Aubreigne

by Sandra R Neeley

  “Have you had your wolf long?” Brannaugh asked, watching the wolf watch him.

  “No,” Aubreigne said, not even looking at him as she sliced vegetables to toss into the skillet with a bit of bacon fat. “I heard him whining outside my door. When I went to see what the noise was, I found him injured. It was as though he was asking for help. I took care of him and he’s stayed with me.”

  Brannaugh regarded the wolf approvingly, and he smiled when the wolf looked toward him and gave a slight wag of his tail. “And you trust him?” Brannaugh asked.

  “I do. You saw the way he protected me. He doesn’t seem to have an issue with everyone, but he certainly does with Ata.”

  “Perhaps he’s here on behalf of another to watch over you,” Brannaugh suggested.

  “I can’t imagine who, but regardless… Rune has a home for as long as he wishes,” she said, bringing the platter of seared vegetables and just warmed through smoked meats to the table. “Don’t you, boy?” she asked Rune.

  Rune looked up at the mention of his name, wagging his tail happily for her.

  “Go ahead and serve yourself. I have to make his plate, then I’ll join you,” Aubreigne said to Brannaugh.

  While Aubreigne prepared food for her wolf, Brannaugh reached out a hand toward Rune. Rune took the few steps toward him and allowed Brannaugh to pet his shoulder.

  “You’ve certainly recovered well,” Brannaugh whispered to Rune.

  Rune simply gave a swish of his tail again, and turned to watch Aubreigne.

  Aubreigne sliced off a few more pieces of smoked boar meat and placed them in Rune’s bowl. She took some rice she had from the night before and tossed it quickly in the skillet with the drippings from the vegetables and meat she’d warmed, then poured that in Rune’s bowl as well. When she was done, she placed the bowl on the floor beside Rune’s water bowl, then went back into the kitchen for bread, two glasses and a pitcher of water.

  “Here we go,” she said, taking her seat and handing a glass to Brannaugh.

  Brannaugh sliced the bread she’d placed on the table, and together they sat and enjoyed their meal. They laughed and shared stories of their lives. Before the night ended, they’d forged quite the friendship.

  Brannaugh noticed Aubreigne yawning for what was not the first time. He rose from the table and gathered their dishes, then brought them over to her sink.

  When he turned on the water, Aubreigne stopped him. “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “Nonsense. You’ve welcomed me into your home, treated me with respect rather than fear, you’ve fed me, and shared an evening of laughter. The least I can do is clean the dishes from our meal,” Brannaugh answered as he used the bar of lye soap to clean the two plates, their forks and his glass, as she was still drinking out of hers.

  “Most men wouldn’t even conceive of washing dinner plates,” Aubreigne observed aloud.

  “I’m not most men,” he answered, finishing the small job and placing them in her dish rack to dry. Once done, he dried his hands on the dishtowel and refolded it neatly before walking over to her.

  Aubreigne stood as he approached. “Do most fear you?” she asked, genuinely surprised by his comment.

  “Some. It is difficult to see beyond the label I think,” Brannaugh said.

  “What label?” Aubreigne asked.

  “Dark fey. Because I am dark fey, doesn’t mean that everything I do is dark. I think some believe that all I do must be tainted with a bit of trickery,” Brannaugh mused.

  “That’s sad. I would never fear you because of what you are,” Aubreigne said.

  “Most women would,” Brannaugh said.

  Aubreigne smiled. “I’m not most women.”

  “No, you certainly are not,” Brannaugh said, performing a little bow. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I’ll not be far away if your friend returns.”

  “Thank you, Brannaugh,” Aubreigne answered, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

  “I wish you a sound night’s sleep.”

  “And I you,” she said, following him to her door.

  “I shall sleep enough,” he responded before he realized what he’d said.

  “Do you not sleep well?” Aubreigne asked, picking up on his comment.

  “Not as well as I once did,” Brannaugh admitted, looking around her small cottage before he stepped outside and turned to face her. “I find I miss the luxury of an enclosed home with a warm, soft bed.”

  Aubreigne knew that he lived on the outer edges of Whispers, enough to fall under the safety Whispers offered, but far enough away from the established community that he was unlikely to draw Enthrall’s ire. “Now that you’ve made yourself known — and been accepted I might add, perhaps you could choose a place to build your own small cottage,” she said, tactfully saying what she was thinking without actually saying it.

  Brannaugh smiled. “Perhaps I will,” he agreed. Then he bowed to her as though he was at royal court. “Goodnight, Aubreigne. I shall be listening for indication that you may be in need of my assistance.”

  “You do know I don’t need assistance, don’t you? I’m fully capable of taking care of myself,” Aubreigne said. “Some find me scarier than you.”

  Brannaugh smiled, knowing full well the details of her lineage. “I do. But allow me the honor of assisting anyway.”

  Aubreigne smiled. “Very well, goodnight, Brannaugh,” she said, offering him a last smile as she slowly closed her door. She took the rest of the food on the platter, only a small amount really, and scraped it into Rune’s bowl before washing it as well. Then she went into the bathroom to clean up before crawling into her bed. But as she stood there, watching the water flowing into the tub, she was lulled into taking a long, warm bath. With only her in the house now, there was no reason to skimp on the hot water — no one else to save it for. Aubreigne reached out and turned off the cool water, allowing mostly hot water from the sun-heated cistern on the roof to fill her tub. She stripped off her clothes and sank into her tub, leaning her head back and closing her eyes as she enjoyed one of the best things about not having to share a bathroom with your adult daughter — long, hot baths.

  Chapter 13

  Aubreigne drained the water from her tub and wrapped herself in a towel as she squeezed water from her hair. She opened the bathroom door to go to her bedroom and had to stop to pet Rune where he waited at the door, refusing to move until she gave him some affection. Once in her bedroom, she put on one of her favorite nightgowns, and did her best to towel dry her hair before finally braiding it. She went to Deaumanique’s room and gathered a few extra blankets before going back to her room and arranging them in a soft mound on the throw rug beside her bed for Rune, then she slipped into bed. She’d already stoked the fire before taking her bath and knew it should last for most of the night, so she shouldn’t have to get up during the night for anything. She sighed deeply as she turned onto her side and hugged her pillow as she snuggled into it, already closing her eyes and beginning to fall asleep. “Goodnight, Rune,” she said on a yawn.

  Rune sat and watched until his mistress was sleeping. Then he walked through every room of the cottage making his nightly inspection, before returning to Aubreigne’s bedroom and curling up on the blankets she’d arranged for him on the throw rug beside her bed for the night.

  The next morning Aubreigne squinted as she began to wake from a very heavy sleep. She rolled over onto her back and blocked the sun shining in her eyes as she tried to look around the room and get her bearings. She realized two things right away. She was alone, and the events that had kept her busy all night were only dreams.

  Aubreigne heard a whine and looked over the edge of her bed to find Rune still lying in his nest of blankets watching her, waiting for her to wake.

  “Good morning,” she said groggily.

  Rune sat up and whined again.

  “Do you need to go out? I must have been really tired last night. I can’t tell you the last time I slept so late!”
she said, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head.

  Rune stood and moved toward the bedroom door.

  “I’m coming,” she said, pushing the covers back and placing her feet on the floor. She reached for her slippers, and after sliding her feet into them, was following Rune to the front door to let him out. She moved over to the fireplace and got a fire started before going into the kitchen to start breakfast, and a teapot full of water for tea.

  As Aubreigne waited for the water to boil, and the grits she’d started to cook, she sat at her table and thought of the dreams that had plagued her all night. She clearly saw the face of The Dark One in her mind’s eye, and she could see him just as clearly as she had in her dreams. Her dreams were so strange. In one of them, she was running from The Dark One, hiding from him when she’d opened her mouth to sing her Siren’s song to control him, only there was no sound. Her mouth was open, her neck straining and her lips moving as though the beautifully hypnotic tones of her song would spill from her, yet there was only silence. The Dark One laughed and launched himself at her, which is why she spent much of that dream running and hiding. The second dream was even worse. In it, she could see The Dark One, and he was screaming for help, reaching for her from beneath several writhing bodies of those who sought to pleasure themselves with the use of his body. Though he begged them to leave him, and tried to fight them off, there was another, one who looked just like him, who laughed maniacally and reached for those who wanted to use his body, as they all ignored his protests as though they couldn’t be heard.

  Aubreigne hadn’t been able to help herself. Sound asleep herself she reached toward him and tried to pull him to safety, but to no avail. In the last moments of the dream when she’d thought she’d been successful, The Dark One had shoved her away, roaring his frustration at a deafening level as the image of him being devoured by those lying naked against his body faded from view. Her teapot began to whistle and she rose from her seat to tend to it.

  Aubreigne prepared her tea, and stirred her grits. Then she sliced off several slices of bacon from the large piece of smoked pork belly that she’d gotten from Carolena the day before. She dropped them into the sizzling skillet to cook, before taking her seat once again. Her thoughts returned to The Dark One. She didn’t understand it at all. He was her mate, that much she was pretty sure of. She was drawn to him like she’d never been drawn to any other. But as her mate, he should have been immune to her song. He wasn’t, though. Anytime she’d needed to control him, all she’d had to do was sing, raise her glorious voice and he’d fall under her spell, forced to do her bidding.

  And she didn’t understand his almost vehement hatred of her, while at the same time he snuck into her home to leave her sketches. She’d begun to receive gifts again as well. Left on her doorstep, sometimes as simple as roses, and camellias. Sometimes he’d left food — a lot of food, and others just pretty baubles. He’d even left large knives, and gold coins. Of course, she’d never seen him leave her the gifts she’d found on her doorstep, but she still felt fairly certain it was him.

  A whine from just outside her door snapped her attention from her own thoughts to the here and now. Aubreigne rose from her seat again and walked over to the door, opening it to allow Rune to enter. “Did you have a good run?” she asked, smiling down at the wolf as she stepped back to allow him to enter her home.

  Rune wagged his bushy tail and walked past her into the cottage.

  Aubreigne paused for a second at the door as she surveyed her front stoop to be sure there was nothing there. Satisfied that The Dark One hadn’t been there to leave any other gifts overnight, she closed the door and locked it before facing the wolf, who sat beside his bowl watching her. Aubreigne regarded him, her head canting just slightly as she considered him and his sudden appearance. “How exactly did you find me?” she asked him, wondering if The Dark One might have something to do with Rune’s presence in her home.

  Rune simply allowed his tongue to loll out of his mouth as he panted happily and sniffed the air for the scent of whatever it was she was cooking.

  “Hmpf,” Aubreigne said aloud, looking pointedly at Rune before setting her teacup on the table and turning off the flame beneath her pot of grits and skillet of bacon. Going to her icebox, she took out her pound of butter and mixed a goodly amount of it into her grits before adding a bit of salt and stirring it until the butter melted. Then she ladled the grits into two bowls, one for herself, and one for Rune, before adding strips of bacon to each. She placed the bowl for Rune on the floor beside his water bowl, and took a seat with her own.

  She watched him eating, and smiled at how at ease he was with her. “Doesn’t matter how you got here. All that matters is that you’re here.”

  Rune looked up from his bowl and licked his lips while he gave her a wag of his tail, before finishing his breakfast.

  “You’re a good boy,” she said, smiling at him, happy for the company.

  ~~~

  Amilanu woke in the stench of what could only be described as a gutter. He looked around himself and realized that his body had been dumped, left for dead. As the thought crossed his mind, that he may not be able to purge himself of all the illicit substances that poisoned his body this time, he urgently rolled to his knees, vomiting so forcefully it almost caused him to pass out again. Tears streamed down his face as he watched the contents of his stomach, tinged with his own blood, flood the putrid ground around him. His body had obviously been purging itself as he lay unconscious. He looked down at himself one last time as the tremors that had recently plagued him began to take over his body, and allowed himself to collapse to the ground.

  He cared not what he lay in, or whether he ever saw another sunrise. All he prayed for was to see her face one last time. He forced his burning, gritty eyes opened and spoke her name in a raspy voice. “Aubreigne.” He allowed his eyelids to shut out the world around him and fell into a semi-conscious state, unaware that he had just enough strength left to take his weakened body to her.

  Some time later, he opened his eyes to find himself in a totally unexpected, yet familiar place. Reaching for the sofa he’d recognize anywhere, he tried to pull himself up, but managed to only lean his upper body against it. Then he heard the door open, and slowly lifted his head. It took all he had to achieve it, but he managed to turn his head and look in the direction of the sound of the door. The wolf he’d saved was suddenly at his side, and Aubreigne stood perfectly still, shocked at the sight of him.

  “It’s you,” she whispered.

  “I think he’s killed me this time,” The Dark One whispered. “Forgive me,” he rushed out before his head dropped to his arm once more and his upper body slumped from leaning on her sofa to the floor.

  ~~~

  After a day spent cleaning — sweeping her floors, dusting, making her bed, and opening the windows to allow the fresh air into her home, Aubreigne gathered her clothes and linens and headed outside to wash them. She used an old washtub she kept behind the house to wash them in, and rinsed them in another before putting them through the wringer and hanging them on the line. This took quite a while to accomplish, and all the while Rune either napped nearby or chased insects in the grass.

  After getting her laundry finished, she moved on to her garden, checking her plants and picking those few vegetables that had ripened and not been picked by her the day before. She was busy pulling weeds from between her plants when a sharp whine from Rune had her looking in his direction.

  Rune got to his feet and hurried over to her cottage, whining and pawing at the back wall.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, having learned to trust the wolf’s instincts over the days he’d been with her.

  Rune cast a glance at her over his shoulder and trotted off around the corner of the cottage. He came back into view and yipped at her.

  “Fine, I’m coming,” she said, wiping her hands on the apron she always wore when working in the yard.

  Aubreigne followed h
im to the front of the house, fully expecting to find Ata’halne waiting for her, but instead there was no one. No one except Rune pawing at her front door and whining as though she was inside and he was outside.

  Puzzled, Aubreigne went to her front door and opened it, standing back to show him that there was nothing inside. “What do you want?” she asked Rune.

  Rune darted into the cottage without hesitation.

  Aubreigne stepped through the door, her eyes searching for Rune, then came to a stop mid-step when her eyes finally showed her what Rune had been trying to tell her.

  There was a male on the floor of her cottage, leaning heavily on her sofa, while he struggled to breathe.

  Rune was doing his best to soothe the male, and obviously wasn’t the least bit alarmed by him, so she assumed the male wasn’t dangerous.

  “Are you well?!” she finally rushed out once the surprise had left her, as she hurried toward him.

  The male raised his head with great effort and met her gaze as she hurried toward him. Again, Aubreigne’s steps came to a halt as recognition hit her. “It’s you,” she whispered. “Get out! Now!”

  “Nephesh!” he rushed out at seeing her.

  Aubreigne stuttered in her attempt to order him out. She knew what ‘nephesh’ was. It was a very old Aramaic word she’d not thought of in a very long time.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she settled for, still mulling over him calling her nephesh.

  “I’m sorry, Aubreigne. I only wished to see you once more. I think he’s killed me this time,” The Dark One whispered. “Forgive me,” he begged, before his head dropped to his arm once more and his upper body slumped from leaning on her sofa to the floor.

  “Oh my gods,” Aubreigne shouted as she closed the distance between them. Aubreigne dropped to her knees beside him, doing all she could to turn him over and situate him more comfortably on the floor. There was no chance of her lifting him to the sofa; he was a large male and she was quite small. She looked down at the male. He was much thinner than she remembered him being, and he was filthy. The odor that rose from his body told of many sinful nights. She pressed her hand to his forehead and then to his neck, feeling for a pulse, then a fever. Sure enough, his skin felt like the flames of hell.