“Reeve, I’m trying to help—”
There was another crashing through the woods, and both spun toward it. Reeve was quick to retrieve Sid as Celeste’s fingers went to her locket, but there was a human voice this time calling over the breaking branches. “This way!”
Reeve straightened, but Celeste sidled herself so close to him that she was half hidden by his arm. His heart beat harder, chest swelling. He would have sheathed Sid, but if she were looking for protection, if she suddenly needed him, he was going to indeed protect.
From the depth of the forest came a small group of men, bows and spears in hand. The man in the lead quickly took in the scene, and then he grinned widely at the two. “Our work’s been finished for us, gentlemen. Marvelous take down,” he said with a sincere lilt as he came closer, then grimaced, “if a little messy.”
Reeve noted the arrows then, at least half a dozen already sticking out of the boar’s back. “You were hunting this creature?”
“Sure were. And now we’ll feed the village for a week, provided the meat isn’t sullied.” The blond man gestured to the others. “Got the rope? We might have to hack it up to get it back to Halfrida’s.”
One of the other men pulled out a knife from his satchel, and the rest gathered around with weapons and twine. The blond man stepped away from the butchering, and Reeve followed, Celeste staying so close she bumped into his back.
The hunter’s smile wasn’t unkind, but there was amusement in it, perhaps too much for someone who had so recently been pursuing such a deadly creature. Light eyes took in the two of them. “How did the, uh…thebakinggo?”
It was then Reeve recognized the man from the circle, the one he’d asked about the sieve and Celeste had, predictably, lied to. “My last loaf of bread was deemed light and fluffy,” he said so flatly the man didn’t seem to know how to respond.
“Well, all right then. It seems the two of you are sticking around Briarwyke, eh? Name’s Edwin Fitzroy, but you can just call me Fitz, everyone else does. I must say, fine job you did there, sir, though you’ll have to admit we weakened it a bit. The Briarwyke hunting brigade would be pleased to have you.” He held out a hand to Reeve.
“I didn’t kill it—she did.” Reeve jerked his thumb over his shoulder where Celeste had made herself as small as possible.
“Did she?” Fitz’s too-pleased smile shifted subtly, brows raising. “Well, mighty fine work, my lady.” He pulled back the hand Reeve had ignored. It wasn’t terribly polite to ignore a handshake, but Reeve’s chivalry was occupied elsewhere.
The man’s gaze slid downward, lingering on Celeste’s exposed legs through the messy tear up her skirt, and then he gave a small bow of his head. Reeve was run through with the sudden desire to sever that head from his shoulders. Sid pulsed in his hands, and he sheathed the sword. He forgave himself the impropriety of not shaking Fitz’s hand, and instead congratulated himself on his own restraint.
“I only distracted it,” said Celeste, her voice small, and Reeve felt one of her hands press into his back as if asking him to say no more.
“Well, I hope the two of you will join us tonight at the Dew Drop. By sundown I’m sure Halfrida will have cooked up something superb with all this meat, and you’ve both more than earned your share. Might want to clean yourselves up a little first.” He winked, and Reeve wanted to pluck out his eye.
“We will,” Celeste chirped, and that hand on Reeve’s back gave him a gentle shove.
They were moving back the way they’d come, quicker than Reeve expected, but he glared over his shoulder to get a last look at Fitz and grimaced. He had never felt animosity so quickly and ardently for someone who showed no signs of being villainous.By Valcord, he thought and rubbed at his face,forgive me. But when they were out of earshot, he still felt the urge to say something unkind. “Did you sense additional danger? Something amiss with that man?”
Celeste shook her head.
“Then why are we rushing away?”
She gave him that look, that one that said,you know why, dummy, which vexed him. “Reeve, you’rebleeding.”
And then that vexation quickly ebbed. “Oh.”
She continued with her gentle pushing, her other hand coming to his elbow as she led him back to the temple as if he could not do so on his own. The cut really wasn’tthatbad, but he said nothing, instead listening intently to the anxious muttering she did under her breath. This was always how it began every time Reeve was worried over by someone else, and he steeled himself for the chastisement he was about to receive.
It was not a long journey back, especially with her urging, and Reeve allowed himself to be turned swiftly away from the main hall and through the temple’s library. Beyond it, there was what looked like an acolyte’s hall full of small bed chambers, but it couldn’t be as it was the place Celeste retired to each night. She brought him to the bathing chamber at the corridor’s head, the tiled room somewhat familiar to the one he and his brothers shared at the Bendcrest temple.
Celeste called up water through the arcane faucet and rinsed her hands before hurrying around the cramped space and collecting linens, a basin, and a jar of oil. Her face was creased with unease as she wordlessly guided him to sit on the edge of the bathing pool. Cleanliness was important to Valcord, so acolyte baths always had an overly large tub, and the chamber smelled of the medicinal herbs he was used to. But even with the homey scent, he couldn’t relax, knowing he was in for it.
Celeste uncorked the jar she found and filled his senses with mint. It stung at his nose and his brain, a sharp reminder of every scrape and the scolding that came with their treatment. She put the jar aside and lifted his arm to carefully peel away the makeshift bandage, her muttering injected with gasps and groans, and she dipped clean linens into the water.
He looked up at her face, her deepening frown and her pinched brows. There was none of the exasperation that usually laid itself over the features of whoever tended to Reeve’s wounds, nor were there any of the sharp words telling him to think for once in his life before barreling into danger. Instead she was whispering things like, “oh, dear,” and, “poor thing,” and it took him a too long moment to realize she meant him—hewas the poor thing she was concerned over.
That was, of course, all wrong—he had made a mess of himself, he was wasting her time, and she should be chastising him for it all. But Celeste did none of that. She only worried and with such sincerity and eyes so glassy that it pierced his chest deeper than any priestess’s words about being clumsy and stupid and a danger to everyone else.
Guilt overcame him so quickly that Reeve dropped his free hand onto her wrist. “You needn’t worry. This is only a shallow wound.”
She froze under his touch, her tenderly working fingers going still as she peered up at him with big, unblinking eyes, silver in the dim light of the bath chamber. “You don’t want me to…”
He did. He wanted her to so fiercely, despite not even knowing whatitwas, that he didn’t have the words to tell her.
