should.
I tramped back into the cottage, feeling an absurd notion to knock softly on the doorframe before I entered. Shaken by that terrible nauseating magical interlude, I did, the wood warm and giving under my knuckles. I were grateful, and, as Hammer had said, I were respectful. The cottage had wanted us. After feeling the protection it seemed to be giving us from the outside world, I would not offend it for naught under the sky.
Hammer were awake when I walked in smelling of leaves and crisp grass, but he had not left the bed. I circled the bed with a glass of hot tea (I’d left the pot to boil over the trivet) flavored with rose hips and some honey I’d wished up in the cupboard. (It seemed to respond to the things I wished for Hammer. I’d longed for cream this morning, and there had been no sign of it. I’d wished for honey, since I knew Hammer liked it, and there it were.)
He watched me coming with wary eyes. “I had a notion you’d try and leave,” he said softly, and I blinked.
“Weren’t trying to leave,” I told him, tilting my head a little. Had never been no signs that Hammer were witchy. Maybe it were simply the house. “I tested the boundaries of the magic. It told me when I found them, that’s a certainty. But I didn’t want to leave you. Just wanted to know where we were.”
Hammer’s lips turned up in a sleepy smile. “That’s you, Eirn. Always trying to put a name to something, explain it away. Even I know magic and your science don’t mix.”
I set the tea down and put my hand to his head. I swallowed hard and blinked back tears. Sweaty, yes, but cool. The fever had broken. His body were sweating out the poison of infection, and that were why he lay so still.
I swallowed again, and went to give him his tea but my hand shook so badly I couldn’t lift it from the end table. “I wouldn’t leave you,” I said, licking the spilt tea off my hand. Now my voice were shaking too. “I wouldn’t,” I repeated. I had to say something. Oh gods… gods of magic, gods of motion, I had been so afraid.
Suddenly his hand came up and captured my wrist. I stared at the two hands—Hammer’s were broad and scarred and hard and capable, and mine were nimble and clever and long. Carefully—probably because he were weak and couldn’t move fast—he wove his fingers in with mine and squeezed.
“Eirn?”
Reluctantly I looked at him and used the heel of my other hand to clear my tear-scalded eyes. “You scared me ball-less, Hammer. Gods….” I took a deep breath, and then another, and then he gave my hand a tug, and I sank to my knees in front of the bed.
“No worries,” he muttered. “You wouldn’t leave me, I don’t plan to leave you. Right?”
I nodded and buried my face into the sheet next to his head and tried to wipe the tears off there. He let go of my hand and turned to his side so he could bury his hand in my hair and stroke my head until my shoulders stopped shaking, and I were still. Eventually, his voice, gruff and weak, penetrated my fog.
“Come on up and lie next me,” he ordered, and I kicked off my boots and did that while he scooted over. We lay there, face-to-face for a few moments and he raised his thumb to wipe my cheeks.
“Running were hard,” he murmured. “You were right. This place seems safe. Let’s be safe for a while, right?”
I nodded. “Right,” I whispered, but my throat were swollen, and my head were clogged, and I couldn’t manage much else.
“No. Close your eyes. When you wake up, it’ll be lunch time, and you can tell me a story.”
“You like stories, Hammer?” He’d been apprenticed young, had spent a lot of time in the nearby tavern when I were sitting with the other boys by the fireplace at the orphanage.
“I do.” He yawned then, the course of his healing taking over us both. “I always wished that book of yours were stories instead of seeds. Thought maybe you’d like me more if you could see me as a prince instead of a
I tramped back into the cottage, feeling an absurd notion to knock softly on the doorframe before I entered. Shaken by that terrible nauseating magical interlude, I did, the wood warm and giving under my knuckles. I were grateful, and, as Hammer had said, I were respectful. The cottage had wanted us. After feeling the protection it seemed to be giving us from the outside world, I would not offend it for naught under the sky.
Hammer were awake when I walked in smelling of leaves and crisp grass, but he had not left the bed. I circled the bed with a glass of hot tea (I’d left the pot to boil over the trivet) flavored with rose hips and some honey I’d wished up in the cupboard. (It seemed to respond to the things I wished for Hammer. I’d longed for cream this morning, and there had been no sign of it. I’d wished for honey, since I knew Hammer liked it, and there it were.)
He watched me coming with wary eyes. “I had a notion you’d try and leave,” he said softly, and I blinked.
“Weren’t trying to leave,” I told him, tilting my head a little. Had never been no signs that Hammer were witchy. Maybe it were simply the house. “I tested the boundaries of the magic. It told me when I found them, that’s a certainty. But I didn’t want to leave you. Just wanted to know where we were.”
Hammer’s lips turned up in a sleepy smile. “That’s you, Eirn. Always trying to put a name to something, explain it away. Even I know magic and your science don’t mix.”
I set the tea down and put my hand to his head. I swallowed hard and blinked back tears. Sweaty, yes, but cool. The fever had broken. His body were sweating out the poison of infection, and that were why he lay so still.
I swallowed again, and went to give him his tea but my hand shook so badly I couldn’t lift it from the end table. “I wouldn’t leave you,” I said, licking the spilt tea off my hand. Now my voice were shaking too. “I wouldn’t,” I repeated. I had to say something. Oh gods… gods of magic, gods of motion, I had been so afraid.
Suddenly his hand came up and captured my wrist. I stared at the two hands—Hammer’s were broad and scarred and hard and capable, and mine were nimble and clever and long. Carefully—probably because he were weak and couldn’t move fast—he wove his fingers in with mine and squeezed.
“Eirn?”
Reluctantly I looked at him and used the heel of my other hand to clear my tear-scalded eyes. “You scared me ball-less, Hammer. Gods….” I took a deep breath, and then another, and then he gave my hand a tug, and I sank to my knees in front of the bed.
“No worries,” he muttered. “You wouldn’t leave me, I don’t plan to leave you. Right?”
I nodded and buried my face into the sheet next to his head and tried to wipe the tears off there. He let go of my hand and turned to his side so he could bury his hand in my hair and stroke my head until my shoulders stopped shaking, and I were still. Eventually, his voice, gruff and weak, penetrated my fog.
“Come on up and lie next me,” he ordered, and I kicked off my boots and did that while he scooted over. We lay there, face-to-face for a few moments and he raised his thumb to wipe my cheeks.
“Running were hard,” he murmured. “You were right. This place seems safe. Let’s be safe for a while, right?”
I nodded. “Right,” I whispered, but my throat were swollen, and my head were clogged, and I couldn’t manage much else.
“No. Close your eyes. When you wake up, it’ll be lunch time, and you can tell me a story.”
“You like stories, Hammer?” He’d been apprenticed young, had spent a lot of time in the nearby tavern when I were sitting with the other boys by the fireplace at the orphanage.
“I do.” He yawned then, the course of his healing taking over us both. “I always wished that book of yours were stories instead of seeds. Thought maybe you’d like me more if you could see me as a prince instead of a
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