The Warded Man (Demon Cycle, #1)(39)

“She’s not much of a cook, Gared,” Elona apologized, “but it’s filling enough if you hold your nose.”

Steave, gulping ale at the time, snorted it out his nose. Gared laughed at his father, and Elona snatched the napkin from Erny’s lap to dry Steave’s face. Leesha looked to her father for support, but he kept his eyes on his bowl. He hadn’t said a word since emerging from the shop.

It was too much for Leesha. She cleared the table and retreated to her room, but there was no sanctuary there. She had forgotten that her mother had given the room to Steave for the duration of his and Gared’s indefinite stay. The giant woodcutter had tracked mud across her spotless floor, leaving his filthy boots atop her favorite book, where it lay by her bed.

She cried out and ran to the treasure, but the cover was hopelessly muddied. Her bedclothes of soft Rizonan wool were stained with Creator knew what, and stank of a foul blend of musky sweat and the expensive Angierian perfume her mother favored.

Leesha felt sick. She clutched her precious book tightly and fled to her father’s shop, weeping as she tried futilely to clean the stains from her book. It was there Gared found her.

“So this is where ya run off to,” he said, moving to encircle her in his burly arms.

Leesha pulled away, wiping her eyes and trying to compose herself. “I just needed a moment,” she said.

Gared caught her arm. “Is this about the joke yur mum made?” he asked.

Leesha shook her head, trying to turn away again, but Gared held her fast.

“I was only laughing at my da,” he said. “I loved yur stew.”

“Really?” Leesha sniffed.

“Really,” he promised, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. “We could feed an army of sons on cooking like that,” he husked.

Leesha giggled. “I might have trouble squeezing out an army of little Gareds,” she said.

He held her tighter, and put his lips to her ear. “Right now, I’m only interested in you squeezing one in,” he said.

Leesha groaned, but she gently pushed him away. “We’ll be wed soon enough,” she said.

“Yesterday ent soon enough,” Gared said, but he let her go.

Leesha lay curled up in blankets by the common room fire. Steave had her room, and Gared was on a cot in the shop. The floor was drafty and cold at night, and the wool rug was rough and hard to lie upon. She longed for her own bed, though nothing short of burning would erase the stench of Steave and her mother’s sin.

She wasn’t even sure why Elona bothered with the ruse. It wasn’t as if she was fooling anyone. She might as well put Erny out in the common room and take Steave right to her bed.

Leesha couldn’t wait until she and Gared could leave.

She lay awake, listening to the demons testing the wards and imagining running the papermaking shop with Gared, her father retired and her mother and Steave sadly passed on. Her belly was round and full, and she kept books while Gared came in flexed and sweaty from working the grinder. He kissed her as their little ones raced about the shop.

The image warmed her, but she remembered Bruna’s words, and wondered if she would be missing something if she devoted her life to children and papermaking. She closed her eyes again, and imagined herself as the Herb Gatherer of Cutter’s Hollow, everyone depending on her to cure their ills, deliver their babies, and heal their wounds. It was a powerful image, but one harder to fit Gared or children into. An Herb Gatherer had to visit the sick, and the image of Gared carrying her herbs and tools from place to place didn’t ring true, nor did the idea of him keeping an eye on the children while she worked.

Bruna had managed it, however many decades ago, marrying, raising children, and still tending the folk, but Leesha didn’t see how. She would have to ask the old woman.

She heard a click, and looked up to see Gared gingerly stepping from the shop. She pretended to be asleep until he drew near, then rolled over suddenly. “What are you doing out here?” she whispered. Gared jumped and covered his mouth to muffle a yelp. Leesha had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud.

“I just came to use the privy,” Gared whispered, coming over and kneeling beside her.

“There’s a privy in the shop,” Leesha reminded him.

“Then I came for a good-night kiss,” he said, leaning in with his lips puckered.

“You had three when you first went to bed,” Leesha said, playfully smacking him away.

“Is it so bad to want another?” Gared asked.

“I suppose not,” Leesha said, putting her arms around his shoulders.

Some time later, there was the creak of another door. Gared stiffened, looking about for a place to hide. Leesha pointed to one of the chairs. He was far too big to be covered completely, but with only the dim orange glow from the fireplace to see by, it might prove enough.

A faint light appeared a moment later, dashing that hope. Leesha barely managed to lie back down and close her eyes before it swept into the room.

Through slitted eyes, Leesha saw her mother looking into the common room. The lantern she held was mostly shuttered, and the light threw great shadows, giving Gared room enough to hide if she didn’t look too closely.

They needn’t have worried. After satisfying herself that Leesha was asleep, Elona opened the door to Steave’s room and disappeared inside.

Leesha stared after her for a long time. That Elona was being untrue was no great revelation, but until this very moment, Leesha had allowed herself the luxury of doubting that her mother could truly be so willing to throw away her vows.