“Shevina’ll let anyone grope her. How much did you tip her?”
“A day’s pay and . . .” Bran trailed off. “Oh.”
“You could have spent that much on a whore,” Dajouth said. “Not for me, of course. I prefer to woo my ladies. Your mother’s a widow, right? I bet she’s lonely—”
Though Bran’s torso was bound, his legs weren’t. He kicked hard, foot slamming into the back of Dajouth’s knees. He went down hard, landing with a grunt on his back. Ōbhin’s laughter joined the others’, Cerdyn’s the loudest.
“You deserved that,” Fingers said. “Only thing worse than boastin’ about wooin’ a man’s wife before him is talkin’ ‘bout his mother.”
“Lesson learned,” groaned Dajouth. “So I shouldn’t try to charm Jilly.”
Smiles shrugged. “My wife ain’t like Fingers’s wayward bride. My Jilly’ll just laugh in your face.”
Fingers spat. “Waste of time carryin’ on for women. They just suck everything from you. Stick you full of needles and let your blood drip out bit by bit. Why there’re so many widows.”
“You need to find a better woman,” grunted Cerdyn.
“You have a wife?” Fingers asked with skeptical derision.
“Had.”
Fingers studied Cerdyn for a moment as the grins faded from Ōbhin’s lips and the others’. “Sorry,” muttered Fingers. He popped his knuckles. “May her soul have risen cleansed to Elohm’s bosom.”
Cerdyn nodded once.
Ōbhin cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s get back to sparring. Bran, in a fight, never turn your back on someone even to wave to your mother. We all love ours, but we don’t act like a three-year-old boy who found his first pine cone.”
Bran blushed again and nodded.
As the clash of metal rang, Ōbhin glanced up at the blackberry hill. Should I be here?
A pull, deep inside of him, grew. It was around his naval, tugging at him, wanting to draw him away. If he stayed, he’d just let Dualayn and the others down. He’d failed so many. Taim, the prince he’d sworn to serve. Foonauri, whom he’d sworn to love. His family. Carstin.
Ust would have no reason to threaten Dualayn and his people if he left. Avena and the rest would be safe.
Ōbhin’s black-gloved hand tightened on the hilt of his resonance blade. He should just kill Ust and leave Kash before the city watch could track him down. He could find another bandit band and sink back into the darkness.
The numbing black. No emotions. No cares. Was that so bad?
He stared at his gloves. What did it matter? He was stained. Nothing could wash his crimes away. Why bother?
He didn’t notice Smiles until the man said in a low voice, “You okay?”
“No,” Ōbhin said, too worn down to lie.
“You need to talk?”
“I don’t.” The words wouldn’t come. Not yet.
“Well, when you’re ready.” Smiles clapped a hand on Ōbhin’s shoulder and squeezed him through the leather jerkin. Then he jogged over to where Cerdyn glowered on his back, wrapped up in the purple binding. Smiles had no limp, healed by Dualayn’s creation.
Ōbhin sighed. Will I ever be ready?
*
After finishing cleaning Dualayn’s lab, the need for answers itched at Avena.
She went in search of Miguil.
She exited the house by the kitchen. From here, she could see the back lawn sloping down to the lakeshore. Near the small dock, Dualayn knelt before his wife, holding her hand. He appeared to be speaking to her. The intimacy struck Avena.
She hurried to the stables, her dark-brown skirts swirling.
She found Miguil spreading hay inside. One of the carriage horses neighed, sticking his muzzle over his stall door, his black eyes staring at her.
“He wants a blackberry,” said Miguil. He bent down to a bucket and plucked one out. “Picked some for ‘em.” He tossed it at her.
She gasped and fumbled to catch it. The small, plump berry bounced off the front of her dress and landed on her wrist. Before it rolled off her, she snatched it up and held it for the horse. He licked it off her palm, soaking her hand.
“We need to talk,” she said as memories of last night swirled through her mind. The embarrassed anger returned as she batted away the disgusting images.
“‘Bout what?” Miguil asked.
“I am breaking our promise. I no longer intend to be your wife.”
“Oh,” he said.
She stared at him. “That’s it? ‘Oh’?”
He shrugged. “Any reason you’re breakin’ it?”
“I don’t love you.” She folded her arms before her, aware of how sticky her palm was. “That seems good enough cause. Do you love me?”
He shook his head.
“So why did you ask for my promise?”
“Thought you’d make a good wife. Nothing says there has to be love. We’re good together, or so I thought.” He smiled at her, that handsome, beguiling grin that made his face go from handsome to beautiful.
A flutter stirred through her; that heat she’d mistaken for love.
“I figured we’d sort of grow close. Become fond of each other. Grow old knowin’ the other was dependable. Someone supportive. Someone you can count on.”
“Well, I want more than that.” I want something that can fill this hole inside of me.
Miguil shrugged. “Well, then find someone who you can love. I wish you the best.”
She wanted to be mad at him. He was taking this too easy. It hurt knowing he didn’t love her. It was a selfish emotion. She wanted to have a handsome husband so bad. If she had never caught Miguil with Pharon, would she just have woken up one day and realized she’d never loved the man? Would it be in five years? Ten? Would they have had children? How miserable would she be then?
How miserable would he be? He didn’t love her. Couldn’t be with the person he loved.
“I do mean that, Avena. You’re a good woman. You’d make
