Pleasure and Purpose (33 page)

But still it was more pleasant to be craved than despised.

More proof she'd been too long without a patron if she was allowing her emotions to get in the way of what she knew must be done. Selfish is the heart that thinks first of itself, Mina reminded herself firmly and turned her attention back to Alaric. He'd not been trained to act the part of serving maid, ladies' maid, or any other type of maid, and it didn't particularly please Mina to have him act as such. It wasn't the act of cleaning she required from him. It was obedience.

If his mind were occupied with organizing books and sweeping the floor, he'd be less apt to worry about the pain in his guts from the lack of the drug. It was gnawing, she knew that, and the pain would be just beginning. She'd had little enough experience with addicts, though she'd brought her entire collection of medicinal teas. Some would help. Some wouldn't.

But for now his belligerence, some part of it from the drugs, the rest from his other pain, had faded. She'd seen a glimmer in his gaze when she returned and knew what it meant. She'd have been more surprised had he greeted her on his knees and with a bent head. If he'd been in that sort of place, he'd scarcely have needed her at all. No, wherever his former lady had taken him, it was not a place Mina wished to go.

She would take him to her own places, in due time.

"Alaric." She said it quietly from her place in the chair by the fire where she'd been watching him go about the tasks she'd set.

He turned, the peasant trousers riding low on his hips. They'd lit no lamps and the fire's red-gold glow reflected off the sheen of sweat covering his chest. He'd become almost frantic in his efforts as the sun dipped lower outside the window and finally disappeared. She didn't think either of them believed it was from his desire to please her. He blinked and swallowed hard, then wiped the back of his hand across his lips. His chest heaved with a breath. His nipples tightened, though it was hard for her to tell if it were from arousal or the chill of fever.

"Rest, now."

He shook his head. "No. I. . . you were right. I've made a mess and I need to clean it up. This is an intolerable mess. It's not fit for you . . . not fit for me . . ." His voice scratched and rasped. Alaric waved a hand when his voice failed him. He closed his eyes, bit his lower lip. He cried out and went to one knee, a hand clutching at and toppling the nearest chair. It landed with a crash.

She was on her feet at once. "Alaric, you must rest now." He shook his head, the blond locks lank with sweat. He bent his head, so she couldn't see his face. Mina went to him. "Come."

She took the hand still holding the chair and helped him to his feet. Took him to his bed, which she had fitted with fresh sheets while he'd been cleaning. She laid him down and he went without protest, his body already twitching. She took his trousers down over his hips and off, then undressed quickly and slipped in next to him with nothing but skin between them.

His prick rose, though she doubted he meant to make any sort of love. She curled herself against his back and stroked his shoulders when the muscles spasmed. She crooned to him in wordless songs when he muttered and cried out. When he sweated through the top sheet, she got up and replaced it with a clean one.

All through the night she eased him as best she could with everything she could do. None of it was enough, but it was all she had. When morning broke, so did the fever, and so did he.

She followed him to the bath chamber while he was sick. She cleaned him up without a moment's hesitation. When he begged her for the oblivion, she gave him tea mixed with herbs, instead. When he made to leave and found the door still locked, he raged at her for the key.

He called her the worst names and made the most evil threats, none of which moved her. When at last he collapsed on the wet, cold floor of the bath chamber, she covered him with a cloth and rang for breakfast. She took it from the maid when she arrived and sent her off with a note for Cillian and Edward. Then she bathed herself quickly and dressed in a fresh gown identical to the one she'd worn the day before. She smoothed the fabric on her arms and bodice, and over her belly. She combed her hair and brushed her teeth, all while Alaric moaned and jerked on the floor in a fitful sleep. And when he woke, she brought him a bowl of hot broth and spooned it into his mouth. She bathed his brow with cool cloths and got him back into bed, again with fresh sheets she'd put there. She sat with him until he slept again, this time without twitches and jerks and maybe, without dreams.

She slept herself and woke to find him sitting, staring at her. Shadows circled his eyes, but his gaze was clear. He'd dressed in a pair of loose-fitting linen trousers of the same cut as the peasant garb she'd given him, but clean. He'd brushed his hair, too, and bound it at the nape of his neck with a length of cord.

Mina sat. "You've been up and about."

Alaric nodded. "I. . . yes."

"How do you feel?"

"As though I'd been trod on by wild boars."

She sat up and stretched, aware she'd slept in her clothes. "That well?" Alaric ducked his head. His laughter pleased her, weak as it was. "It was a long night."

"Yes. Have you eaten?" She watched him carefully. He looked tired, but not ill, his muscles without the twitching that indicated craving.

"Yes. Thank you."

"And did you try the door?" She smiled at the way his gaze shuttered just before he ducked his head again and grinned. He had a charming manner that seemed mostly unfeigned. She could work with that.

"If I say no, will you know that I'm lying?"

"I will, indeed."

"And what would you do?" He tilted his head to slant her a look. Mina moved to the edge of the bed to put her feet on the floor. She looked over her shoulder at him as she got up. "Do you want me to say I'll punish you?"

"Would you?"

She stood. "What do you know about Handmaidens, Alaric?"

"I know you believe that for each person you bring to absolute solace, another Arrow will go into Sinder's Holy Quiver. And that when the Quiver's filled, the Holy Family will return. I know you're trained in providing solace to your patrons. But I'll confess, I've met only two of your Sisters and . . . neither was as . . . bold as you." She raised a brow. "Perhaps their patrons didn't require them to be."

"No," he said after a bare pause. "I don't expect any Handmaiden given to Edward or Cillian would be."

Mina smoothed her gown. "You might not know much about me or my Sisters, Alaric, but you are far from my first patron. And you are not the first to ask me such a question. So I shall tell you what I tell them all. If I felt it would bring you solace to punish you, I would do it. But I don't wish to be your mother or your nursemaid, so I hope there shall be no punishment for naughtiness needed."

Alaric nodded. "But you . . . you know me. They told you about me, else you'd not have been so . . ."

"Bold?" She laughed. "My sweet one, I know no other way to be. Think you this is all for your benefit?"

"Isn't it?"

Sinder bless him, the confusion was both adorable and expected. "We were matched, this is true, and it's true as well I am able to bend myself to fit a patron if necessary. Such is my purpose. But the Order doesn't send me to patrons who don't need what I can best provide. I am who I am at all times, not merely because it's what you need." He blinked, understanding swimming up into his gaze from someplace deep inside. "But you are what I need?"

"I hope to be."

"For at least one small moment, yes?" He stood, also.

She hadn't forgotten the words he'd shouted the day before, or the way he'd put his hands on her in anger. It was reason enough for her to leave, even if the drug had forced the actions, but he'd apologized. She believed he meant it. There was hope here, even if it was not for love. "That is the goal, yes."

He moved within an arm's length, but didn't touch her. "You took care of me, all through the night."

"Of course I did. I am your comfort and your grace," Mina said quietly. "I told you that. I'm your Handmaiden."

"My . . . lady . . . My lady Larissa would never have done such a thing." Mina brushed a tendril of golden hair off his face and let her hand linger on his cheek.

"Then she was no true mistress."

He moved from her touch, and though it wasn't unexpected, it did sting her pride just a touch. They stared at each other for the space of a few breaths. He looked away first.

"If you clean yourself up appropriately," she said finally, "I think you might escort me around the gardens. I've heard they're lovely."

She'd taken his arm as though it were the most natural event in the world. They fell into step beside each other even more naturally, his gait shortening to make sure he didn't walk too fast. Her head came only to his shoulder, and he was shamed to recall how fragile she felt in his grip. He could have broken her, but she walked now beside him as easily as if they'd known each other for years.

"I don't even know your name," he said suddenly, surprised he hadn't even thought of it before now."

"My name is Determinata."

He stopped so short his boots left a mark in the grass. "Truly?"

"I don't lie."

Alaric pondered this. "It suits you, I'll say that."

"It's meant to. The Order doesn't give out names lightly. But you needn't address me by that name," she said with a smile.

"What should I call you?" A small burst of unease twisted in his stomach. Now she would command him to call her mistress, or lady. He couldn't do it. Not in the way she would have it.

She looked up at him and let go of his arm. The breeze tugged the fringes of her hair. Sunshine, just a hint too bright, slanted down across her face. In his chambers he'd thought her eyes dark, but here in the light he could see they were mostly green. And frank, he thought as they studied each other. It was easy to believe she didn't lie.

"You may call me Mina."

Alaric watched as a cloud passing overhead cast her face into shadow. "Mina?"

"It's also my name." She took his arm again and started walking, the hem of her gown sweeping across the short-clipped grass.

"But you don't wish me to call you something more formal?" She stopped again to face him. "Such as my lady?"

Alaric shuddered. "No. Not that."

It was what he'd called Larissa, his one true lady. Mina—and it would take some effort for him to think of her that way for Determinata suited her so well—narrowed her eyes to watch him, as though she understood. He thought perhaps she did, better than anyone.

"I don't hold the use of my name as a privilege. Anyone can call me by it, and many do. It's not what you name me but how you behave for me that matters." She wasn't like the other women of his acquaintance, most who simpered and flirted behind their fans. She wasn't like Larissa, who'd met his gaze as boldly but had held her favor above his head the same as she'd lift a treat to make a dog leap. Alaric's guts tensed at the memory, then again with a sudden flare of craving.

She noticed. "Walk with me."

He forced himself to the steady pace she set, though the sunshine had become far too bright and the wind too chill. It had been how long since his last needle-full of oblivion? Too long. The crunch of stone beneath his boots raked at his ears, but Alaric kept his head high.

Mina's grip tightened on his arm. "Tell me the names of those flowers, there." He looked to where she pointed as they drew closer. Red-petaled heads danced on the breeze and sent even chillier fingers down his spine. Next to them a bush of spiked green leaves bloomed with yellow flowers. "Mother's slippers."

"And the yellow?"

"Something buttons. Captains buttons, I think."

"You know your flowers. Very nice." Her touch should have been too light for him to feel, yet each caress of her fingertips pressed him through his coat and shirt. "And the blue ones, farther down the path?"

They walked. In the distance he saw the flowers she mentioned. His mouth opened to answer but a voice from behind them called his name. Alaric turned.

"Cillian."

Dressed as always in the height of fashion, Cillian sauntered down the path toward them.

"Alaric! And . . . my lady Determinata."

Alaric had never seen Cillian at a loss for words. Now his friend looked back and forth from Alaric to Mina and spread his hands, silent. Alaric's guts took another slow tumble, thinking of how low he'd fallen, that his friends should have taken it upon themselves to fit him with a Handmaiden. He swallowed a surge of emotion and blessed the Quiver Edward wasn't there to see him. He didn't think he could face him. Not yet.

"I've just had the most delightful letter," Cillian said. "From Edward. His lady wife has had their child, Alaric. Our dear one is a papa."

The earth slid a bit beneath Alaric's feet, though why the news of Edward's fatherhood should so rock him, he didn't know. He'd seen the man with Stillness. He knew how much Edward loved her. But somehow, knowing it before when he'd had his lady to hold him up had made all the difference.

"Please send him my congratulations." The words slipped out from numb lips. Cillian looked at him askance. "You might present them yourself. They're not opening the house to guests just yet, but I'm to go there in a few days. You'll come along." Alaric said nothing and Cillian only stared. Mina's fingers tightened again on his arm.

"Alaric," she said. "I would know the name of those blue flowers. Go and wait for me by them."

He thought of balking, for who was she, after all, to order him? But he wasn't so far gone he couldn't see what she meant to do. Give him the space he sorely needed. Some time. He nodded and gave Cillian a half bow that set the other man back a step, a startled look upon his face.

He looked back over his shoulder to see Cillian and Mina locked in serious conversation. Cillian was frowning, his arms crossed, the familiar "I want" look on his face. Mina didn't look as though she meant to bend to whatever Cillian was proposing, and a smile flitted across Alaric's mouth. He'd known her just a day, but she would be a formidable opponent even to the King of Firth.