Wolfsbane Winter (14 page)

“I was drugged, not drunk. It was part of the scam they were all in on, so it fucking well was their fault. And I had a whole season’s pay in my purse. For that much, I could have had every damned whore in Oakan for the week.” Admittedly, this was a slight exaggeration. Even five years’ pay would not stretch so far. Oakan held a vast army of prostitutes.

Palemon slapped his hand on the desk. “I don’t appreciate that sort of language in my office.”

Deryn dropped her eyes to the floor, fighting to keep control of her anger. This was worse than being robbed. Abran had taken her money, not her self-respect, and if ever she laid hands on him, he would not object to her swearing. He would have quite enough else to worry about. She would make sure of it.

“The fact remains that you can give us nothing to work with in tracking down these supposed thieves, and no firm evidence to hold against them if we did. I really don’t see what you’re hoping for me, or my officers, to do.” Palemon’s self-satisfied smile was the final insult.

Deryn would put up with it no longer. She turned to the door. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, sir. I hope you’re equally sorry for wasting mine.”

“Wait a minute.”

Deryn stopped with the handle in the grip. “What?”

The smile had gone and Palemon was now giving her an appraising look. “If that was your entire year’s earnings, what do you intend to do now?”

As if you give a flying fuck.
Deryn swallowed her first reply. “I’ll think of something.”

“Because, although I can’t help you with the lost money, I might have an offer you’d find useful.”

“Such as?”

“A job.”

Was it another game? Judging by the marshal’s expression, there was more to it, but the bait was too enticing to ignore. Deryn turned back to face him. “What sort of job?”

“There’s a small farming community, a few miles to the north of here. It’s only a day’s travel, but when the winter snows hit, it will be cut off for weeks on end. However, it’s part of the Kingdom of Galvonia, and therefore it’s my job to protect it. Luckily, it doesn’t need much protecting—the odd pack of wolves, a half-starved bear, a lost child. At worst, a farm may get hit by an avalanche and need digging out. That’s all you’ll see in winter. In summer, they might have an occasional thief who makes the mistake of going there before finding out there’s nothing worth stealing. The winter garrison is only three soldiers, but I’m still having trouble finding volunteers.”

“Why?”

“I’ll be honest with you. It doesn’t pay well, and it’s deadly boring. I’d prefer to have my own men stationed there, but I’ve employed Iron Wolves in the past when I had trouble making up the numbers. Are you interested?”

Deryn raised her eyes to the ceiling while she made a pretense of thinking it over. Instead of a winter in the southern warmth, swapping stories with Brise, she would be freezing her tits off in the ass-end of nowhere, with soldiers, snowmen, and sheep for company. But what option did she have? If nothing else, it would be an excuse to put in the letter to Brise, explaining her absence that winter.

“Okay.”

Alana woke and rolled onto her back. Gray predawn light peeked through the window shutters and drew faint lines across the rafters. She yawned and stretched out her arms. Something was missing. The bed beside her was empty.

Alana closed her eyes, mentally rebuking herself. Why should it still surprise her each day? The bed had been empty for the last year. How long before she got used to it? Or was missing a warm body to hug and soft lips to kiss every morning something that only got worse with time? In which case, the future looked grim. The ribald local jokes were no longer quite so funny.
Another few years and I’ll be eyeing up the sheep as well
.

The crowing cockerel broke the peace, destroying any hope of snuggling under the covers and going back to sleep. Alana took a deep breath and slipped out of bed. Chores awaited her: wood to chop, the cow to milk, eggs to gather. She pulled open the door, letting wisps of morning mist trail into the room. The air was crisp and clean, heady with the scent of pines and wet earth.

On three sides of the cottage, the forest of dark green conifers formed a high protective hedge. Her herb and vegetable garden filled the clearing in front, with the chicken coop and cow shed off to one side. Her home was sited high on the hillside, overlooking farms dotted around the glittering small lake below. From the doorway, Alana had an unimpeded view of the mountains lining the horizon on the opposite side of the valley, buttressed by sheer cliffs and topped with snow. The sky to the east was a riot of pink and gold. Dawn was close. Only the brightest stars still twinkled directly overhead. Even the ramshackle hamlet of Neupor looked quaint in the distance.

Alana sighed. The panorama that greeted her each morning was worth everything Ellaye had to offer and more. It was a shame Reyna had not thought the same.

Looking back, Alana had not been surprised when Reyna finally left. More surprising was that she stayed as long as she did. In the end, it had been the comforts of court life, not the arms of another lover, that Reyna had been unable to live without. Even so, Alana wondered who the rival had been. Reyna never offered any clues and Alana had not challenged her on the subject.

The cottage was admittedly basic, just a colorless single room. The furniture was sparse; a couple of chairs by the stone fireplace, a table under the unglazed window, a dresser against the wall facing it, and the box bed built into the corner. The thatched roof was smoke blackened. Unpainted clay plaster filled the gaps in the log walls.

Reyna had complained that the decoration lacked refinement, and it had not helped when Alana pointed this was not strictly true. There was no decoration, refined or otherwise. Everything was purely functional, simple and basic. No paintings or relics hung on the walls, no hint of gold or gems enhanced their possessions, no embroidered carpets lay on the slate floor. Alana had offered to get a sheepskin rug, but this had not made Reyna happy, although her refusal had surely cheered up a sheep somewhere no end.

The absence of anything beyond what was absolutely necessary included their clothes. Alana grabbed her outer garments off the back of the nearest chair: loose pants and a looser shirt, made from coarse, homespun cotton; thick woolen socks; and boots so chunky they had probably taken half a cow each to make. Alana’s family could have afforded better—the Quintanillas’ annual outlay on shoe polish alone would buy the cottage several times over—but fine linen and a mansion would rather have spoilt the pretense of being ordinary commoners.

Reyna had understood the logic of it, yet clothes had been the start of their final argument.

The stem had snapped while the carrot was stuck half out of the ground. Reyna had slipped and fallen on her butt. She squeaked as she landed and Alana had laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sorry.” Despite the word of apology, Alana had continued laughing. Maybe that had been the biggest mistake.

Reyna scrambled to her feet and scowled over her shoulder, trying to see the coating of mud she had acquired. “It’s bad enough I’m wearing rags I wouldn’t give to a stable boy. Now I’m filthy and I’ve got to put up with you cackling. Look at the state I’m in.” Disgust and shame came off Reyna in waves.

“It doesn’t matter. Who’s to see you?”

“Nobody.” With that word, the nature of her upset shifted, from distress to anger. “Damn well nobody.”

That was when Alana knew it was serious. Reyna never swore. She tried to block out her lover’s anger. If she started to feed off it, they would be into another pointless argument. Alana clenched her hand around Orrin’s talisman, hung on its cord at her throat, trying to summon strength. The action had become a reflex for her when faced with a bombardment of emotion.

“Reyna, I really am sorry I laughed. But I’m here, and I don’t care what you wear.”

“No, you don’t, do you? You don’t miss having nice things. But I do.”

“Of course, I…er, like…” There was no point lying. Alana did not think about clothes from one week to the next, and Reyna knew it. She tried for a compromise. “I like the way clothes look good on you.”

“No, you don’t. You just admitted it. You said you didn’t care.”

Whoops. Why did lovers want you to be consistent when you were trying to butter them up? “Pretty clothes make you happy. I just want you to be happy.”

“Do you know what would really make me happy?” Tears filled Reyna’s eyes.

“Um…” Alana had a nasty feeling that she could guess.

“Having a meal I don’t have to dig up myself and then wash the muck off before I can eat it. Not having to chop down a tree to get warm. Sitting with Jules and Nina, and chatting about fashion and…oh, I don’t know—stupid things.”

“Such as, who’s sleeping with someone else’s partner?” This had been their favorite topic, and would not have been quite so stupid if it had contained more fact and less fantasy.

“You never liked my friends, did you?”

Where had that come from? It might be true, but Alana did not see how it followed on from what she had said. “They were okay, but they were your friends, not mine. I didn’t have much in common with them.”

“And we’ve got so much in common with everyone around here—cows and peasants.” Sarcasm was another bad sign in Reyna.

“I know you miss the life in court.” Alana had put her arm around Reyna’s shoulders, only to have it shaken off.

“And you don’t.”

“I don’t miss the backstabbing and the double dealing, the hypocrisy. Remember it was different for me, because of my family.”

“Because they were so important?” Reyna sneered.

“No, not that. My family live their lives in a constant fight to see who can crawl the farthest up the king’s ass. And when you think about him, he’s an unpleasant, stupid man who nobody would give a fish’s fart about, if he wasn’t king. The only noteworthy thing about him is the ability to call fire—that and the fact he’s his mother’s eldest child. It’s true. Everyone knows it. But if I were in Ellaye, I wouldn’t dare say it aloud.”

“You don’t want to go back.”

“Yes, I do.”

Reyna had stepped back, shaking her head. “No, you don’t. I’ve just seen it. All the twaddle you’ve been giving about trying to rebuild your mental shields. You’re not trying at all. You want to stay out here. And I don’t.” Reyna’s voice rose. “I won’t do it any longer.” She ran into the cottage and slammed the door.

Alana had stood in the middle of the vegetable patch, trying to master the anger, and not merely her own. At least half of what she was feeling she was picking up from Reyna.

Maybe the bit about not wanting to return was true. She had hated all the political maneuvering when she lived in Ellaye. From a distance it was even more absurd. Out here, she had space. She had peace and sanity. She was free to do whatever she felt needed doing, without worrying about how it would reflect on her family.

However, the main thrust of the accusation was completely unjustified. More than anything, Alana wanted to regain the ability to shut other people out of her head. She wanted to be sure that what she was feeling was really her. She wanted to be sure of who she was. Yet her ability to control her talent was growing so slowly, weak and haphazard, Alana suspected she would never be able to cope with more than a dozen people nearby at once, and she would never be able to interact fully with just one person without losing part of herself.

Pain in her hand had made Alana glance down. She had been grasping the silver talisman so tightly it had dug into her fingers.

When Reyna emerged from the cottage her anger had faded. Reyna’s temper never could burn hot for long. She was contrite and tearful, swamped in remorse, but she also had a bag packed with all her belongings.

“I’m sorry, Alana. I didn’t mean it. I know how hard you’ve tried to rebuild your barriers.”

“And I’m sorry I’ve not done better at it.”

“It’s not your fault. And…and it’s not mine either. I’ve tried as well, but I can’t stay here.”

Alana had fought back her own tears. “I know.”

“I’ll write.”

“Yes. Do that.”

“Maybe, without me around, you’ll be able to concentrate more on learning how to…”

Alana would have recognized the sop to a guilty conscience, even if she could not feel the embarrassed remorse coming off her lover—ex-lover. She nodded. “Maybe.”

Reyna had hugged and kissed her one last time and then walked away down the hillside toward Neupor. Alana had watched her go. The promised letter had never arrived. Alana had not been surprised.