The Weaver's Source

Chapter 30

I lowered my eyes and nodded my head glumly. Guilt still whirled. I felt bad for keeping him here.

"We'll leave as soon as you are well and not before. What I hunt for can wait a few days."

I looked up, my eyes bright with joy that I had been right about him for once. "So you are hunting something. What is it?" I blurted out without thinking.

Suddenly his expression changed. It darkened rapidly, like a gathering storm, and his eyes became black. His aura curled with thick rage and power, making me flinch and fall quiet. Without a word, he got up and strode out of the room, leaving me alone.

I sighed and settled into the bed. I knew to never ask that question again, I had never seen him so angry, but it made me wonder what he hunted and why. It could be a monster but it could also be a person. Weavers could make an enemy anywhere and out of anything. They weren't the most liked people after all. I closed my eyes and tried to let sleep claim me but flashes of that old dream, of blood and snow, kept flashing before my eyes. A strange unease filled me. Something made me worry about what he was chasing.

I shook my head, pushing the silly paranoid thoughts from my mind, and looked up to the door when it squeaked open. Arthur stepped in quietly and smiled warmly at me.

"It's good to see you awake." He said as he carried a mug and bottle over to the table then set about lighting the larger lamps in the room, bringing a warm golden glow into existence. "Your companion asked me to bring you more medicine." He hesitated. "Although I would say demanded is a better description, not asked."

I smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry about that. I seem to have put him in a bad mood again."

"I don't see why. I would be overjoyed to have a companion as gentle and lovely as yourself."

I stared up at him, searching for the lie in his warm handsome face, but only found warmth and honesty. Embarrassment and joy caused my cheeks to blush and my fingers clutched the hem of the blanket. No one had ever said that to me; at least no one outside of my family and Gabi. Most of the time I suffered abuse or cold stares. It felt nice to be complimented like that by someone who meant it.

"Do you want some more medicine then?" Arthur asked with soft laughter in his voice as he noticed my reaction.

I nodded and accepted help when I tried to sit up and failed. He gently propped pillows behind my back, giving me something comfortable to lean on. Only once he felt I was comfortable enough did he hand me the medicine and warm honeyed milk.

He sat down on the stool, watching my face as it scrunched up with disgust. I downed the milk quickly, just as I had done the evening before, and sat there, cringing at the horrible bitter taste in my mouth.

"Where is Grigore?" I asked eventually, pleased that the horrible liquid at least soothed my throat a little.

"He's in the kitchen."

I nodded then fell silent as I leaned my head back, letting my exhausted warm body relax. It wasn't easy. The throbbing and aching pain in my limbs and head kept me from relaxing properly. It annoyed me faintly.

"Have you travelled far?" Arthur asked.

I opened my eyes and observed him. "For me yes. I doubt we've travelled that far for Grigore though. He lives on the roads."

"How did you meet him?"

"He came through my town. I decided to follow him as I didn't want to stay there anymore."

Arthur frowned in confusion. "Why wouldn't you want to stay? It was your home, wasn't it?"

"Yes but I wasn't welcome there. People hated me." I mumbled softly.

His frown twisted into irritation. "Hate you? Why on earth would they hate you?"

I hesitated. I didn't quite know how to answer that. While Arthur was kind and generous, I didn't want to tell him that I was a Source, not while I didn't completely trust him.

"My heritage." I said. "I made them feel scared of me."

"So? You've not given me a bad impression so far, that you're a terrible person. They've no reason to be scared of you either." He said, frowning deeply with irritated confusion.

I stared at him with surprise. He barely knew me yet he felt the need to defend me. He was such an open and sensitive person. I reached out and touched his hand, goading him into letting me hold it.

"It's fine, Arthur. You don't need to get upset."

He looked up at me, eyes fixated on my face, still burning with injustice. He squeezed my hand in his own and for a moment he simply stared at them, how my fingers gripped his firmly. Then he smiled at me with that broad smile.

"Do you feel happier?"

I hesitated for a moment. I didn't know what had been bothering Grigore recently but the first week had been had full of contentment. Following after Grigore, hearing him answer my question without pause, showing me anything he thought would interest me from a monster track to stars or a view he'd found scouting around. I had felt content since he agreed to take me with him, happy I was finally doing something more than twiddling my thumbs. I just wanted to soothe away whatever anger had taken him the last three days.

"I do."

"Then maybe it's a good thing you left if it makes you happier." He said, smiling warmly.

My cheeks flushed and my heart fluttered. I stared at him for a moment, bewildered at why he was so kind and complimenting to me when others had always spat out insults, until the door opened sharply. Grigore came in, holding a hot bowl, and his eyes went from my face to my hand entwined with Arthur's.

Instantly my hand shot to my chest where I cradled it and my eyes stared at my knees. I didn't know why but a flood of guilt washed over me. I felt like I was doing something wrong in holding Arthur's hand and feeling immense joy at his kind words. While Arthur gave us both a confused glance, I felt something crackle from Grigore, something dangerous, but he simply came over to me and placed the bowl filled with chicken stew on my lap.

"Eat." He ordered. "Then sleep."

I did as I was told wordlessly while Arthur asked Grigore about his trade and where he had travelled. Eventually though he gave up at the single worded answers and closed off atmosphere. Instead Arthur wished me good health and squeezed my hand softly, offering his help if I needed it so warmly it made my eyes turn pink, then left. I glanced at Grigore who was standing by the door, leaning against the wall lazily and staring the roaring flames of the fire he had built. Despite the ease of his body, I could see his shoulders were tense with irritation and his expression almost brooding. He never spoke nor looked at me, just ran his thumb alone his jaw irritably.

I finished my food quickly, then curled up in a ball under the blanket, almost begging that sleep came. With my eyes squeezed shut, the fever and medicine rapidly lulled me into a fitful, sick and uncomfortable sleep, taking me away from Grigore.