Cenric and his men took turns rowing. The wind was against them, and they kept the sails furled. Cenric took part in the first shift while Edric made sure all the goods were properly secured.
They rowed for over an hour at a steady pace until Edric and the next group of men stepped up to take their spots at the oars. “Wind’s not too bad. We should make fair time.”
“Don’t tempt Llyr, my friend.”
Edric shrugged. “What interest does Llyr have in making our lives difficult? If I was a god, I’d be too busy to meddle with the likes of me.”
Cenric handed his oars over to Edric as other men did the same. Cenric accepted water from the communal barrel, ladling it out to take several gulps. In summer, the heat would havethem all endlessly thirsty, but right now, the cold helped stave off thirst.
Several men brought out dice as many did during the boredom between shifts. Cenric almost went to join them, but his attention fell on Brynn.
She sat beneath the shade of the shelter. She and her maid each held a boot in one hand, working something into the soles, but neither held a needle. Snapper sprawled a few paces from Brynn’s side, napping in the sunshine.
Cenric came closer as the ship glided along. Seagulls swooped in around the vessel, probably hoping they were fishermen.
Brynn glanced up and acknowledged him with a slight incline of her head, then went back to work.
Cenric glanced over to his men at the oars. Daven, a young man just a few years Kalen’s senior, was barefoot.
The space on the deck beside Brynn was unoccupied, so Cenric sat. He kept just enough distance between them so he wouldn’t touch her by accident. Her maid continued working on her other side, mute and head down.
Snapper rose, ambling over to plop himself down against Cenric’s side. He leaned against Cenric, tail thumping on the deck as Cenric rubbed his side.Good pets,Snapper sent, shifting appreciatively.Good pets.
As Cenric watched Brynn, she held a leather patch over the holes in the bottom of the boot. He studied the movement of her hands—deft and skilled. Her fingers moved mindlessly, easily. Whatever she was doing, she had done it many times before.
She massaged the sole of the boot and the patch. As she worked, the new leather seemed to meld with the old. The patches melted into the holes, fitting smoothly and thickening the leather before his eyes. Dark seams marked where she had worked, but otherwise the boots appeared as good as new. Theyshould work as well as new, at least. Her maid did much the same thing, but with considerably less confidence and speed.
Cenric had heard of sorceresses healing bodies, but not shoes. “I didn’t think sorceresses wasted their talents on boots.”
Brynn shook her head. “Your man asked me what sorceresses could do. I mentioned mending things. He asked me to show him.”
Cenric didn’t know how he felt about his men treating his wife like their personal cobbler. She would be the lady of Ombra and had a pedigree that should have earned respect. At the same time, Ombra was not the sort of place where anyone was spared from work.
“Will these boots be imbued with any special properties now?” Cenric asked. “Silent movement? The ability to walk on hot coals, perhaps?”
Brynn shook her head, not responding to his humor. “ThekaI’ve infused into them should make them more durable, but that’s it.”
“Hmm.” Cenric rested an elbow on his knee, still watching her. Several golden strands of hair had worked free of her braid and lightly caressed her neck.
Brynn swallowed, probably aware of his attention. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For last night.”
Cenric wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t want anyone to know they hadn’t consummated the marriage, but it was hardly something that could be proven either way.
Edric probably suspected things hadn’t gone well, but he knew better than to press the issue.
“You seem close with your dog.” Brynn’s tone was careful, like she wasn’t sure how he might take it.
“Snapper is a dyrehund,” Cenric explained. “They were gifts to my family from the goddess Morgi.”
Snapper’s tail wagged as he recognized his own name.
“Morgi is your patron?”
“She is,” Cenric confirmed. “Her other gifts run through my family. On the father’s side, at least.”
Morgi’s gifts passed from father to child, unlike Eponine’s gifts, which passed from mother to child.
“Do you know of my family’s gifts?” Cenric thumped Snapper’s ribs as the dog stretched out beside him.
