Tempered (A Daughters of the People Novel) (Daughters of the People Series) (27 page)

“Hawthorne, as
the eldest of the line of Bagda and in place of the absent seat on the Council,
it falls upon you to decide the fate of the accused. How say you?”

Hawthorne opened
her mouth, intending to render a harsh justice, and produced only silence.
Aaron’s hand crept to hers, his fingers firm. She glanced down and found him
watching her, his chocolate eyes serious.
Think of Una
, he mouthed, and
she nodded without thinking her gesture through, without considering the
ramifications of taking advice from her mortal lover in front of the People and
its ruling body.
Think of Una
, he had told her. Una, her beloved sister,
gone these many centuries. Una who had sacrificed her own honor first in the
hopes of sparing her younger sibling. Una who had led Hawthorne through the
decades after as they cut down the men who had flogged their mother and
brutally raped the children they had been.

Una, who had
eventually found love, but not before birthing an immortal Daughter, the woman
who stood in front of them all, accused of a crime so heinous, it would bring torture
and certain death at the end of Hawthorne’s hand.

As the eldest in
their line, punishment fell to her, and she would trust no one else to deliver
a swift and sure death to her niece.

Think of Una
.

Hawthorne drew
her fingers from Aaron’s and stepped forward, her heels nearly silent on the hard
concrete floor as she moved toward her niece. When she stood near, she cupped
Isolde’s face and gazed upon the near twin of her beloved sister. “Isolde,” she
said, her voice resolute, “I say innocent.”

Hawthorne had
only a moment to notice the relief on Isolde’s face before a great weight drove
her down. Her knees hit the floor, grinding into the rough surface through her
slacks. From a distance, Aaron shouted her name and a great hew arose from the
onlookers. Isolde was yanked backward by an unknown force as lights erupted
behind Hawthorne’s eyes. She pressed a shaky hand to her forehead, inhaled a
single breath. The weight lifted, freeing her from its burden. She gasped and
arched, following it upward as it escaped into the ether, and lost all sense of
time and space. A wave of dizziness swept her into a swirling vortex of the shadow
that had ever been her companion and she floated to the ground, no longer aware
of the world around her.

The relative
spaciousness of the rural hospital outside of Tellowee surprised Aaron for the
second time in two weeks, or would have if he’d had room in his mind to worry
about the size of the ER or the quality of the nursing staff or the steady
stream of traffic shuffling by the curtained cubicle where Hawthorne lay on a
narrow bed.

Her skin was
pale, cold, and her chest rose so slightly with her shallow breaths, he kept a
finger on the pulse at her wrist, measuring each heartbeat with one of his own.
Her slacks were torn at the knees and her hands were scraped where she’d fallen
on the concrete, though no one had bothered with bandages or an IV or anything
he would’ve expected a patient to be subjected to in a hospital. When he’d
asked a passing nurse, she’d shrugged casually and told him that no one ever
did anything to an immortal Daughter while they were unconscious unless their
injuries were life-threatening. Apparently, they didn’t appreciate the
confinement and tended to wake up swinging, wreaking havoc on everything and
everyone around them.

Ethan Phillips
stood at the foot of the bed examining a hefty summary of Hawthorne’s medical
records. The doctor was about Aaron’s age with eyes the color of leaves in the
spring. His hair was brown, clipped military short on the sides and back, and
had a distinctly reddish tint under the fluorescent lights in the ER. Like
nearly everybody Aaron had met since coming to Tellowee, Ethan was fit and
athletic, and uncomfortably direct. They’d met the week before when Hawthorne
had brought Aaron to the ER after Isolde bludgeoned him. He hadn’t expected to
see the doctor again so soon, not in the hospital, anyway. Maybe at The Omega
or out in Tellowee, but not here in the ER with Hawthorne out like a light and showing
no signs of waking.

“How long have
you known Hawthorne again?” Ethan said.

“Since last
August. We met at DragonCon.”

“Hmm.” Ethan
flipped another page, yawned. “Mmm. Sorry. It’s been busy around here lately.
So, let’s see. You’ve been dating for, what, about three months?”

Aaron rubbed his
forehead with his free hand. “More like two.”

“Having sex the
whole time?”

“Er. Mostly.”

Ethan looked up,
his mouth curved into a small smile. “How do you mostly have sex with
somebody?”

A hint of heat
touched Aaron’s cheeks. “She has trust issues.” No need to add that some of
those issues had been caused by him, and that it had driven what felt like an
insurmountable wedge between them.

“All Daughters
do.” Ethan tucked the file under his arm and pierced Aaron with a no-nonsense
stare. “Have those trust issues been resolved yet?”

Aaron’s gaze
drifted to Hawthorne, still out from whatever had happened to her at Isolde’s
hearing. “Not exactly.”

“What about
love?”

“It’s there, on
both sides.” He hoped. Aaron dragged his gaze away from Hawthorne’s still form
and pinned his own glare on the doctor. “Look, shouldn’t you be trying to help
her instead of asking all these nosey questions?”

“These nosey
questions
are
helping her. Her vitals are good, there’s no sign of
trauma or injury.” Ethan hid another yawn behind the back of his hand. “Are you
sure she doesn’t trust you?”

“Think I’d know
if she did.”

Ethan’s lips
compressed into a thin line. “This looks very much like submission to me.”

Aaron did a
double take. “What?”

“Submission.
Breaking the curse?” A vee appeared between Ethan’s eyebrows. “Surely she told
you.”

“Yeah, she has.”
Still, it didn’t seem very likely, all things given. “You really think so?”

Ethan shrugged.
“Did she take your advice or trust you or do anything you suggested before
collapsing?”

Aaron shook his
head.

“Are you sure?”

“We were at
Isolde’s hearing. Hawthorne specifically told me not to speak or react.”

“So you didn’t
do anything. Hold her hand, touch her back? Sway her in some way toward
something you wanted her to do?”

“Well, I did
sort of mouth something to her, right before she had to decide whether or not
Isolde was innocent.” Hawthorne’s pulse skipped under Aaron’s fingers. He
lifted her hand and pressed a kiss there, willing her to wake up and be ok. “I
told her to think of her sister, and hoped like hell she wouldn’t do something
she’d regret for the rest of her life.”

“And she cried
Isolde innocent.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Because you
asked her to.” Ethan’s brow cleared and a grin spread across his face. “Congratulations,
man. You now have yourself one mortal Daughter.”

Aaron’s heart
kicked into overdrive, hammering so hard he thought it might jump out of his
chest. “Yeah?”

“Pretty sure.”

She trusted him.
Even after everything he’d done, she trusted him. He let that settle in for a
while, tried to wrap his head around it. All he could think of was her face the
day he’d told her she was crazy, the tears clouding her beautiful gray eyes,
the utter hopelessness in her expression, and her hands curled into fists at her
sides. “I don’t think I deserve her.”

“Hunh. What man
deserves the woman he loves?” Ethan tapped Aaron’s shoulder with Hawthorne’s
file. “She should wake up soon, though you can never tell with the really old
ones. I’ll swing by and check on her in an hour or so. If you need me before
then, grab a nurse and have me paged.”

“Thanks,” Aaron
said faintly.

Ethan step
through the curtains separating the ER cubicle from the rest of the floor.
Aaron barely noticed, his mind caught in the implications of Hawthorne’s
collapse. Had she really trusted him that much, enough to change her mind on
something so important? Or was there a deeper cause that Dr. Phillips had
missed?

When he turned
back toward Hawthorne, her eyes were open and fixed on him.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re
awake.”

“So it seems.”
She grimaced and lifted her fingers to her temple. “May we leave now?”

“Not on your
life.” Aaron placed his hand on her shoulder, a mild encouragement for her to
remain prone. “Not until Dr. Phillips gives you the all clear.”

“I am fine,
Aaron. Being mortal does not change that.”

“So you knew?”

“Not until I
overheard you and Ethan speaking on it.” She shifted restlessly on the bed. “I
wish to sit up.”

“Forget it.”

“Aaron…”

“No. I just got
you here, and here is where you’re staying until Dr. Phillips comes back.” He
cupped her hand between both of his, smoothing his fingers over hers. “You
scared the ever-loving hell out of all of us. I thought your family was gonna
bring the mountain down around us when you collapsed.”

A slow smile
bloomed across her face. “That would have been an interesting sight.”

“Says you. You
weren’t the one arguing with Levi over who got to carry you out.” He inhaled a
steadying breath. In the end, Aaron had carried her and Levi had driven them
here, followed by a convoy of concerned kin and friends, all waiting to hear
how Hawthorne was doing. “So, you trusted me, huh?”

“I have trusted
you in small ways for some time, with my body, with Lali.”

He sat back in
his chair and barely kept himself from gaping at her. “You trust me with Lali?”

“You saved her,
did you not?”

“I did what
anyone would’ve done.”

“Not anyone,”
she corrected gently. “Someone who loves her deeply enough to sacrifice himself
for her well-being. It is no insignificant thing, what you did.”

“I love her,” he
said simply.

“She knows. We
all do.” She turned onto her side, curling her legs up on the thin sheet spread
beneath her. “What happened to Isolde?”

“Her guards took
her back to wherever they were keeping her.”

“The Council did
not punish her?”

He shook his
head. “Not that I’m aware. Why?”

She blew out a
small breath. “That is why I brought you there, to witness how the People
treats those who betray us. She was to be whipped for her crimes, and would
have been put to death if the Council had found her guilty of treason.”

“Shit. Really?”

“It is so. As
her elder, carrying out her punishment will fall to me.”

“No.” He gripped
her hand hard and tugged until their eyes met. “You absolutely will not whip
her, you hear? I forbid it.”

Her lips tilted
into a smile. “Do you truly think my submission on one occasion allows you the
ability to control my actions henceforth?”

“Well, no, but
still. You can’t whip her. It’s a heinous way to punish anybody.” He shifted
closer and brushed a hand over her hair, pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Besides, it would be too much like hurting Una. I saw the resemblance between
Isolde and the picture you had me create of her mother, and I know how much you
loved your sister. It’s in your voice every time you speak of her.”

She gazed at him
for long, silent moments, unblinking, her expression empty. Her hand came up and
her fingers trailed along his jaw. “What would you suggest?”

“Can’t you
confine her? Maybe make her pay a bunch of fines or something?” He turned his
face into her palm and breathed in the light perfume she’d dabbed on her wrist
earlier that day. Tea roses in full bloom, a breath of summer in the middle of
the coldest winter. God above, he loved that. “Don’t you have a work release
program or chores that need doing?”

She laughed, the
sound too soft to carry outside the space around them. “This is not the mortal
world where good works outweigh the bad. Still, I shall approach the Council
with your suggestions and plea for lenience on her behalf.”

Relief filtered
through him. At least Hawthorne wouldn’t have to be the one wielding a whip,
anyway. “Thanks. I bet Mathias will be happy to have his wife in one piece,
too.”

“He will. I
shall implore for his sake as much as for yours, though Isolde will not escape a
harsh punishment. At the very least, a significant portion of her accumulated
wealth will be forfeit, paid as recompense for young Upton’s kidnapping and the
harm she did to you, Lali, Ruby, and your guards.”

“I don’t want
anything of hers,” he said flatly.

“You have no
say.” She pressed her fingers to his lips, effectively silencing his argument.
“The fine will be put into a trust for your benefit and the benefit of your
heirs. On this, I shall not be moved.”

He nodded,
though he didn’t pretend to be happy about it. “So this is what it’s like
living with a Daughter, huh?”

“Be happy I have
mellowed with age, else I would have carried you out of here by now.”

“Yeah?” He
grinned and rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. “I’d like to see you try.”

She lifted her
mouth to his and kissed him, gently and sweetly, releasing him slowly.

Aaron stuck his
head out the curtains and asked a nurse to find Dr. Phillips. It was time to
take his lover home.

* * *

It took
Hawthorne two days to convince Aaron of her complete well-being, two days in which
he coddled and spoiled and loved her with the magnificence of a man who has no
other in his heart. Two days after submitting her will to his on a matter so
trivial it hardly bore reflection, she awoke wrapped around him, her bare legs
tangled with his, her head resting on his broad chest over the steady beat of
his heart.

That afternoon,
she would return to the IECS, state her case for leniency before the Council
and carry out whatever punishment they believed Isolde deserved. Fines and a
life of confinement and service would render justice where a whipping might
have killed her mortal niece. As irritated as Hawthorne was over Isolde’s
actions, she did not wish to lose the only link she had left to her beloved Una.

Hawthorne sighed
as she slid her hand along Aaron’s lower abdomen, resting it over his hip. He
shifted in his sleep, turning toward her as he always did, as if he could not
help being drawn to her.

After overseeing
Isolde’s punishment, Hawthorne would fulfill her duty to the People and assume
her place on the Council, serving and representing her foremother, Bagda. The
reluctance gripping her was eased by the presence of the man at her side. No
longer must she face these onerous duties alone without council or comfort or
love. No longer must she endure the endless centuries, haunted by the past.
Aaron had brought peace into her life and helped her remember the joy of
living. Even if she had never given him her heart, she would be thankful for
that.

“Good morning,
lover.” His voice was a rough rumble beneath her ear, his embrace a comfort she
hoped never to do without again. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of
yours?”