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Warrior's Heart Chapter 2

2


When asked to create potions for matters of the heart, temple healers often say, “Love cannot be forced to grow where it isn’t nourished, nor cannot it be denied where it has taken root.”



Ayleth woke before midday, choosing to roll around in the loft until she tired of the itchy hay. Two freshly knotted braids hung to her waist and an old apron covered her dress. Pushing the door open, she led hungry goats out to the yard.

Chores more fun when done faster, Ayleth tipped out the seed bag and gazed up at the sky, counting the hours until she could call on Aarin. Kids frolicked in the sun, hens clucked, pecking at grain she scattered for them. It wasn’t going to rain.

After picking through the garden, finding squash and tomatoes hidden on overgrown vines, Ayleth entered the house to drop her bounty on the counter.

“Ayleth?” a voice called.

“Yes,” she responded, cringing. She hoped to avoid Mairi. “I came in to bring the vegetables from the garden. I’ll be only a moment. I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“Come and help me, I’ve been yelling for hours!”

Ayleth dropped what she was doing and hurried to the bedroom. Her stepmother lay on the floor next to the bed—face flushed and vomit on the floor and blankets.

Ayleth grabbed Mairi’s arm and helped to lift her. “You’re burning up with fever.”

“Help me to the commode. I’m so weak I can’t hardly walk.”

Leaving Mairi to her privacy, Ayleth put a kettle on the stove and threw the soiled linens out the door into the yard. She sought the loft above the common room and took the quilt off her own bed, still made up and waiting for her.

After spreading the quilt on Mairi’s bed, Ayleth fetched her from the commode and sat her on a stool in the wooden bathtub, the bowl of hot water and a sponge in hand. “Would you like me to find a fresh dress or shall I help you into your robe?”

“Anything touching me feels like pin pricks.” She winced. “The robe.”

Ayleth washed Mairi and helped her back into bed, where she could sleep a fevered slumber in her own company. The laundry took an hour and once the line was heavy with Mairi’s clean bedding, Ayleth peeked in the bedroom door to find her stepmother still fast asleep. She crept from the house.

Hawksrill’s dirt paths stretched down through a market square and up to a cobblestoned road leading to the baron’s estate. Ayleth had seen the nobles a few times, mostly for festivals. Sometimes the sons and daughter brought gifts of food or clothing to the poor. They left offerings on a plinth in the market, opposite the moneychangers’ office. A careless reminder for the down-and-out.

As she walked, a ramshackle one-room house came into view—Aarin on the roof, hammering shingles. Over the pounding, Ayleth called up, announcing her presence. “Why are you on the roof in the hottest part of the day?”

He glanced up from his task and answered, “It’s going to storm tonight. I don’t got money to hire a carpenter, so I’m doing my best to keep us dry.”

“I’m coming up.”

He peered over the edge, smiling. “No, wait there. I’ll be down.” He finished a few more nails and scrambled over the peak of the roof, disappearing from sight. When he came around from the back of the house, he carried a stoneware jug. “It’s damn hot up there.” He pulled his shirt off. After drinking deep, he tipped the remaining water over his hair and dropped the jug. He shook his head like a dog, spraying water all about.

Ayleth squealed and shielded herself with her arms.

He dried his face and chest with his shirt. “I’ll be right back,” Aarin said, tossing the disgusting rag her direction.

Unfortunately, Ayleth’s reactions were quick and she caught his shirt, holding it at arm’s length with one hand while the other pinched her nose shut. “What were you, raised by wolves?” she called to him. “It certainly would explain a thing or two.”

“Yeah?” he asked, from only a few feet away—where he’d just finished relieving himself in the middle of the yard. “But, there aren’t any wolves in Vaardnell.” He buttoned his trousers and stretched, rubbing his right shoulder.

“Even so, no one wants to see that. Any respectable person would have had the decency to turn around at least.”

He shrugged, loosening weary muscles. “Can I have my shirt back?

She handed it to him and sniffed. “You aren’t going to put that nasty thing back on, are you?”

“It’s the only thing standing between my skin and the sun.”

“But it reeks!”

He stared at her a moment before saying, “Begging your pardon, miss, but while you were feeding hens in your tidy apron, I fixed a coop, milked cows, mucked stalls, and patched a roof. It ain’t bath time and I still got work to do.”

“You’re such an ass, Aarin,” she spat, not at all impressed with his sarcasm.

He took her by the hand and kissed her cheek with chapped lips. “I need to finish before the rain starts.”

“It doesn’t even look like rain.”

“It don’t,” he said, shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed into the western sky. “But the smell’s on the wind that’s been getting stronger the last hour. See there? Clouds are rolling in.”

She frowned.

“I’ll come by the barn tonight.” He stepped close, clutching her waist. “We can watch the storm from the hayloft in each other’s arms.”

His lips found her neck and his hands found her backside before she said, “Mairi’s sick.”

“Too bad.” He groaned and pulled her tighter, leaving not a single place where their bodies weren’t touching. “Guess she’ll be in bed and care even less than normal what we’re getting up to. I been looking forward to how warm and soft you feel, all day.”

Despite his very convincing argument, Ayleth pulled away. “Sounds worlds better than being in the house with her, but she invited me back in, should she need anything in the night.”

“She let you back in the house?”

“I could come back tomorrow—late afternoon, when she’s asleep.”

He smiled. “I’ll finish my chores early.” He swept his hand over her hair. “Have a safe night and get the animals in early.”

With Aarin’s parting words stuck in her mind, Ayleth did as he asked and closed the barn latch before the sun faded. Dark clouds gathered at dusk and thunder rumbled as twilight broke.

Mairi’s change of heart couldn’t have come at a better time. The wind howled as it assaulted the cottage. It battered the shutters and made the boards creak. The rain landed in fat drops, pelting against the shingles until Ayleth pulled her pillow over her head to shut out their constant drumming.

*

Ayleth broke her promise. Next day, she found the low-lying road flooded. Knee-deep water claimed her right shoe before she gave up trying to cross. It just wasn’t worth it. Ayleth’s younger brothers, Dorian and Galen stayed home from school and she gave them tasks to pass time while she spent the day caring for Mairi and missing Aarin.

The third day after the storm, Aarin came by to make certain Ayleth was well. Ever making her life easier, he took the goats out to the pasture because Dorian and Galen were back to school and Mairi was still too weak to get about her own.

When finally the opportunity appeared, to meet back at the river, it had been a full week between swims. Mairi was on the mend and Ayleth finished her chores in a hurry. It was late in the afternoon that she told Mairi she was going for a walk by the river and left, running.

Cool and still, the summer’s air filled with a harmony of insects—crickets chirping their mating calls and fireflies blinking eerie messages in the darkening forest. A rabbit startled in front of Ayleth as she hopped over a fallen log. Instinctively, she gave chase. Casting a few stones at the rabbit, she scored a glancing blow before the lucky rodent escaped.

“What were you, raised my wolves?” Aarin asked, from the riverbank. He stood from a crouch, a dark shape, backlit by the moon.

“And if I was?” Ayleth smiled and adjusted her dress, hanging askew after her dash. “I thought you said there were no wolves in Vaardnell.”

He shrugged and turned his attention to a rustle in the forest. “They spotted one a few years ago—a big black bastard. One of the washerwomen saw it down here somewhere.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Ayleth swallowed, trying to find her voice. “What do you think happened to it?”

“The baron doesn’t like to share his deer. Penalty for poaching is hanging. I bet they just shoot the wolves, though.”

“That isn’t even what it means,” Ayleth said, changing the subject. “You ask someone whether they were raised by wolves when their manners are crude, not because they’re hunting a rabbit.”

“Hunting? Is that what you’re doing?”

“I happen to like rabbit.”

Aarin chuckled. “Then get a bow. If you want, I’ll teach you how to use it.”

“I can shoot just fine.”

He smirked but didn’t argue. “Speaking of wolves, I have a story, if you want to hear.” Aarin got comfortable on the grass and she sat beside him.

“Long ago there lived a man. He had a wolf, a lamb, a yam.


He came upon a river blue, and there he found but one canoe.


He couldn’t fit all three things on, he’d have to cross with only one.


But he couldn’t leave the wolf with lamb, nor could he leave the lamb with yam.


How could the circumstance be beaten without his goods becoming eaten?”



“I love riddles,” Ayleth squealed with delight.

It only took her a moment to solve the simple riddle and in the end, she felt Aarin might have been disappointed. He said, “You’re too clever. I’ll have to try harder next time.”

“I thought you did a wonderful job with the meter of your rhymes.”

“I’m not the poet you are, I’m afraid.”

“Your stories might be short, but that will change once you’ve learned to read and write.”

He sighed. “It’s a dream, nothing more.”

She put her hand on his. “That’s what stories are for. They remind us never to stop dreaming.” She ran her hand up his arm. “If the dream ends, there’s nothing left but to surrender to the mundane.”

“I surrender.” He sighed. “The growing season is nearly done. Long days in the fields, working ‘til dusk. Then off to bed only to begin again the next morning ‘ere the cock crows.”

“This winter then…” she protested.

“Winter isn’t any different. Ice to cut, hogs to butcher. The lambing season will keep the field workers busy ‘til the trees bud. For me, Ayleth, there’s just another field, and another, and some more. Over and over, again. With luck, we’ll have summer nights next year and we can keep hoping one day we’ll live happy ever after like the knights and elves in your stories.”

“But there’s no reason life cannot be happy for those who set their own destiny,” she said.

“My life is already decided. Same as the letters in your books—they say what they say and there’s not much I can do about it. It’s hard to pretend one day they’ll mean more to me.”

“This autumn I’ll show you how to write and you’ll be reading and writing on your own by next summer.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re smart and a fast learner…”

“The summer is waning, Ayleth. How will I handle a pen with bleeding hands?” Perhaps it was her quivering chin that prompted him to grab her face and plant his lips on hers. “I will forgo sleep as often as I can this autumn to come listen to your stories,” he whispered in her ear, “but I will never write any of my own.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, lamenting the finality in his voice and her powerlessness to make him understand how much she thought of him. “That’s a shame. Your heart is full of passion and no one knows it.”

He smiled. “You do. Why can’t that be enough?”

Ayleth had heard enough. Perhaps another time, he’d see reason. “I’ve got to get home.”

He nuzzled into her neck. “Do you want me to walk you?”

“I’m sure I can find my way,” she said, the words coming out colder than she intended. “Besides, I’m not sleeping in the barn anymore.”

“Surely you could tonight.” He ran his lips up her neck, sending shivers through her.

“I can’t. She only just let me back in the house.”

“But I’ll miss you.”

“I’m sorry, Aarin. Mairi is probably upset at how long I’ve been gone. I need to go.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” he said, releasing her. “Good night Ayleth.”

*

Ayleth thanked the gods Mairi wasn’t one to cut a switch—another victory for lethargy. She spent most of the next day on her best behavior. As she finished weeding the garden, Aarin pushed the wrought iron gate open. “Fancy a swim?”

“I can’t. I’m not supposed to leave the garden. It’s my punishment for staying out late.”

He frowned. “But the sun’s so hot today.”

“You’ll have to go without me,” she began, but he grabbed her hand and spun her around. In one swift motion, he untied her apron and lifted it over her head.

Taking her into his arms he said, “I don’t want to swim by myself.” He kissed her, hungry tongue searching her mouth and hands grasping her bottom.

“Mairi can see out the window.”

“She doesn’t care.”

Ayleth groaned. “I’ll sneak out tonight.”

“I can’t wait,” he whispered, leaning her back in his arms and setting her on a low stony wall surrounding the salad bed. A calloused hand slid up her skirt to rest on her thigh. “Are you sure?” he whispered into her neck.

“No,” she said, pulling him closer.

His lips gripped hers again, still wet from their last exchange and Ayleth’s protests fled, overshadowed by the tingle between her thighs that begged for his hand to move just a touch further. Throwing caution to the wind, or perhaps just not caring what Mairi said, she ran her hands through his hair and around his neck. “I suppose we could duck into the barn now. But we have to be quick.”

His teeth found the soft skin of her throat. “Anything you say, miss. If you want it fast and rough, I can oblige.” Ayleth moaned and grabbed the bulge in the front of his trousers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice demanded.

Ayleth’s eyes opened, her heart throbbing at the volume of her father’s anger. Struggling to right themselves, Aarin and Ayleth scrambled to their feet—Aarin with a little help from Ren.

“Da,” Ayleth shrieked, as Ren grabbed a handful of Aarin’s shirt and shoved him away.

His glare burned into her, inciting shame and malice at the same time. “Cover yourself up,” he growled, indicating the unbuttoned neckline of her dress. He wheeled on Aarin, causing him to backpedal. “Get out,” Ren hissed.

“I’m sorry sir,” Aarin said, hands defensive and palms facing Ren. “I shouldn’t have…”

“That’s for damn sure,” Ren interrupted. “Now get out!”

Aarin glanced once more at Ayleth before he turned and left her in the garden to face her father alone. Some might have called it cowardly. Ayleth knew he made the intelligent choice. Ren would never strike her. He’d never even shouted at her before.

Disillusionment hurt worse than the bruises Ren left when he grabbed her arm hard and held her fast before him. “What have you to say for yourself?” She didn’t know which was more frightening, his low growl or his narrow eyes. Malice gleamed from every angle of his otherwise handsome face. Teeth, white but somewhat crooked, showed past a curled lip. She was in trouble. She shook her head, at a loss for words and unsure what to do, never having seen him so angry. “A plowboy? How could you?” Hurt pained his face and Ayleth only briefly wondered why, her thoughts lingering on self-preservation. “You are not to leave my sight, do you understand me?” She nodded, still muted in front of his uncharacteristic outrage. “And you are never to see that boy again. Am I making myself clear?”

“But he’s my best friend,” she said, finding her voice but cringing when it came out quivering.

“It’s no doubt why,” he roared. Releasing her arm, he shook his head. “Allowing a boy to take such liberties is a damn foolish thing, Ayleth. I’m not even sure you know what I mean, being just a child. You might have been sneaking kisses when your stepmother’s back was turned but I assure you, your friend had other ambitions.”

“Stop it,” she cried. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t have to know him,” he said. “Boys like him are roving mongrels. You’re just a girl. I don’t expect you to understand.”

She hated him—hated how he was speaking to her. “You have no right to talk about Aarin like that. He’s no mongrel and I’m not just a stupid girl. I know plenty about love. I’m no innocent maid!”

He stood like a statue, scowling. Finding her inner fight, Ayleth glared back. “Don’t be stupid,” he growled. “You’re only fourteen.”

“I’ll be fifteen in two months,” she said, chin lifting.

Green eyes narrowed, looking deep into her. She stood up tall, not that it helped or hindered his view of her aura—the annoying way he could catch anyone in a lie. “You mean that don’t you?” He grabbed the front of her dress and brought her face scant inches from his own. “You slept with that boy!”

Her eyes went wide with his rage so close—frighteningly close. “He’s my best friend,” she whimpered, her resolve breaking. She feared he’d hit her at her admission and fought an instinctive flinch. Ren, who had never raised a hand to her before, threw her to the ground. He turned away, placing his hands on top of his head and taking a few deep breaths.

Not forgotten, her own anger bubbled up. Without a single conscious thought, her shoe found its way into her hand and just as quickly, it was gone, hitting Ren square in the back. “You’ve been gone a year! What right do you have to reappear and tell me what I can’t do?”

“I’m your father!” he roared, glaring down at her. “I have every right to tell you what to do.”

“You’re a liar,” she spat, tingeing her words with the bitterness she couldn’t suppress. “You don’t care what I do and you’re not my father.”

He stared silently a moment, then he lunged at her. Ayleth tried to scramble out of the way, but was too slow. He pulled her nose to nose with him again as he shouted, “Just what the hell do you mean by that?” Spit flecked her chin.

Ayleth closed her eyes, not wanting to see the hurt her words caused. “I know you’re not my da, Ren. Mairi told me a few months ago when I made her angry—just before she relegated me to sleeping in the barn like an animal.”

She dared a peek when his hand released. He paced a few steps and then sat upon the wall. Leaning forward with elbows on knees, he placed his chin on his clasped hands. “What did she say?” Knees suddenly weak as her anger ebbed, Ayleth said nothing, her lip trembling from the effort of holding back tears. He nodded and stood. “Stay here.”

Ayleth sat upon the ground with a thud and a moment later, Galen and Dorian flew from the cottage, the door slamming behind them. “Ayleth,” Dorian, the older of the two called. “Da is home and he made us leave before we even got to hug him.”

She rose. “He just wants a moment alone with your mum. Why don’t you take his horse to the barn for him? He’d like that. Then you can go down and see Kyla’s new hatched chicks.”

Excited after the mention of chicks, the boys ran off for the village, forgetting all about the horse standing in the yard. Ayleth led the tired animal into the barn and removed the saddle. Voices emerged from the open kitchen window and the temptation to eavesdrop won out over respect for privacy. Ayleth sat on the nearby step. Mairi’s words dripped vehemence, “She’s impossible to live with. She does what she wants, no matter what I say.”

“She’s a child growing into an adult,” Ren replied, no less angry. “She’s supposed to be difficult! What she isn’t supposed to be is thrown out of my house and into the arms of some peasant boy. What were you thinking?”

“I was wondering why I’m raising her all alone, when you’re gone for so long. Who is she and why is she my problem?”

“You knew when I married you that Ayleth was part of the deal.” Ren’s tone sounded like a warning. “I’ve given you a comfortable life and only ever asked you for two things—one of which was to raise her up right. How could you tell her I’m not her father?”

“Because you aren’t,” Mairi said flatly.

“What does that matter? You married me thinking I was. I only told you the truth because I thought it would be easier for you to love her knowing she wasn’t some by-blow which might cause resentment.” Before Mairi could reply, Ren slammed his hand down on the table. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Ren…”

“No apology could ever make up for what you’ve done to me. I’m going to have to tell them you know, and pay the penalty. They’ll probably take her back now that I’ve proven a failure. I could never forgive you for this.”

“But…”

“It’s time for you to leave, Mairi.” His tone left no room for arguing. “I’m done.”

“You’re divorcing me?” she demanded.

“No, I’m paying you off.”

“What?”

“You broke our agreement. Our contract was very clear. Two Sayan children and Ayleth brought up well. Gods, Mairi it was so simple. Why couldn’t you have just kept your damned mouth shut? You didn’t even have to love her as you do the boys, just take care of her.” He slammed something. “How many other wives do you think get a deal like that?”

“A husband who’s never home and a bastard to raise as my own?”

“Don’t call her that.” A moment of silence stretched out before Ren spoke again. “You knew when we married that I get called away.”

“But who’s doing the calling, Ren?” Her voice was full of venom.

“Does it matter?”

“You’re not in my bed even when you’re here. Whose do you keep warm?”

“I never held you to a higher standard. I told you after Galen was born that you were free to see whom you wanted. What’s to complain about?”

“I’m no harlot,” she fumed. “I waited for you!”

“I never asked you to.” Something heavy landed on the table.

“What’s that?” Mairi asked Ayleth’s question for her.

“Your money, per our agreement. Sign here if you don’t mind.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll divorce you and you’ll have nothing. I’m offering you twice the agreed-upon fee to leave now. Two thousand sovereigns because I don’t blame you, Mairi. It’s been eleven years and though we tried to love each other, it was a lie. I’m sorry for that, because I know you gave it every effort, but I can’t change my heart.”

Mairi wept and sniffled. “But where will I go?”

“You are a wealthy woman and can figure that out for yourself.”

“But the children…”

“Are mine,” Ren finished her sentence. “Their auras are bright. They belong to me.”

Ayleth’s heart pounded. What kind of man sent his wife away? Was he angry enough to send her away, too?

The door opened and Mairi and Ren exited. Ayleth stepped aside to allow them to pass. While Ren went into the barn, Mairi glared at Ayleth with eyes puffy from crying. It was awkward knowing what was happening and not having anything to say, so Ayleth looked away.

Mairi pulled her hand back and slapped Ayleth hard enough to cause her to stumble. Ren yelled across the yard. “Get your hands off her!”

“You little bitch,” Mairi shouted.

Ren fetched the reins and thrust them into her hand. “This is your last chance to leave peacefully. I’d take it if I were you.”

Mairi mounted up, still glaring at Ayleth, and led the old mare down the drive. Just that simply, Mairi was gone.

The sense of loss Ayleth felt was unexpected. For a woman who treated her at best with indifference, Ayleth didn’t hold any hatred for Mairi. But it didn’t matter any longer. Mairi was gone and Ren was home. All in one afternoon, the world had tipped on its side and Ayleth felt like she might be clinging by the edges of her fingernails. She had seen a side of Ren she hadn’t known existed; a cruel side that frightened her and she knew there was no way to fool him and sneak off to visit Aarin. He tended to be better at tracking down his quarry than most people were at running.

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Caged Maiden
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