Her mind retreated and he withdrew, but she spoke in a rush of words.
“It’s not Elaine’s fault Xadrak slayed Loic. It’s mine. I killed Henri, even after Elaine told me not to. I’m sorry, Hame.”
He stilled, frozen and lifeless as a lake in the dead of winter. He should have been angry with her, and no doubt there was some of that buried below. He blamed Elaine enough for Loic’s death, but after hearing how Aurelia had suffered because of Henri, he didn’t have it in him to blame her too. If he were Aurelia, he would have gutted Henri long ago.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said as the ice thawed.
Her eyes shot up, light glistening on their surface. He gave her a small smile and nuzzled his mind against hers. The conversation gradually began again, the silence too uncomfortable to maintain, and he found he liked hearing her talk just as much as he enjoyed having her listen. They traded stories as the night grew old and he told her of how he’d traveled from the Highlands to Normandy as a twelve-year-old boy in pursuit of a vision. It felt good to talk about Loic, remembering the life the man had given him, the love they’d shared. But when she asked him about his training, he rebuffed her.
“I’ll tell you another time.” He faked a yawn. “We should get some sleep.”
“Oh, yes, you’re right. Lots to do tomorrow.” She stood and made her way to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to be alone in the hut with memories of Loic. “Stay. You can take my bed.”
“Are you sure?” She twisted strands of her hair.
“Of course. I’m sure it’s not as pleasing as what Elaine has given you, but it’s good enough.”
“All right. Thank you.” She gave him a shaky smile, and he realized what a dolt he was. She was nervous about getting undressed in front of him.
“I’ll face this way while you get into bed, and you let me know when you’re ready and I’ll put out the light. I’m used to undressing in the dark.”
He thought he saw her cheeks blush, but she turned her head and disappeared behind him. He heard the rustle of her dress, then the shake of the blanket and the creak of the cot. “I’m ready.”
He turned and looked straight into her green eyes, the blanket pulled up to her neck, her arm exposed over the top of it revealing her smooth olive skin. Having her here felt right. He smiled and went over to the candles, extinguishing them one by one. He undressed and got into bed, and despite the trials of the day, or perhaps because of them, he soon drifted off to sleep and slept better than he had in a long time.
When Aurelia woke, the first thing she saw was Hame’s empty bed. She’d eventually fallen asleep after staring into the darkness, hoping to make out some shape of him. She drifted off listening to the gentle sound of his breathing. Now the bed was bare, the blanket rumpled. He wasn’t in the hut either. She got out of bed, dressed, and went to the table, where the scrying bowl sat half full.
She searched for him, wanting to catch a glimpse of him unawares, at ease, simply to stare at him a moment without him knowing. She knew she was spying. It was wrong and unfair, but she had to see him. The surface of the water revealed him bathing in the river.
Water ran from his soaked hair down his shoulders and his chest. He had a body made for adoration, but there was more to it than just his physique. It was everything that came along with it, the physical and the emotional. The ease with which they had communicated mentally only strengthened their bond, and the consolation they gave each other was deep, heartfelt, and pure.
Hame disappeared beneath the murky water and his form wavered as he swam. His streaming hair, back, ass, his legs, all maddeningly distorted. He breached, standing waist-deep in the river, and squeezed the water out of his hair, causing the droplets to cascade down his chest, his stomach. But as he stepped up the bank, revealing more of his skin and his fat cock nestled in the fiery bush of his crotch, she turned away.
This is wrong.
She wanted to see him but not like this. Not without his consent. She blinked and the vision ended. She waited a while to ensure her guilt was in check before approaching him telepathically. He responded, greeted her, and said he was on his way back from bathing.
When he entered, she had figured out what they were going to do next.
“We’re going to go to the nearest village,” she said after he came through the door fully dressed. His damp hair still shimmered the color of blood.
“Why? I thought you wanted me to scry.”
“I’m hoping that by meeting a few normal people, perhaps attuning to their essence, you might be able to scry for them.”
“Can’t I just look for you? For Elaine?”
“It hasn’t worked so far. I think we’re too much a part of the magical world. Maybe you need to interact with some everyday people for a while.”
“I don’t want to go to the village.”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t been there since before Loic died.”
“And they knew him?”
He nodded. “Some of them came here. Not many, but enough. They know who I am, too. They’ll ask about him; they always do.”
“You’ll have to tell them.”
“And when they ask for prophecies, what then?”
“Do what the fortune tellers do. Make it up.”
His eyebrows shot up. “I’m not going to lie.”
“What difference does it make?”
“A big difference if I tell them one thing and something else happens instead. I’m likely to find them at my door with scythes and a noose.”
She chuckled. “If they haven’t come for you by now, they’re not going to.”
He screwed up his face, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. She took them in one direction, not knowing where she was going, until finally he broke his silence and, with a huff, pulled her another way.
Carrouges was a few miles away. She hadn’t been there before so couldn’t use her magic to jump them from the hut to the village. She was glad of it. What with still being new to this skill, she didn’t want Hame to see her fumble. Instead, she cast a spell that made their strides devour the distance. The sun had barely reached its zenith by the time they arrived.
Perhaps because he was there so rarely, he drew the villagers’ attention more readily. His size, the brilliance of his hair, and his unusual accent made him an object of interest. People gawped. He hated it. Over the years, he’d perfected an expression that warned most away without causing the men in the village to take issue with his unfriendliness. Not that many of the men he met were eager to start something with a barbarian like him. Thankfully, the forest provided plenty of what they needed, and the seekers brought some additional items—food and clothes mainly—so venturing into the village was an infrequent chore.
Stepping into the village with Aurelia by his side was sure to be something they talked about for the next decade. She was not exactly dressed like a peasant, her green embroidered dress likely to rival anything worn by the nobility. When he whispered as such, she looked at herself and groaned. He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders. It felt good to know she’d be as uneasy as he was.
“Where would you like to go first?” he asked.
“Somewhere dark. The sooner I hide this dress the better. Is there a tavern?”
“Probably, but we’ve already been spotted.” He nodded up the street where the baker’s wife was hurrying over to talk to him. He’d caught the wide-eyed surprise on her face before she controlled herself and replaced it with the sour expression he was more used to.
“It is good to see you, Rosemarie,” he said.
“Mmm. You too, ’Ame,” she replied, dropping the unfamiliar H sound. Her eyes roved up and down Aurelia. Her nose wrinkled. “And how is Loic?”
He’d known this would be something he’d have to answer, but he couldn’t have prepared for how it kicked him in the balls. “I’m afraid Loic
passed away the other day.”
Rosemarie crossed herself. “Such sad news. How did it happen?”
“It was quite sudden,” Aurelia interjected. “He died peacefully in his sleep.”
“The Lord takes us when he sees fit, I suppose.” Rosemarie ignored Aurelia completely. “And do you follow in his…trade?”
He would have loved to tell this woman that he didn’t, especially with how quickly she’d moved on from hearing the sad news. Having to scry into her future had been dull for Loic, and it was likely to be the same for him, too. But Loic had done it anyway. Now it was Hame’s duty to provide guidance and support, whether the future was discernible or not.
And like Aurelia had suggested, he could always make it up.
“Yes. Though I need a little time.”
“Of course.” Her bony hand squeezed his arm before she nodded goodbye to him and went on her way.
“I should have set her hair on fire,” Aurelia said once she was out of earshot.
He laughed. “Rosemarie isn’t the nicest of people. But we’ll get one good thing out of seeing her.”
“And what’s that?”
“She’ll have told the whole village that Loic is dead within the hour.”
They entered the tavern, which was less than half full. He hadn’t been in there before, never having wanted to tarry any longer than he needed to in the village. The place was dark enough that Aurelia found a corner to hide in where she altered her dress to reduce its brilliance.
“You can’t sit with your back to the room,” she said as he took the bench opposite her.
“I’m shielding you from the other patrons. A beautiful woman needs to be protected.”
She shook her head. “Stop trying to get out of it and sit next to me. There are plenty of people here for you to see and with any luck they’ll help you learn to scry.”
He groaned but did as she said and rose off the bench.
“What can I get you?” a man said behind him.
Hame turned to look into hazel eyes and a boyish grin. His short hair was the color of acorns and for all the gloom in the place, he could see this man as brightly as a meadow on a clear day.
“Uhhh,” he replied.
The taverner’s brow twitched in the middle, reminding him of a rabbit scrunching its nose.
Hame gave a short breathy grunt that was almost a laugh. “Yes, sorry. An ale and a mead and whatever is good to eat, please.”
“Sure,” the man said, giving him a wink that delighted and confused him in a way Hame couldn’t understand.
Remembering what he’d been doing before the man came along, he turned back to Aurelia and moved around to her side of the table. She studied the other people in the tavern, while he searched for the man who unsettled him in such a sublime way.
Eventually, the taverner returned carrying two cups and two plates of food. He barely looked at Aurelia, a quick glance as he placed the meal in front of her, but he gave him the full force of his attention.
“I haven’t seen you two before,” he said. “What brings you to Carrouges?”
Aurelia watched him like an owl tracking a mouse.
“We’re here for supplies. I live in the forest,” he said, not sure why he didn’t say they both lived there, but certain it was important to make that distinction.
“Ahhh, very nice,” the taverner said, his cheeks becoming even fuller.
Aurelia cleared her throat, and he began to retreat after giving her an uneasy glance.
“Well, I hope you visit again.”
Hame didn’t want him to leave, but Aurelia’s mood pricked him, and he decided it would be safer to let the taverner go. He needed time to think what this meant, and he couldn’t do that with the stranger standing so close.
What he did know, however, was how much he liked it.
XV
Despite Aurelia’s prompting, Hame struggled to pay much attention to anyone in the tavern except for that man. All too soon, she bid them rise and depart. He dragged his feet, which turned to anvils when the taverner gave him a honeyed smile. He swallowed, trying to wet his parched mouth.
Aurelia pulled him away and out of the village, then flung them through the ether to the hut. Unprepared for the crossing’s jarring, when they landed, he doubled over and retched.
“You could have warned me,” he said after he stopped heaving.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly and went inside.
He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. He followed her in, but when he spoke her name, she fixed him with a stare that jammed the rest of the words in his throat. He decided to wait until she was in a better mood.
“It’s time to get back to work,” she said flatly.
The scrying bowl was set, and she looked down at it. He didn’t fancy further disappointment, but she insisted.
“You’ve been to the village; you now have plenty of people to scry for. Do your best. I’m sure you could—” She’d been about to say more, her tone suddenly off-kilter. After a pause, she continued. “You should start.” She hurried from the hut before he could argue.
He raked his fingers through his hair. He was on the verge of discovering so much about himself, something that had the ring of the forbidden about it, but Aurelia’s demeanor had him all twisted. His mind reached out to hers, but she closed herself tight. She’d come around, and when she did, he’d ask what had upset her.
He stared into the bowl, remembering how spectacularly he’d failed yesterday.
But yesterday he hadn’t been to the tavern.
He punched breath out of his lungs. He yearned to see the taverner; that face, that chest, that labor-hardened body stripped bare. His cock twitched at the mere thought of it, and he cupped himself until his shaft hardened. He’d pleasured himself plenty of times before, but the memory of acorn hair and hazel eyes added something. He chewed his bottom lip and massaged himself.
No.
Aurelia was just outside, and he had to scry. He’d deal with himself later.
But when he looked into the bowl, nothing changed. All he saw was the wood grain at the bottom. Like many of the objects in the hut, he’d carved it himself. He remembered the fire in his back as he swung the axe and felled the tree, then the careful carving of the wood. He loved working with his hands and the bounty of the forest.
An idea sparked in his head and tingled up and down his spine.
Perhaps…
He closed his eyes and imagined he was a tree. His roots plunged into the earth to drink its nutrients. His trunk stood thick and strong, pushing him into the soil while supporting a great crown of branches and leaves that waved at the sun. He connected the earth with the sky, and the powers of each coursed through him. He strengthened the visualization until his mind clicked, the sound so loud it shook him. He grinned.
He’d found it.
He leaned forward with eyes open, grappling with the rising joy within. He was a proud and grand oak that had stood for a thousand years. Lightning ricocheted down his body from tip to toe, awakening that which had long lain dormant. He nearly crowed from the ecstasy of it, but not wanting to lose this feeling—even though he was now certain he could reach it again—he turned to scrying.
And to the taverner.
No sooner had he looked through the water did the man appear, as real as if he stood here in front of him.
Hame fell back on the chair, his belly jumping with laughter. Aurelia came running, and he leapt from his chair and hugged her.
“I did it!”
She struggled against his chest. “I can’t breathe!”
He released her, giving her his best I’m-sorry-but-please-forgive-me smile. She scowled at him, which only made his cheeks strain more.
“Fool.” She rolled her eyes, then gave into the happiness that had been muscling its way onto her face. She fell into his arms, and he nuzzled his chin against her head, happy she’d been there for that moment. She’d known what he was going throu
gh and she’d kept pushing him until he’d achieved it. The next step was to divine, but he was confident it would only be a matter of time before that came too.
Hame spent most of the evening scrying, the skill becoming easier as time went on. The visualization of the oak became less necessary but stood at the back of his mind. Aurelia summoned a feast to celebrate and they gorged. They talked of happier times and it felt good to laugh, even better to do so with her.
Eventually they sought their beds, but while Aurelia’s breathing soon slowed, sleep evaded him. Having learned to scry, he wanted to push on to experience things he had never considered or that had always been out of reach. Once he unlocked his ability to divine, the future would unfold for him to see—death and pain, a hunt for a demonic spirit and the possibility of madness. Loic’s twisted and tortured face rose in his mind, but it quickly morphed into his own.
He didn’t want to dwell; he wanted to feel good for a while longer.
He slipped out of bed, picked up his clothes, and crept from the hut. Outside, he dressed quickly then ran through the forest. He slowed to a jog when his lungs burned, but once the ache dissipated, he exerted himself again. Dripping with sweat and huffing like a well-ridden horse, he ran for what felt like hours. His legs started to tire, but just when he thought they’d buckle beneath him, he reached the edge of the forest and sighted his goal.
Carrouges looked different at night. A few lanterns dotted the street, but it was a gloomy place when the people were in their beds. He walked towards the tavern, hoping no one would come out and recognize him until he got to its door.
Light eked out through the murky window, and murmuring voices wormed out from behind the closed door. He reached for the handle but hesitated as fear pricked in his blood.
This is a mistake.
He wasn't meant for villages; wasn’t meant for people. He belonged in the forest, alone, safe—or as safe as he could be. The handle rattled and he turned to run. A slurred voice limped after him then he was struck from behind and pitched forward into the dirt. The dead weight of an unconscious man flattened him.
Burning Blood: Bonds of Blood: Book 2 Page 8
