I left my task and pushed through the split doors. She stood with Calix and, to my displeasure, the cobbler. Was he the reason for her unease?
Passing the unlit hearth, I drew my mate into my arms, disregarding Ruairc. Evera relaxed in my embrace, and one of her hands came to the back of my neck, her fingers brushing through my hair. I drew back and beheld her; the light from the open door illuminated the side of her face, paled her skin, and added to the contrast of her countless dappling freckles.
“What troubles you, love?” I asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“There are huntsmen in town,” Evera said, the warmth in her eyes fogging over.
For a moment, adrenaline coursed through my veins. Could Nox be among them? No, he didn’t dress like a huntsman. Evera would have no reason to pick him out of a crowd. The men she spoke of were more likely after a bounty on my head.
“They have one of the messengers with them,” she added.
That explained Calix clinging to Evera’s spare hand in a manner very unlike the boy. Did he, too, draw comfort from Evera’s presence? Surely not as I did—not on base instinct, not with the rawness of the magic of our bond—but perhaps on a different level. Children such as Calix were nearly always abandoned by their families when signs of their affliction became apparent. Cruel as it may seem, the only other choice was risking the rest of one’s family.
The reasons were unimportant, but I could understand his baser need for comfort from a woman when he had no mother. Every boy needed a mother; one to whom emotions could be laid bare… They were a place of safety when every other set of eyes on us expected stoic rigidness, fearlessness. Expected us to be a shield of defense, a stone of unwavering strength.
“Who do they have?” I asked Calix.
“Eaumond,” he said, his voice broken.
Sighing, I dropped to one knee and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. His indigo eyes held me, their orbs the color of the sea. There was a sadness to them, but they did not flicker at least. Again, I found myself struck by his restraint, his control over his magic, even when emotions weighed on him.
“Find your strength,” I told him, keeping my voice level. If it was a mother’s job to comfort, it was a father’s job to instill courage when it was needed.
Calix nodded and sniffled once before raising his chin, a new resolve to his expression.
When had I become fond of the child? When had I begun to care for him? Standing, I pondered this even as a flutter of pride rushed through me at his bravery.
“I want to help, however I can,” Ruairc said.
I’d nearly forgotten about the cobbler. The corners of my lips turned down as I addressed him, wrapping one arm at Evera’s waist as the other held Calix’s shoulder. The responding flex of Ruairc’s jaw and the deflection of his gaze spoke of his submission.
“Neir.” Evera’s voice was coaxing, comforting, a warming reminder of who she was to me, of the unique connection we shared that allowed her to detect my emotions. “I trust him.”
I offered a gruff sound of consideration, then nodded to Calix for him to take a seat at the central hearth before leaving the group to walk across the room to the bar. A knot was forming in my throat at the concept of Ruairc becoming privy to such fragile knowledge, and I needed a moment to consider. Why Evera wanted to draw him in, why she seemed more receptive to him than she had in the past, I could not guess. Those were questions for later, though.
At the bar, I poured three cups of whiskey, then took a considerate swallow from one of them. The split doors behind me swung, and Maerel came to stand beside me. The kitchen door creaked as her most recent dalliance slipped out.
“How do you plan to repay me for those drinks?”
“By preparing the morning meal, serving it, tending tables, and managing guests checking out while allowing you to stay abed with a recently arrived traveler all morning?” I offered.
She huffed, something between irritation and amusement, and retrieved her satchel from beneath the counter. “He was a disappointment, in truth.”
“Maerel,” I said, “it is nearly midday.”
Shrugging, she returned to the kitchen. I took the three drinks to the hearth and offered glasses to Evera and Ruairc. Studying Calix, the heels of his boots kicking the stone of the hearth as he sat at its edge, I took a sizable drink from my own glass and offered the half-filled cup to him.
The boy’s eyes widened, and a faint tug of a smile pulled at his lips as he took the glass from me. Suppressing my amusement at his reaction, I ruffled the black curls atop his head and leaned back against a table, facing Evera and Ruairc.
“What does he know?” I asked Evera, raising my chin to the cobbler.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Maerel, now cloaked and with her satchel hung over her shoulder, rejoined us in the main room and set me with a frown. “Must you do your conspiring here?”
“No one visits an inn this time of day,” I pointed out.
