With an agreed upon plan for waiting for at least a day to see if Noran either responded or just showed up, Roshan climbed into the bed beside Hrulinar and the two of them lay together, their backs to one another, both their eyes closed. Therin supposed that at least the human of the two was resting. He had no idea what the spirit was doing but he too seemed to be recuperating in some way.
Therin thought about Hrulinar as he paced and felt himself drifting into a bitter mood. His prisoner had somehow turned the tables on him, goading him into making choices he wanted, welcoming a new person into the fold of their troubles. Something that Therin couldn’t place was going on between the two forms on his bed, some mental magnetic pull. It was foreign to him, the thing that flickered between them.
He had seen their exchanged glances and deep stares. Something had passed between the two of them, something that excluded Therin entirely. It was some kind of primal pull, not attraction, he reasoned, but something that Therin was not privy to and deep down, he felt the dark thread of jealousy snake its way into him.
The spirit had also shared these kinds of looks with Alira, but at least then he could see the adoration that the spirit had for the young witch was unlikely to be reciprocated. Her annoyance and distrust was very easy to read on her once-plain features. He shuddered as he thought of her face now, the too-wide eyes and the deathly pallor. Hrulinar’s love-struck face kept looming in his thoughts, though. The way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the way he would watch her when he was apart from her. It made Therin feel alone, watching Hrulinar’s pull toward her.
And now this newcomer, Roshan, held Hrulinar’s attention in a similar way. The looks that passed between them were private and Therin felt irrationally angry at the exclusion. He was a good man, a good person, doing his best. He was entitled to some form of kindness, wasn’t he? But neither of the other males had looked at him with anything but annoyed disbelief or stoney passiveness. While he certainly didn’t wish to engender attraction from either of the men, he was desperate to be taken seriously, to be looked to for advice.
To be respected.
He stopped his pacing and stood in the doorway, his eyes on their still forms in his bed. The curtains were drawn and the fire was unlit, casting the room in a dark shade. They could have been any two people in the gloom. He watched them for a moment longer, feeling the jealousy that had bitten him flood his veins. Jealousy that turned quickly to loneliness. He ducked out the door and tried to leave the feelings behind.
As he calmed himself he walked slowly, wandering in the huge house he had such happy and horrible feelings about. He drifted like a ghost in his own childhood memories as he wandered from room to room, the doors all unlocked.
He came upon the largest room of the manse and entered, shivering in the chill of the unheated room. It was huge, the hearth alone almost as tall as he was. Above the fireplace, which was dark and cavernous, was an enormous painting of Devan in his High Lord’s plate armour. He held the gorgeously illuminated Tome of Heroes in one hand, the chain fastened to his wide belt. The Hight Lord’s mace, almost impossibly large, was held in his other hand like a sceptre, brightly lit with Light as he stared down at the artist that had taken his likeness. His dark brows were knit together in a stern but benevolent expression and a golden circlet donned his forehead.
Therin turned from the face of another man in his life that would never look at him with respect and wandered the room, letting his hands touch the rich fabrics of the chairs and sofas. He danced a fingertip across the smooth, silken surface of a highly polished side table and sighed.
He let his fingers trail down the keys of the huge piano in one corner, noting how it was still in tune, dust free, and sparkling. He looked out the window over the sprawling lawn, his arms folded across his wide chest, and sighed again, the tightness in his chest a deep ache that made his breath catch as he ruminated. He left the room, casting a final glance at the likeness of the man who had tried to raise him, who had tried to teach him right from wrong and who had somehow failed miserably.
His stomach ever rumbling, he made his way to the kitchens, watching for Sally and Mrs. Jones. As he helped himself to a cold chicken and a fresh loaf of bread, he jumped guiltily as the young housemaid entered.
“Master Therin,” she said warmly, a shy smile on her lips and he groaned inwardly as the ache deepened.
“Sally,” he said but didn’t meet her eye. He was suddenly keenly aware of the fluttering in his gut, the way his breath caught when she said his name. His heart was racing as he caught the shape of her out of the corner of his eye. The fondness she had for him was plain and the antidote to his loneliness. He cut up the cold chicken into thin slabs and laid them on the thick pieces of bread he had already sliced.
“Does the High Lord know you’re here this time?” Her voice held a note of accusation and he felt it pelt through him like ice but his heart thudded to hear her speaking to him. He gave her a half-hearted shrug, hoping it came off as nonchalance. “Because he sure didn’t last time.” She knelt to begin cleaning out the hearth and Therin was very aware of how dim the cosy kitchen was without the roaring fire and how it made everything seem closer.
He didn’t answer her, letting the nervous jitteriness inside him calm before trusting his words. He was amped up from the last few days, the events having flayed his nerves to the bone. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, willing his pulse to slow. The silence between them stretched to an uncomfortable crescendo, peaking and breaking upon him awkwardly. Therin took a steadying breath and looked at her finally.
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She was on her knees, her full face turned to him. A curl had escaped her bonnet and Therin was reminded of the times he had teased her, pulling that same bonnet over her face and stealing snacks, how he had once felt things for this girl that he couldn’t describe. He met her eyes and even in the gloom he saw the blush steal onto her plump cheeks.
“It’s nice to have you home,” Sally said and the note of pleading in her voice stung him, making his skin prickle in a painful way. “Without everyone else around it’s lonely.” She turned toward the hearth, unconscious of the echo her words had inside him.
“I can imagine,” he said tightly and he was relieved that his voice did not break. He buttered the bread slowly as he glanced at her, now bent completely over, her head into the hearth. A heated bolt shot down his gut. “Mother take me,” he whispered and kept his eyes downcast again.
“Should we be expecting you home more often?” Sally said as she sat back on her heels and wiped the stray curl out of her face, streaking a small line of soot across her nose in the process.
“I shouldn’t think so,” he said and wished he could offer her something other than lies and secrets. His mind drifted to the prayers, things he said to stave off temptation and he stopped.
He wasn’t a monk anymore. He had forsaken that path. He had abjured the oaths he had sworn when he had left the monastery, hadn’t he? What was his moral code now, but one that he could forge himself?
“That’s a shame,” she said as she stared boldly at him. “But I heard you’re doing very well at the monastery.” He set his mouth in a grim line as he looked back to his sandwich making.
“Not everything you hear can be trusted,” he said quietly, mostly to himself. She heard him though and snorted.
“As the High Lord only says good things about you, perhaps you’re right to be sceptical,” she teased. She leaned back into the hearth and Therin avoided the view it offered him, choosing to focus on what she had said.
“He talks about me? That’s surprising.”
Sally scoffed again and sat back on her heels once more.
“Why? He loves you, doesn’t he?”
“Does he?” Therin asked as he met her eyes again. His eyes drifted down her face to her lips.
“Who doesn’t?” She asked softly and he felt his stomach drop at her whispered words. She blushed again and smiled, her dimples and sparkling eyes making his breath catch in his throat.
Suddenly, he was a young teenager again, seeing Sally for the first time through the eyes of a young man, not a boy. He saw her smile at him just like that one day and his stomach had done a funny turn and he was suddenly hyper-aware of her. Every part of the scene was in slow motion that morning. The dust motes in the light that streamed from the window, the way her curls bounced as she turned her head to him, the light catching in the silken strands with a blinding brightness. His heart thudded painfully.
He remembered seeing her smooth the front of her gown in a certain way, and suddenly noticed the girl’s figure, how it had seemed to grow in fascinating ways overnight. Her smiles had turned shy and blushing, her dimples had somehow become enchanting. The memories flooded him, overwhelming him.
“I’ll trade you for one of those cakes,” he said to her, his voice nearly breaking. Blushing and smiling she looked up at him as she pulled a tray of lemon cakes from the oven.
“What could you possibly trade me for a cake?”
“A kiss,” he said boldly and she beamed, her blush ever brighter. Slowly, she lifted an already cooled cake off the rack on the work surface and held it out to him. He took the cake and her hand. He turned her hand, lifting it to his lips and brushing them against her flour-dusted knuckles. He opened his eyes as he lifted his lips from her skin.
Breathless, her chest heaving, she blinked down at him.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Jones said, bustling into the kitchen with a frown. Grinning widely, Therin winked at Sally and dropped her hand. He took a roguish bite of the cake, still beaming widely at her, and skipped out of the kitchen, giving Mrs. Jones and her swatting hand a wide berth.
“What have I told you, Sally? Stay away from the Master’s sons!”
“I wasn’t, Mrs. Jones…” But Therin could not hear her embarrassed excuses as he escaped to the outdoors.
The innocence of their flirting was a nostalgic sting as he saw how little Sally had changed. The years had done so little to her, merely refining her beauty from a childish sweetness to a womanly lushness. She had been the centre of his attention for a few years, slowly working her way into his heart. Their stolen moments had been so innocent.
Before the witch.
The memory of Mara was a black stain against the bright sweetness of his youth. She had entered his home and everything, everything had fallen apart. He felt the fluttering in his stomach turn to rocks, the food before him suddenly unpalatable. He rolled his shoulders gently and felt his scars pulling tightly.
What would it have been like if she had not come and worked such sinister magic against him? Against Noran? What natural course of action would he have taken? Where would he have ended up?
Sally stood and emptied the dustpan she had used to sweep out the hearth. As she bent to lay a new fire, Therin watched, purposely keeping himself from averting his male gaze, allowing himself the indulgence of watching her.
Would he have fallen in love with Sally? Made the same mistakes with her?
What mistakes? He asked himself. I am an innocent man. A good man. I was lied to. Tricked. Deceived. And now, I’m no longer bound by codes that destroy my happiness.
Before he could stop himself, he had made his way around the work surface dividing them. As Sally stood, the new fire lit, dusting her hands onto her apron, she started to find him suddenly so close.
“I am a good man,” he said to her and she smiled warmly.
“Of course, Master Therin.”
“I can make good choices,” he said and she frowned slightly.
“Yes, of- course,” she said and he noticed she was trembling. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, just as he had once, a long time ago.
This time, he met her eyes as he did so, watching her lips part in reaction, her eyes widened. Her chest heaved, just as it had before and with a sort of male satisfaction, he dropped her hand, cupped her cheek and kissed her. She threw her arms around his neck and melted into his embrace.