“Promise you’ll return to the fire,” Niel said raggedly, “and I will not kill him. Today.”
“Or tomorrow,” she demanded.
“Today,” he repeated.
“Whatever happened to hating cruel and violent men who abuse their power?” Ayla whispered. A vigorous shiver ran through her from the cold.
“Damn it, woman, you cannotbeout here,” Niel said, his voice rising with each word. “You’re sick. You aren’tdressed.” He was screaming now. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Ayla flinched. He seemed to realize it the moment she did. Niel stumbled back a step, his breath a sharp exhale, his face falling. For a moment he stared at her, mouth open, hands flexing.
He had sworn not to yell at her in anger.
It hadn’t taken him long to break his oath. She wondered if he’d bother honoring the punishment, or if it had all been a lie.
Niel turned abruptly and hauled the prisoner up by one hand. The Ashbrin knight rose clumsily, his eyes on Ayla.
“Come,” Niel seethed, his jaw tilted towards the wounded knight to indicate who he was talking to. “That’s twice I try, and twice I fail, Bradhan.”
“Thank you, Lady,” the Ashbrin knight called to Ayla as Niel jammed a stick into the wounded knight’s hand to use as a cane. “Maker grant you grace.”
She hugged herself for warmth and watched as Niel hauled the other knight’s arm around his shoulders to help him inside. An odd act, given he’d been about to kill Bradhan. They limped towards the door, passing her, and then paused.
She could hear Niel muttering something.
“Lady Blackfell,” the Ashbrin knight called. “I’m… to ask if you’ll go inside now, and warm yourself.”
“Yes,” she answered quietly.
The two men moved off again. She followed at a distance, barely able to feel her slippered feet as they sunk into the snow. Ayla was shaking violently by the time she reached the castle door. It had swung closed behind the knights. She tugged it open an inch before the wind ripped it from her hands and slammed it back shut. Shivering, Ayla grabbed the handle tighter. With a cry she yanked it open and managed to stumble inside.
Niel was handing the prisoner off to one of his soldiers. His eyes found Ayla instantly as she entered the window-lined corridor. As she tottered forward, he strode towards her. He stopped a foot away and silently offered his gloved hand to her.
“You really aren’t going to talk to me?” she managed, her teeth chattering around the words.
He beckoned with his fingers, his mouth pressed tight and his brow furrowed with what she could only assume was frustration.
“I can walk,” Ayla said. She took a step and promptly began to crumble, catching herself against the wall. “Ah. Never mind.”
She was in his arms in an instant, staring up at his hard jaw as the knight took the stairs two at a time, hauling her swiftly back up the castle. She didn’t struggle this time, though she was fairly certain she ought to.
The door to her bedchamber was shut, but not latched. He kicked it open with her in his arms, and crossed to the fireplace. Setting Ayla down in front of the hearth, Niel dragged the snow-laden slippers off her feet and threw them across the room. They made a wetthwackas they smacked, hard, into the stone wall.
“I think we’ve been here before,” she joked as ten thousand pins seemed to stab into her feet and legs at once from the fire’s heat. Niel gave her a flat look, tugged one of the heavy, quilted blankets from the bed, and threw it over her like he was casting a net. The blanket thumped over her head, muffling her in soft darkness. With a startled huff, Ayla clawed her way out from under it.
The room was empty, the door swinging shut.
She was still mulling over what had happened ten minutes later, when the door swung abruptly back open to reveal a surly, silent knight holding a steaming cup of tea, which he set on the edge of the hearth beside her before retreating in silence again.
The House of Ashbrin
Ayla lingered in front of the fire until her hair was finally dry and the tea was long gone. Niel had not returned. She wondered if she ought to find the prisoner, but she was exhausted in mind and body, and Niel had promised not to kill the man that day.
She dressed slowly in thick clothes and decided to see about borrowing a new book. She’d already finished two of the ones she’d taken, a romantic history about a marriage between a noble lady and one of the immortal Hulder, back in the days of Old Enar, and an account about a man who survived a shipwreck off the shore of Jet Isle. Ayla had also determined that a third book was not to her liking. It had been a knight’s adventure so implausible Ayla thought it was likely only to be enjoyed by young boys who’d seen even less of the world than she had.
That still left two more books to try. But now that she’d become reacquainted with the pleasure of words, she didn’t want to risk them running low.
It surely had nothing to do with wondering what Niel was doing.
