94. Wary

Grass-stained and tired, we rode Maggie home, me leaning into him the whole way.

I had never felt closer to him than this day.

In the saddle, as the sun set over Pikestully, the houses beside us becoming closer and closer together, he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“I will not speak of it again.

Unless you wish it.

But I always think of what I should have said too late.

And this is what I should have said to you yesterday in your despair.”

“And what is that?”

I asked, content in his arms.

“You are worth a thousand babes, wife.”

He kissed my ear.

“That is what I should have said to you yesterday.

It is what I wanted to say.

But I did not have the words until hours later.”

I was without words for some time, but the silence was peaceful between us.

As we reached the outskirts of the city, I said, “I do not want to rejoin our friends.

Take me home.”

I wanted to die in his arms.

Midnight approached.

But morning came and I lived.

I awoke to Tabitha rumbling on my chest, Alric shuffling around the room.

I sat up, the cat sliding into my lap, mewling.

“What time is it?”

“Early still.

You have time to sleep if you wish,”

he answered me, pulling his tunic over his head, tucking it into his breeches.

He came to my side of the bed and sat on the edge, facing me a little.

“What is that look, Edith?”

I must have shown my surprise.

“I had a strange dream.”

He leaned in to kiss my forehead.

“You can sleep for another hour yet.”

After he left, I sat, unmoving, watching Tabitha knead my thighs methodically.

I had reasoned it out.

The night of The Turn of Trees, I had bargained with my goddess for three moons.

Last night had been the night of The Thawing, three moons exactly.

“What does this mean?”

I prayed aloud.

When there was no reply, I said, “I will ask again in your temple with a pricked hand.

I— I have lived the last few days in preparation of death.”

And now you must live with having loved him openly, she said.

I closed my eyes.

He had not returned my declaration but he had given me that smile, that first ever smile.

That flat gruffness had relaxed and stretched into something I could not believe I was lucky enough to see.

He had sat up and held me close, finding his own pleasure, kissing me and saying my name.

Last night, it had been enough, but now, if I were to live?

“Does my death come still?” I asked.

I have no answers.

I am not your childhood saint.

I never professed to know everything.

“And what advice do you have for your child?”

I was irritated with her now.

Stay wary.

Forces are at work.

I intercede on your behalf, girl.

“You have said that already.

So I should trust you blindly?”

I have never asked that of you.

She sounded disheartened.

I had known my death was coming and that had been easier to swallow than this new uncertainty.

Now, anything could happen and I had not prepared myself for that.

I had told my husband I loved him.

I had told my dearest friend her pregnancy brought me nothing but joy.

The first had not been returned and the second had been an adjustment of the truth.

And I now had to live with these words I had spoken.

I spent my day at work in the temple, the planting season well underway, farmers from up and down Tintar coming in asking for their fields to be blessed.

Hazel, Tuck and I took down nearly a hundred requests and the reasons why each property deserved a visit from the archpriest of earth or his staff.

At the midday meal, Hazel went on about how Cian would likely ordain me as a priestess soon.

I had been nearly a full four seasons in Tintar, practicing as an acolyte of earth.

She asked if she could host a celebration for me in her home, with her Gordon.

Tuck chimed in saying he agreed with Hazel and was excited for me, that I had shown much zeal and fidelity.

Another acolyte agreed saying she thought my scribing skills were the best of the staff.

At the end of the table, Cian looked perturbed, answering another priest’s comments with absent nods.

On my return to the temple after our luncheon, I saw my husband, looking disturbed, hands on hips, speaking to the Lady Vinia as I walked down the hall.

Indignation rose in me and I tripped in my steps, grabbing on to Tuck’s arm next to me to prevent falling.

The young man steadied me, not breaking in his telling me of a Sibbereen horse his family had purchased.

How dare she? I thought to myself.

How dare she continue to seek him out? Could she not let it rest? Could she not see what a predicament this put him in, both for his heart and his pride?

That night, when he slid into bed next to me, I pretended to be asleep.

I wanted to hold him to me, press myself against him, kiss him and try to elicit those three words.

But I was not myself.

I had lived a day longer than I was meant to live.

Two more days passed.

I spoke to my goddess, but she was either silent or arcane, her answers vexed and murky.

Unable to resist him, I let Alric have me twice in our bed, his touch eager and his kisses hungry.

His desire helped erase how rattled I was.

I wanted to ask him what that conversation with Vinia entailed, but I could not bring myself to do so.

“When will I die?”

I demanded again on the fourth morning after The Thawing.

Alric was already gone, readying recruits for Sealmouth.

I was again sitting in the bed with Tabitha near me, purring.

“You have to tell me,”

I said.

“I cannot live with this continual qualm over me.”

Come to Nyossa.

Leave the city.

I will provide for you.

You will live.

“But what happens to him? What about my family? You tell me nothing!”

Stay wary, girl.

They are coming.

“You have already said that.”

She did not respond.