man had faced real death. He’d clashed blades and come out a survivor. The sort of man Ust would hire for his brigands. A skilled killer. The other two seemed harmless. Dajouth had an innocence about him that he tried to hide with his constant flow of flattery to any woman that caught his eye, while Aduan was an old friend of Smiles.
Fingers cracked his knuckles while he waited for Aduan to stand up, wrapped up in a binding. Ōbhin nodded in approval. With Avena missing, Ōbhin was the odd one out. Which was fine. He was their leader.
He had to be separate from them.
For now . . . Why am I here?
The creak of wheels caught his ears. Joayne was pushing Bravine around the yard again. If it was a nice day, Joayne would wheel the woman out to the lakeshore or around the flowers. The motherly nurse would babble to the invalid like Bravine could understand. Instead, she’d drool onto the bib that protected the elegant dresses she wore.
Today, it was Dualayn pushing the wheelchair, Joayne following at a distance. She glanced at Ōbhin and smiled, waving. The Qothian frowned and was about to wave back when Bran gave an enthusiastic shout.
Of course, she was waving at her son.
“Are you sure you should be training instead of suckling at your mom’s teat?” asked Dajouth.
Purple light flared and Bran gasped. Dajouth, with a causal prod of his binder, had wrapped up the youngest guard. Bran fell forward on his face and squirmed on the ground, his cheeks going red as he rolled onto his back.
Smiles burst into laughter. “Oh, Bran’s been weaned from his mother’s teat, but he still hungers. I’ve seen him buggin’ the barmaids.”
“Smiles,” groaned Bran as laughter chuckled from the other guards.
“He was tryin’ to root at Shevina’s troth last night, weren’t he, Smiles?” Aduan asked, a big grin across his splotched face.
“She let me feel ‘em,” said Bran, sounding proud. “I gave
