Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

34

There were bowls of steaming oaten porridge, cups of milk, and fresh bread. Mhera, who had been welcomed home to the imperial palace with a feast of a hundred beautiful and exotic dishes, had never seen anything look so delicious. She slid into a chair.

"We stand on no ceremony here, dear. Eat. You should put some flesh on those little bones. And you, Matei! Sit! I'll have two bowls of this porridge in you at least before you're excused from my table. Your cheeks are hollow. I can count your poor ribs!"

Mhera ate hungrily. She was used to plain, limited fare, but that morning she near matched Matei with her appetite. When she was finished, she felt shy. "Thank you, madam. I'm sorry. I was hungrier than I think I have ever been ..."

"Apologizing? For filling your poor dear stomach? Child! You'll eat your fill or I'll go to my grave with the worry of it, so I will."

Mhera felt something between awkwardness and fear. Again, Rhea acted as if she were a friend. As if she had come willingly to this place.

"Besides ... we walked the whole city yesterday, and were drained at the start," Matei cut in. He looked at Mhera with his brows raised, as if to convey to her some message. Perhaps he had seen the confusion in her face and wished for her to keep her silence.

Mhera met his gaze, torn between challenging him and obeying. She decided not to say anything for the moment. Without the meal to occupy her, she was unsure how to act. Rhea began to clear the table. Mhera, used now to such work from her time at the Haven, stood up on her sore feet and reached to help her.

"No, no, dear. You go sit down and rest those feet. Tonight you can help if you're feeling up to it, though it'll be a miracle if you can go about without limping. 'Tei, go and get some water warming for her. Just let me pop into the bedroom. I've got no gown to fit, but mayhap something of Rhodana's ..." and the old woman tottered into the other room, muttering to herself. The curtain fell into place behind her, a makeshift door.

Mhera's blood ran cold. The rebel queen. Had she lived here? She cast a wide-eyed glance at Matei, but he had already turned away to fetch a large basin from the corner. She remembered him saying that Rhodana had been like a mother to him and made the connection.

Ill-at-ease and wary, Mhera limped over to her cot and sat there, her hands anxiously twisted together in her lap. She watched Matei carry the basin over to the hearth. He then took up a big wooden bucket and went outside. When he came back, it was filled with water, and he sloshed it into the large cauldron hanging on an arm over the fire. Twice more he went out to fill the bucket, dumping each one into the cauldron.

Mhera was glad that soon she would be able to wash the grime of travel off, but seeing her abductor draw a bath for her was surreal. She sat stiffly, tense and uneasy. And she could not tear her mind away from the thought that Rhodana must have lived in this cottage.

Rhea came out of her bedroom carrying folded garments. She brought them to Mhera. "Much mended, I'm afraid, but I hope they will fit you. Serviceable, I think ... and most importantly, they're clean."

"Thank you," Mhera said, accepting the clothes. As Rhea walked away, she looked them over. There was an off-white shift and a long-sleeved gown in plain gray homespun. It reminded her of the habit she had worn as a Daughter.

Suddenly, Mhera felt tears burning in her throat. She closed her eyes, trying to swallow the urge to cry. How could it be that a silly gray dress made her heartsick and lonely for a life she had hated?

It took a long time for the water to heat. Matei stood looking down into the pot, his hand braced against the mantel. Presently, he reached for a folded cloth set on the mantel, put it over his hand, and took the great cauldron by the handle. He took it over to the basin and set it against the edge to carefully pour the steaming water in. Although he seemed refreshed today, he carried the heavy cauldron with a grimace, as if bearing the weight pained him.

Rhea then exiled Matei to the curtained bedroom. She brought Mhera soap and a cloth. As she handed the items over, she gestured to her cheek. "That mess on your face is all smeared, Mhera. Best you just wash it off."

Mhera felt the blood drain from her cheeks. She opened her mouth, but Rhea lifted a hand and said gently, "Do not tell me. Matei wouldn't, and I won't have it unless it's from him. He aims to keep me safe, I'm sure, and I trust him." She paused for a moment, peering intently into Mhera's eyes. "There's a lady at the palace named Mhera, isn't there? Some kin to the emperor ... but no, I'm being silly. You don't have a lady's hands."

Mhera held up her work-roughened hands, turning them over. She saw the callouses along the palms and fingers from her work at the Haven, the short nails. Little scrapes. The cut from the binding. Rhea was right. Mhera did not have a noblewoman's hands ... not any more.

"Keep your secrets, dear. Just wash it off, and if it's needful we can draw it on again. But your cheek—what happened, to give you such an ugly bruise?"

"Nothing—an accident," Mhera said. How could she tell this kind old woman what had happened in that wretched prison? It was a matter not worth pursuing, especially if Matei had not told Rhea who she was or why she'd come here. Mhera was too afraid to disabuse the old woman of her ignorance. She lowered her hands again. "Madam?"

"Aye, child?"

"Matei ... is he family to you?"

Rhea smiled. There was real pride, real love, in her expression. "Aye, he is. He's been such a help to me over the years, my boy. Not that he's much a boy any longer. But he always seemed grown before his time. He's older now in body, but that look in his eyes—that, he's had since he was our little one."

"Yours and ... and Rhodana's."

A shadow passed over Rhea's face. Her eyes became glassy. "Gone now, she is. My daughter."

Mhera felt the words in the pit of her stomach, slicing and hot. Goddess above ... to look now into the face of Rhodana's mournful mother and remember the rebel queen lying there at the executioner's feet, headless ...

"Not to worry, dear. Have your bath. I imagine you and Matei will not be staying long," Rhea said. She turned away from Mhera and stood for a moment, as if she had forgotten what she had been about to do. Then she made a soft sound and went back to the kitchen. Fussing there, Rhea occupied herself and gave Mhera what privacy she could.

The tub was small, so Mhera's bandaged feet could dangle safely out of it. The hot water did not last very long and there was not very much of it, but it felt wonderful to scrub herself clean again. She gently washed the cut on her palm and found that once the scab had softened, the wound did not look deep nor dangerous; it would heal cleanly. When she was through with the bath there was a towel at hand, warmed by the glowing hearth.

Mhera dressed in the borrowed clothes. She paused for a moment before pulling on the gown, turning it in her hands to examine it. It had belonged to an evil woman. Would she feel something of her, something of her spirit, in the fabric? Would it still smell like her?

Mhera slid the gown over her head, shuddering, but as it settled warmly around her naked shoulders it felt clean. Normal. Comforting. It smelled like nothing more sinister than soap and herbs.

"If you're decent, will you call him back in, dear?" Rhea asked from the kitchen.

Mhera went reluctantly to the doorway. She did not move the curtain aside, but even so, she caught a glimpse of Matei sitting within on the bed, lost in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of Rhodana.

"Come back in," she said.

Matei stood and came to the door. He brushed the curtain aside and looked Mhera over. "Hm. The red was more cheerful," he said.

Mhera ignored him, turning back into the other room. Following her, Matei went straight to the wash-basin.

"I'll get that," Rhea said. "I can carry it, now it's cool."

"You sit and rest, Grandmother," Matei said, already moving toward the open door with the heavy basin sloshing in his arms.

He took it outside and dumped it, ignoring Rhea as she muttered about his willfulness. Watching her captor go through these mundane, domestic tasks produced an odd feeling in Mhera. She tried not to think of it.

She could not afford to see Matei as a normal man.