Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

32

Ealin stirred as the smells of cooking bacon and beans began to waft from the campfire. She rolled over onto her stomach, glancing over at the two men from under a curtain of pale hair. Once, Uachi would have gone to her and smoothed back her hair from her face.

The memory stirred complex emotions in him. He settled on revulsion.

"Can you sit up?" he asked.

She did, propping herself on her elbow and then stretching out her legs. In an undertone, she said, "I need to make water."

A flush rose to Uachi's face. He hoped it was not visible in the early morning light. Ealin met his gaze with a challenge in hers. "Uarria does, too. She always does in the morning. Let me take her."

"That's out of the question," he said. "You will not touch that child again."

Pressing her lips together, Ealin stared at him, silently daring him—to what, he didn't know. He glanced at Diarmán, who was busy at the cookfire. "I'll untie your feet," he said.

"And my hands. You must."

"No." He took a knee and began to work at the knots that had cinched her feet together. It would have been easiest to cut them, but their supplies of cord were limited. Ealin winced when he pulled one of the cords a bit too roughly; he refused to meet her gaze, but he did begin to work more cautiously.

Once her feet had been freed, he took her by the arm again and led her toward the copse of trees near which they had camped the previous evening. She stumbled on her feet, and he tried not to walk too quickly. He did not wish to be cruel. "Here," he said.

Ealin stood, sullen, glowering at the ground before his boots. "Untie my hands."

"I said no. I can't trust you, Ealin."

She glanced up at him under her lashes. Why did she seem so different now? Before, she had been sweet, gentle, timid. Now, she was sullen. Sultry. "You trusted me before. It is cold here, Uachi. Do you not want a woman to keep you warm?"

A feeling unlike any he had ever felt toward her rose up in Uachi's breast. It was disgust and It was shame and it was resentment and it was horror. He turned his back. "Do your necessary. And be quick."

There was a rustle as Ealin struggled with her skirts, and then he sensed her squatting down, her back against the tree. He walked on a few paces, wanting to give her what privacy he could without leaving her unattended. He listened closely, attentive to any suggestion that she was going to take flight.

When silence fell again, he glanced over his shoulder and saw her standing, her face turned away, back the way they had been heading.

"Where were you going, Ealin?" he asked.

She looked back at him, her expression unreadable, and said nothing.

Uachi took her by the upper arm again and guided her back toward their camp, where Diarmán was dishing out their breakfast into a pair of wooden bowls.

"Don't suppose you have more bowls in your pack, madam?" Diarmán asked with distant courtesy, eying Ealin as she chose a seat near the cook fire again.

"No," was Ealin's only response.

"Well, then. We'll share." Diarmán looked at Uachi, and then, perhaps judging what he saw in the ranger's face, he sighed. "I'll share with you." Under his breath, so that only Uachi could hear, he muttered, "We'll be fast friends, I know it."

"Uarria," Uachi said, reaching out a hand to the princess. "Do you need to make water?"

She sat up, pursing her lips. Looking between Ealin and Diarmán, she nodded, hesitantly.