Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

45

"Don't go teaching her this wretched craft," Matei said. "She's trouble enough, Aun."

Mhera and Aun shared a glance. Aun said, "You came all this way? Alone? With him? It must have been horrible."

It had been. It had been the most horrible thing Mhera could imagine. But somehow, she smiled again.

"There. That should do it, and the tie shouldn't bother you." Aun put the top onto her pot of salve again and handed it to Mhera, as naturally as if Mhera had always been there to help her with her tidying-up. As Mhera took the pot back to the shelf, Aun cleared away the bowl of water. It was murky, red with blood.

"Thank you, Aun," Matei said. "All teasing aside, I'm grateful for you."

"As you should be. I've probably saved your life, you fool," Aun said—but her cheeks had gone pink at Matei's words. "Now, stay here and rest. Mhera, would you stay, too? I'll go to the longhouse and get us some lunch if there's any left. It's probably ... safer for you here."

"Will you need help?" Mhera asked.

"No, dear. I bring a basket back every day for those I'm tending. Stay with him. There's water; will you get him some?" She pointed to a pitcher on a table near the wall. "If he gives you trouble I'll think of a suitable punishment when I return."

"Still here," Matei said. He had lain gingerly on his side on the bed. "I can hear you."

"I know. Be good," Aun said, and she left.

Mhera went to pour Matei some water. As she reached for the pitcher, she was reminded of the last time she had brought Matei a drink. Her hand fell limply to her side; she stood there for a moment, remembering.

"I should have been there," Matei said, interrupting her thoughts, "at the start of it all."

At first, Mhera was not sure what he meant. He had been there. Then, she realized he was talking about the trial, not the dungeon. "You let them take me," she said. She reached again for the pitcher and poured a cup full.

"I couldn't fight them all. And what I said about you, I needed to say in front of everyone."

Mhera moved toward him, holding the cup in both of her hands. "Do you think it will make a difference?"

Matei gave a crooked smile. "You saved me, Mhera. I took your help when you would not have given it freely, but you saved me nonetheless. Now, I save you. They won't touch you—not now that they know what connects us. They respect me here."

Mhera offered him the cup. He reached up with one hand and took it, not touching her fingers as he did. He sat up, wincing with the effort, and drank. Mhera said, "You're their king."

Matei set the empty cup on a small table near the bed. "I don't like the word. Rhodana ... she raised me to this life."

"They called you by her name."

"Matei u Rhodana. We go by our mothers' names, and she's as close as I had."

"Matei ..." Mhera twisted her fingers together, meeting his questioning gaze. "Your back. I'm sorry."

The rebel waved her words away. "Mhera, what I said in the longhouse was true. You had no hand in this."

The young woman shook her head. "You don't believe that. And ... I don't either. I'm complicit in it. I knew of the war, but I never knew ... this. That you were tortured. Your friends. Whatever you've done ..." The words failed her, and she was left grasping. She was remembering her vision—her vision of the mill.

Matei looked at her for a moment, as if trying to read in her eyes what was on her mind. Then he glanced away and pointed to a chair resting against the wall. "Bring that over here and sit for a moment, if you like. Your feet are hurting you."