Straight Through The Heart ((ON HOLD))

Chapter Fourteen

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Alisa had cleaned up and changed, joining Chey in the main sitting room before thoughts of dinner would even be considered. The deep cut on her face throbbed where she pressed the clean towel against it to cauterize the blood flow while also hoping to keep down the swelling. What she wouldn't have given for Bren's Cleric powers... there was no way it would be able to heal without scarring and she scowled at the thought as much as she did at Chey's chastising.

"She called Mother a demon's whore," Alisa muttered while she pulled the towel away to assess the blood. "How could you expect me to not react?"

Chey paused in his pacing and turned to her. "Azima doesn't need you defending her honor."

"Someone has to!"

The look on his face was incredulous. "What do you think I have been doing since the moment they appointed me High Councilman?"

"Well, it certainly hasn't been trying to explain to these ignorant people calling themselves Venandi what my mother did to save their asses."

"You're trying to become one of these ignorant people, remember? Besides, you don't even know the half of what she did."

"I'm ready to listen as soon as anyone wants to tell me."

"Be careful what you wish for."

"I wouldn't have to wish if you all just stopped keeping secrets and told me—-"

An unexpected knock at the front door interrupted Alisa's demand for transparency, and both she and Chey immediately turned their attention towards the foyer, on the defensive. Had Trenta Pelletier returned home and cried to her mother about what had happened? Was the Pelletier clan now seeking retribution for Alisa's outburst? Did she create an even greater problem for Chey merely by refusing to accept what people said about her mother like he wanted her to?

Tossing the bloodied towel aside and standing slowly from the couch, she watched Chey approach the door with equal care, opening it with caution to see who called on the High Councilman at the late hour. The look on Chey's face reflected as much astonishment as did his greeting.

She heard an equally unexpected familiar male voice on the threshold and quickly moved to stand beside Chey to see Kaer standing on the doorstep. He, too, had cleaned up since the day's events, dressed in a simple shirt, pants, and boots, his sword belted at his hip and his dark hair still damp. The autumn evening was surprisingly mild, otherwise she'd invite him in out of fear of catching cold.

He met her gaze the moment she came into view and gave her an overly charming smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"You are," Chey said."

"He's not," Alisa snapped, turning back to Kaer. "We're about to sit down for dinner— would you care to join us."

"No, I won't impose. I only came by to give you this."

In his hand, he presented her with a small jar, no larger than his palm. She took it, half expecting it to explode upon contact. Not that she thought Kaer would cause her any harm, but after the day she had it was difficult to discern.

"It's a healing salve. My family gave it to me before I left for the Parish."

"And which family would that be?" Chey inquired.

Kaer gave him that overconfident smirk. "We renounce our family names the moment we depart for the Parish, High Councilman."

Kaer, for all he had told her about the importance of family, was so quick to forget upon Chey's inquisition. And by the look on Chey's face, it seemed he almost wished he had. Alisa was done playing political games and stepped between the two of them.