by Autumn Dawn
* * * *
By the time she sat down to a simple dinner of stew and flatbread with Matilda and Raziel, she was almost too tired to eat. Matilda wasn't much better. They'd put in a hard day cleaning up the worst of the citadel, making it livable if not cozy. New bedding covered the two mattresses they'd been able to scrounge up, with more promised for delivery over the next several days. Jell candles lit the table, since the lighting system still wasn't repaired. Even the table was only a make-shift affair, nothing more than a couple of wide planks propped on boxes. More crates served as seats.
Mathin still hadn't come home.
It wasn't very good, but Andrea finished her stew anyway, too hungry to worry about it. With luck she could find someone with a little more talent to cook tomorrow. Unfortunately she had far too much to do to even think about doing it herself. The best she could likely do was a quick tour of the kitchens before she had to see to the gardens. Now that the cellars and pantries had also been cleaned out they'd need to be restocked.
Andrea closed her eyes and rubbed them with the heels of her palms. “How would you like to be chatelaine, Grandma?"
Matilda raised a brow, smiled slightly. “Would I be doing less work than I already am?” She fed Lionheart, who sat in her lap, another tidbit. “I'm sure it will be easier as soon as we get this mess under control. Just think of it as housekeeping on a grander scale."
Andrea groaned. “My dream come true. Housekeeping. Hah! I feel like I'm running the Windsor Hotel."
"You're just tired,” Matilda said with sympathy. “Go on up to bed. I'm sure Mathin will be home soon. Wait for him someplace comfortable."
Good advice. Collecting Lionheart, Andrea mumbled a good night and trudged up the stairs.
The room she'd chosen was the largest available, easily big enough to accommodate a massive bed and a couch, presently stripped of cushions. Steps led up to the high frame, and she dearly hoped she wouldn't tumble out. The curtains on the deep, wide windows leading to the balcony she left open, unwilling to let Mathin stumble in the dark when he came in.
With a groan of satisfaction she climbed under the covers, snuggled Lionheart to her tummy, and shut her eyes.
Sleep didn't come right away. In spite of her exhaustion the strangeness of her surroundings pulled at her. It would have been much easier had Mathin been there. The knowledge troubled her. When had he become home?
The silence cocooned her, shut out distractions. Memories tumbled in her mind, then sorted into a logical progression as she examined them. Yes, there it was. Why hadn't she seen that even when she'd been angry with Mathin for tricking her into the Darklands, she'd looked to him for comfort? Even Matilda hadn't made her feel that way, so it ruled out mere familiarity, though it had to be a part of it. He'd been in control of the situation, protective of her from the first. No one, not even her mother, had ever done more.
He was a very special man, and he'd married her. Sworn he wanted no other. Tears pricked her eyes. Maybe it was time she grew up and stopped holding out.
She loved him back, had probably from the first, and all along she'd been afraid to admit it. At first it was fear that he wouldn't care in return. Later it was wariness of what she was getting him into. After that ... she was ashamed to discover it had been a need to control keeping her silent. If she didn't say it, it was almost as if the entire situation wouldn't be quite real, and she could keep something back, protect her heart. She snorted at her logic. The Darklands and the Haunt were no dream. How much more real could she get?
A smile curved her lips. Knowing Mathin, he'd toss her over his shoulder and drag her back “home” if she ever tried to leave him. He wasn't the type to suffer in silence and bemoan his fate. No, he'd hunt her down and make love to her until she couldn't see straight for ecstasy, then make her promise never to run away again. Just the thought made her want to—
The door creaked open. She sat up. “Mathin?"
"It had better be.” He sounded tired and out of sorts.
Andrea relaxed. “You must be exhausted. Can I get you anything?"
He sighed and crossed to the window, shut the drapes. “A clean bed and a good night's sleep.” Rustling sounds came as he undressed.
"Hard day?"
"Good hunting, but we had to go to the edge of the swamps to find it. The lands have been badly over-harvested. It's going to take time to rebuild the wild stock. The meat we brought back is in the cellars, hanging. Tomorrow, we'll process it."
"Glad we got them cleaned for you, then."
"Thank you.” He got into bed and took her in his arms. He stiffened as his hand touched Lionheart. “What is it doing in the bed?"
Annoyed, she frowned at him, well aware he couldn't see her in the dark. “He's just a baby. Where else would I put him?"
His fingertip smoothed the lines between her eyes, surprising her. “Your little pet will one day weigh as much as I do. Are you certain you wish him to sleep on the bed?"
Grumbling, she tossed the covers off, felt around in the dark with her foot for her discarded clothes, and gently placed Lionheart on them. She gave him one last pat, turned, and slammed her toe into the bed steps. “Ouch!"
"Would you like me to open the curtains to let the light in?” he asked in sympathy.
"No, but I'd like a pair of night vision goggles for Christmas,” she snapped. Living with a Haunt was proving hazardous to her health.
This time she got into bed without mishap.
"Goodnight, wildflower.” He snuggled her close.
"'Night, hon."
"Hon?"
She yawned. “Ask me tomorrow,” she mumbled, and quickly fell asleep.
* * * *
An unholy racket woke them in the morning.
"I said get out!"
Mathin leapt out of bed, grabbed his sword, and opened the door wide just in time to see Raziel thrust outside the door of the room directly opposite. Buck naked, he held his clothes in his arms, his muscular backside to Mathin as he argued with Matilda.
"I was only there to sleep, woman,” he groused irritably, tossing his mussed dark hair back. “Had I wanted anything else you would have known it."
Matilda, red hair equally disheveled, but attired in a flowered nightgown, stood in the doorway and glared at him. “Decent men don't crawl naked into my bed when I'm sound asleep!"
Raziel inclined his head. “What about indecent men?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice.
She slammed the door in his face.
Raziel turned and grinned at Mathin. He shrugged. “We had no other beds here. What could a man do?"
"What's going—eek!” Andrea ducked back under Mathin's arm and hid her flaming face in her palms. “Don't you guys have any modesty?"
Mathin shook with silent laughter. “Are all humans this prudish?"
"Prudish!"
"Sensitive, then,” he amended. He closed the door.
She scowled at him. “Aren't you going to say anything to him? Matilda has a right to be mad. Raziel can't just go crawling into any bed—"
"He didn't. He chose Matilda's."
As if that explained his attitude! “Why is that okay?” she demanded, annoyed on Matilda's behalf. “Is this a guy thing or a Haunt aberration?"
He snatched her up in his arms and tossed her on the bed, then pounced on top of her. “Maybe I should explain it.” He nipped her ear.
It was a very long and thorough lesson.
When they finally made it downstairs for breakfast, Raziel was in high spirits.
Matilda was as grumpy as a bear.
Feeling rather chipper herself, Andrea decided to test Mathin's theory. She waited until they had a quiet moment alone in the garden before saying casually, “You must have gotten quite an eyeful this morning."
Matilda paused in her weeding to give Andrea a dirty look. “It's not funny. I woke up to find myself completely tangled with the dratted man.” Color stained her cheeks, as well as a certain degree of guilt.<
br />
Andrea was willing to bet it hadn't been a completely unpleasant experience. Not with that look in her eye. Just to be sure, she prodded, “He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"Of course not!” Matilda exclaimed indignantly. “He never would. It was just so presumptuous of him, and so very.... “She waved her gloved hand in the air. “Outrageous."
"Has he kissed you?"
"Andrea!"
Undaunted, Andrea shrugged. “What do you expect after the way you threw me after Mathin?"
"That was different."
"Uh huh. So has he?"
Matilda looked sheepish. “I haven't let him."
Andrea shook her head and plucked another weed. “Might want to rethink that one, Grandma."
Examining the dirt in the bed they were clearing, she asked, “Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"
Astonished, Andrea stared at her. “Mind? Why would I mind?"
Matilda shrugged.
"Grandma.... “She floundered for words. “I want you to be happy. If Raziel can make you that way, I say go for it."
"I don't know...."
"Besides, if you don't grab him someone else will."
Her advice seemed to fall on fertile soil. It was later that very morning when Andrea passed a seldom used hallway that she heard giggling. Thinking it might be kids, she went to investigate. Just before rounding the curved wall, she stopped in her tracks. She knew that voice.
"Ohh ... Raz,” her grandmother's breathy moan sounded. Another giggle.
Too stunned to move, Andrea stood as if petrified to the spot.
"Ohh, oh yes! Please!"
Swallowing hard, Andrea quietly hit reverse.
"You like that?” Raziel's voice was full of male satisfaction. Slightly breathless.
"Your fingers! Yes, please."
Caution be danged! Faster than a speeding bullet, Andrea cleared the hall.
"What's your hurry?” Mathin asked, about to enter the same hall.
She grabbed his arm. “Don't go in there!"
Puzzled, he cocked his head. His gaze shifted as if he were hearing something. A broad smile broke over his face. “Hm."
"Don't you say it,” she said through gritted teeth as she took his hand and drug him away.
"It's possible he could just be giving her a massage,” he suggested, trying, and failing, to maintain an innocent expression. He grinned.
"Hah!"
Oddly enough, when next they saw the pair, neither looked happy.
"Please pass the salt,” Matilda asked Andrea at dinner. They were still using the makeshift table.
Raziel reached in front of Andrea and plucked up the salt server, making a show of giving it to Matilda. “Anything else you desire, sweet?"
"Nothing you've got,” she shot back, snatching the server. She plunked it down and vigorously salted what Andrea knew to be tough meat. They still hadn't found a decent cook.
Wishing to change the subject, Andrea sawed at her steak and observed, “Lovely weather we're having. How long before the storms come, do you think, Mathin?"
"Hard to tell about storms.” Raziel answered, looking over his cup at Matilda. “The weather sweeps from fair to foul here with dizzying speed."
Matilda glared at him. “Perhaps you shouldn't make unreasonable demands on it. Besides, from what I've seen you Haunt can't make up your minds what you want."
Raziel's eyes flashed. “I told you the woman accosted me, not—” He broke off and looked at the very interested Mathin and Andrea, who seemed to be fascinated with her tasteless meal. “We will discuss the weather later."
"We will not.” Matilda gripped her fork, her jaw set.
"Later.” Nostrils still flared, Raziel all but snapped at Mathin, “So what do you intend to do about your cousin?"
Mathin frowned. “You know I've sent messengers to the lands around us. Should my cousin be so foolish as to show his face here, I will deal with him. I do not think he has the metal to do so."
"Perhaps.” Raziel stabbed at his meat. “The scouts are in place. You would know within the hour if he stepped foot on your land."
"What of your lands?” Mathin raised a brow and rested his forearms on the table. “You show great concern for my situation, and I thank you, but your estate is nearly as extensive as mine."
"I've sent men to look it over.” Raziel's face shuttered. “My overseer is more capable than Tomlin ever thought to be. All remains under control."
Mathin shrugged. “It's your choice.” His careless tone didn't match his expression.
Raziel looked at him suspiciously. “Since when did you care what became of my lands or any other? Jayems practically had to order you here."
An ironic smile lifted a corner of Mathin's mouth. “True. Maybe I just don't like to see anyone else so enjoy their freedom now that I've lost mine."
Andrea frowned at him.
"Not you, my love.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Never you."
She smiled softly and rubbed her head against his shoulder. Just a word from him could make her feel so good. She hoped his cousin would never come.
* * * *
She wasn't feeling well.
They'd only been at the citadel a couple of days when she began to feel tired, almost drained. Mathin was very busy and Matilda was still in a snit, so it was easy to hide it at first. Andrea took care to eat right, but it wasn't helping, not as it should. No matter how much she slept she still felt tired and listless. Finally the morning came when she surrendered to the inevitable and summoned the local medic.
His prognosis was grim. “You're pregnant."
She gaped at him. The examination had taken place in her room, since she felt too tired to even walk to the village, and they were along. Right then she wished it wasn't so. “P-pregnant?"
He gave his head a short, affirmative jerk and put away his things. “It is not going well."
Irritated with his abrupt manner, she snapped, “Is that all you can say? Is there something I can do?"
At touch of pity on his face, he nodded. “Prepare to lose the child. Human women always lose Haunt children."
Andrea paled. “Jasmine—"
"Was a fluke. She was healthy and had a full symbiont. You have half. You are weak.” His expression softened and his tone gentled. “Tell your husband. Rumors say he is not like his father. He will care."
Shocked that he would say such a thing, she demanded, “What do you mean?"
He shook his head. “Call me when the bleeding starts. I'll have my equipment ready."
She lay there after he'd left, staring at the ceiling. The details wavered in front of her damp eyes. The medic was wrong! She wouldn't lose this child.
Mathin's baby.
It seemed like only moments passed before Mathin burst in the door, his face pale and frightened. “Andrea!” He rushed to her side and took her in his arms. “Why? Why didn't you tell me?"
Instead of answering, she burst into tears.
* * * *
"You are crazy!” Raziel hissed, grabbing Mathin by the shoulder. He spun him around. Their faces only inches apart, he ground out, “The storms are coming, Mathin. Think! I know you're desperate, but—"
Mathin jerked away and readied his gear. Bloodlight had already been saddled. “You're in charge until we get back."
"If you get back."
Mathin rounded on him. “It's the only chance we have, Raziel! Would you have me stay here and lose the baby?"
"It could happen anyway.” Raziel was brutally honest. “You don't know that the Ronin will even help you."
"They will."
Frustrated by Mathin's refusal to consider the cost, Raziel got in front of him. “What should I tell your people?"
Mathin looked him in the eye. “Tell them that I love my wife more than my life. Tell them that I will come back, and that my wife will have a healthy son."
Shaken by the resolution in his eyes, Raziel let Mathin pass. Eyes downcast, he considered
what he would need to hear if it were Matilda and his child who were ill. “Mathin?"
He turned around.
"My prayers will follow you."
For the first time since Mathin had heard about the baby, he smiled.
* * * *
Andrea didn't remember much about the journey. Cold rain, impressions of big trees and the sensation of riding were all she knew. Mathin pressed food on her she didn't want, fussed and sometimes shouted at her until she ate almost all of it just to ease his mind. Thunder often split the sky, and strong winds often made travel hazardous. When the bad storms struck he would take them to what shelter he could. Sometimes there was none to be had and they made camp where they could. At such times she could hear Mathin praying.
His wife might have been too foggy to suffer much from their travels, but Mathin was not so lucky. He lived in constant fear that fierce winds would topple a tree or send a flying limb in Andrea, killing her. Almost as important was keeping himself in one piece. She wouldn't survive without him.
He'd never cared so much for his own well being.
Six days into their journey he picked up signs of the Ronin.
"Mathin?” Andrea lifted her pale face and peered at him through the mists.
Blasted swamps! If it wasn't raining on them it was foggy. “I'm here.” He moved to where she sat slumped on Bloodlight and touched her legs. “I found traces of the Ronin, my love.” He smiled for her. “Soon you'll get to meet them."
"Good.” A ghost of her old grin tried to surface. “Tell them I said they need to be more welcoming for guests."
"You tell them.” He mounted behind her and got Bloodlight moving. “You'll be seeing them yourself, soon."
"Yeah.” Her voice was barely audible.
He wrapped his arms around her and moved faster.
* * * *
Mathin had felt the eyes on them for a good hour by the time he stopped that night. All but unconscious, Andrea lolled in his arms as he dismounted and gently lifted her down. Careful not to jar her, he lay her down on a tarp he'd tossed down on a patch of high ground and covered her with a blanket. “It's going to be all right,” he whispered, and kissed her. He stroked her cheek and stood up.
