Ginny Hartman Page 9

  “You failed my parents. That's who you failed.”

  “I'm sorry,” he mumbled, closing his eyes in an attempt to block out the guilt magnified by her blame. It didn't work.

  ***

  Rosalind watched Terric walk away from her as she hurled her angry words at him. She wanted to follow him and pound her fists into his back as she had done to his chest earlier, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. The man was all muscle; surely her blows didn't affect him in the least. Instead, she turned her back to him and walked away, fresh sobs bursting from her throat. She took two steps and crumpled to the ground in a heap, curling herself into a tight ball.

  As much as she spent the majority of her time at odds with her mother, she still loved her deeply. Regret consumed her as she thought of the last time she had seen her alive. She had argued with her over her rude treatment of Prince Samuel. Oh how she wished she could take that all back now, that she would have spent that precious time telling her how much she loved her instead.

  At least things with her father had been much less terse. Thinking of her father made her cries deepen. He had always been so tolerant of her. He spoiled her more than a father aught, but she adored him for it, adored him for his kind heart, his loving manner. And what of Colin? Did he know their parents were dead? Suddenly she felt an inexpressible desire to go to him, to mourn with him.

  She blinked the tears from her eyes, rubbing them with her hands before looking up. Small, delicate tendrils of red mist were curling before her face. For a moment she thought they were flames, and though she risked being burned, she couldn't stop herself from reaching for them.

  As soon as her fingers touched the weightless mist, her body jolted. She closed her eyes in shock and when she opened them, she was kneeling in front of Terric. She gasped, glancing over to the spot she had just been occupying, some thirty feet away. She looked at Terric, his wide eyes boring into hers.

  “What just happened?” he asked, clearly confused by her sudden appearance in front of him.

  Rosalind's voice shook, “I don't know. I was thinking of my brother, of how badly I wanted to be with him, and then, all of a sudden, I was here before you.” She grew nervous when Terric didn't say anything. “This has never happened before; I don't know how...I'm not a witch. I promise I'm not a witch.”

  Terric reached down and gently raised her from the ground, “Aye. I know that you are not a witch. But that,” he said, looking once more to where she had just come from, “was not normal.”

  Rosalind couldn't look at him as she spoke. Her emotions were strung much too tight and now this, this unexplainable occurrence was rattling the last of her already frayed nerves. “I saw the wisps again, the colorful mist I told you about. I decided to touch it and then, then I was here.”

  Terric cupped her face in his rough hands, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes. “I don't know what's going on and I can't explain the episodes you've been having, but I highly suggest that you don't touch those wisps again.”

  “Do you think I'm cursed?” she asked nervously, gnawing on her bottom lip, her grief momentarily forgotten.

  “Nay I do not. I think you are tired and emotional. Tonight we will stay in an inn so you can get some proper rest. I'm sorry for everything you have been through.”

  Rosalind heard his words and hoped he was right, hoped that this odd occurrence was merely a result of the strain she was under as of late, of the grief she was experiencing at the loss of her parents and nothing more. Thinking once more of her parents caused a fresh wave of tears to burst forth. Her whole body shook as she sobbed. Her parents were gone, she didn't know if she would ever see Colin again, she was being whisked off to stay at the house of strangers, and the man holding her could have prevented everything. She wanted to hate him but at that moment her grief overruled everything. Collapsing into his arms, she clung to his tunic and cried, anguished cries that spilled forth violently from her chest, but Terric just held her, occasionally brushing her hair back from her face in an oddly soothing gesture.

  Rosalind wasn't sure if it was hours that had passed when Aeden finally returned, or merely minutes. Logically, she knew it had to be longer than minutes, for his ride into the village would not have been that quick. She hadn't the strength to feign cordiality. Instead she burrowed her face into Terric's tunic in hopes of blocking out the world. Terric kept one strong arm around her waist, the action quite possibly being the only thing that kept her from sinking to the ground below. She felt comfortable in his embrace, but she wasn't about to analyze why it felt so natural. The conflicting emotions she felt towards him were exhausting.

  Aeden dismounted and walked over to where they were standing. He addressed Terric, talking to him as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He handed Terric a satchel of clothing, which he took with his one free hand. After some final words in parting, he said his farewells, mounted his destrier, and galloped off towards the south.

  When Rosalind could no longer hear the horse’s hooves beating against the ground, Terric gently peeled her from him. “Aeden brought us some clothing. As soon as we get dressed, we need to be on our way.”

  Leafing through the bag, he pulled out a brown woolen cloak complete with a hood. He wrapped the itchy garment around her shoulders, tying it at her neck before reaching back and draping the hood over her head. It was large and would easily hide her face completely. Next he pulled a tunic out of the sack. It appeared to be made of the same itchy wool as her cloak. As he began pulling his own defender's tunic off over his head, Rosalind looked away, embarrassed by his immodesty, yet instantly intrigued. She wondered what his body looked like beneath his shirt.

  She turned back after she was sure she had given him ample time to change, but was still regretful when she noticed his torso was completely covered. It was odd seeing him without the black uniform of a defender, and though his new clothing was supposed to make him look like a commoner, she thought it would take more than a drab tunic to accomplish that feat.

  Terric pulled the last article of clothing from the bag, a gray cloak for himself. He quickly donned the garment before stuffing his own tunic and the satchel into the saddlebag. Turning to Rosalind he said, “It's time for us to go. Keep your hood on at all times; we can't have anyone recognizing you.”

  She nodded silently before allowing him to assist her into the saddle. Then they were off.

  Chapter 12

  Forgiveness

  The combination of unfamiliar, itchy clothing and the rare appearance of the sun made the journey uncomfortable. Terric was sure that Rosalind had to be annoyed with the course material of the cloak, for surely nothing but the finest of material had ever touched her satiny skin. He, on the other hand, didn't mind the tunic, for his chainmail put a barrier between his skin and the fabric, making it not as bothersome. It was the heavy cloak covering his head that irritated him so. He hated having his vision blocked by the thick folds of fabric, hated the way it made it nearly impossible to get a fresh breath of air. Even the sun failed to lift his moods.

  It didn't help that Rosalind now hated him, blamed him for her parents’ deaths. It was the first time in his life that he felt guilty for his actions. He had to keep reminding himself that it truly had been out of his control, that his foremost duty was to King Cedric, and he had been successful in defending him. It helped assuage the guilt slightly, but not completely.

  They made good time on their journey, pausing only briefly to stretch their legs, give Stephen a rest from their weight, and eat a few of the remaining food supplies left. Rosalind hardly ate a thing, but after much encouragement from Terric, agreed to at least eat a handful of nuts and a few dried figs. He knew it wouldn't be enough to sustain her all day and had promised himself to get her to a warm inn before nightfall so she could have a hot meal as well.

  Terric was grateful that he knew Darth so well, making their journey that much less complicated. He was familiar with the route he was currently taking to his
childhood home and knew that there was a cozy inn about half way there that would provide the perfect place for them to stay.

  The sun had just set in the sky, causing a golden glow to cast itself over the valley, when Terric realized that they would soon be approaching the inn. The day had seemed long, the companionship between him and Rosalind tense. They had hardly said two words to each other all day. But now, he knew he needed to speak with her, to inform her of his plan. He reigned in his mount and leaned his head down so she could hear him speak, “We are fast approaching the inn I have planned to stop at for the night. It's important that we get to our room undetected. You will have to pretend to be asleep. I will carry you in, keeping your cloak covering you so the innkeeper will not know it is you. Do you understand?”

  Rosalind surprised him by speaking more words to him than she had said all day, “If we ride through the night, we can get there sooner. You can be rid of me and be on your way to Peltis.”

  Though he was anxious to get back to King Cedric, he wasn't as anxious to be rid of her, as she had put it. But, he wasn't going to confess that little detail to her. “It would not be wise to ride all night. Stephen has already been pushed to his limits these past few days, he needs his rest. As do you. You will have a warm meal before retiring for the night in a real bed.” He was pleased when she didn't argue.

  It was dusk as they approached the inn. Terric slid from his saddle with Rosalind still in his arms. He held her firmly to his chest, cradling her in his arms. She was so light and he felt so protective of her. He made sure her hood was completely covering her face. “Don't move. Remember, the innkeeper must think you are asleep.”

  Playing her part well, she didn't even respond. Terric walked into the inn where a stodgy man stood behind a worn wood desk. His head was bald with only some faint patches of hair on the sides of his head above his ears.

  The man glanced up at them as Terric approached. “Good eve to ye. Are ye here for a room?”

  “Aye.”

  “Will ye just need one room for ye and yer...”

  “Wife. Aye, one room will suffice.”

  The man nodded, all three of his chins jiggling as a result. He waited while Terric managed to dig a coin from his pouch, setting it down on the rough, worn desk. As soon as the man snatched up the coin, he stepped from behind the desk to show them to their room.

  Terric followed the man down the hall. When he opened the door, Terric entered the room. The man stepped in long enough to set a candle on the only piece of furniture in the room besides the bed, a small dresser. Terric thanked the man, who shut the door firmly behind him as he left. As soon as they were alone, he walked to the bed and reluctantly set Rosalind down. As soon as she was free from his embrace, she pulled the heavy cloak off of her and inhaled deeply. Her hair crackled with static caused by the dreadful material. He quickly removed his own cloak as well, throwing it on the end of the bed.

  Terric walked to the small fireplace and bent to light a fire. He wanted the room to be as comfortable as possible for Rosalind. When the fire was roaring in the hearth, he stood and turned to her. She was sitting on the edge of the mattress, watching him intently.

  Running one hand over the back of his neck he said, “I'm going to go fetch us some supper from the kitchen. Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?”

  Rosalind shook her head no, but otherwise didn't say a word. Turning, Terric left on his errand, anxious to consume a real meal for the first time in what felt like ages.

  ***

  Rosalind's eyes were trained on the door that Terric had just exited. She had spent the first part of their ride that morning still mourning for her parents, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. She had been grateful for the hood of her cloak as it disguised her display of emotion. Not that she cared if Terric knew she was crying. But now she felt numb, hollow. She wasn't sure there were any more tears left in her eyes to shed.

  Terric wasn't gone long. Her gaze was still absently trained on the door when he entered, carrying two steaming bowls of stew in his hands, a long loaf of crusty bread tucked under one arm. The food smelled delicious, and her stomach grumbled in response, though she had no desire to ingest the food. Terric set his bowl of stew on the dresser before delivering her bowl to her along with the bread. She timidly took them both, but refrained from eating. She watched as he retrieved his bowl and went and sat on the floor, his back propped against the wall as he eagerly began eating the stew.

  Rosalind felt guilty watching him eat sitting on the floor. She wasn't sure why it bothered her, for surely he had eaten in worse conditions before, but it did nonetheless. Maybe it bothered her because, despite the fact that she verbally blamed him for her parents’ death, he still treated her with kindness, with respect.

  Pushing the stirrings of guilt at her treatment of him deep down inside of her, she took a bite of the stew in an attempt to distract herself from thinking of him. It tasted even better than it smelled, and soon she found that she had nearly finished the entire bowl. When she finally looked up from her dish, Terric was staring at her, a bemused smile on his face, his already empty bowl sitting next to him on the floor.

  She reached for the bread, breaking the loaf in half before walking towards him and offering him his share.

  “Thank you,” was all he said, as he took her offering. She resumed sitting on the bed and nibbled on the bread in silence.

  When she had finished eating her fill, she laid the uneaten portion of the loaf down in her lap and asked, “Where will you sleep tonight?”

  “Right here,” he answered, patting the floor beside him.

  Again, guilt tugged at her heart, but there was nothing she could do. It would be too improper to offer him to share her bed, and she knew he was too noble to allow her to sleep on the floor if she offered the bed to him. She watched the shadows caused from the fire dance across his face in the darkness. Finally, he turned his back to her and stretched out on the floor, one of his arms going beneath his head to act as a pillow.

  Rosalind knew that she couldn't let him sleep that way. She grabbed one of the pillows from the bed as well as his cloak that was still laying haphazardly on the mattress. Walking over to where he lay, she handed the pillow to him, ignoring the surprised look on his face before covering his body with the cloak. It was a poor substitute for a proper bed, but it was the best she could give him. Silently she walked back to the bed and crawled beneath the covers, anxious to fall asleep and escape the nightmarish reality of her day.

  Sleep, however, eluded Rosalind as she lay in the center of the small bed, the thin, lone blanket pulled up to her chin. She kept replaying the moment Terric had told her of her parents’ death in her mind. The shock of his words had seemed to suck the life right out of her. And though she felt drained, completely exhausted of emotion, she couldn't seem to sleep. She rolled onto her side, propping her head up on one hand as she glanced over to where Terric was sleeping. His back was still turned towards her, his figure unmoving. She envied him as he slept. She watched his strong back lifting slightly with every breath he took, the movement eventually lulling her into a fitful slumber.

  Rosalind dreamed that she was at Brantonwall Castle. An urgent matter had prompted her to seek out her father in the tower's council room. She approached the closed door, but instead of knocking, she went directly in, only the room was empty. Just as she was about to turn and leave, a lone figure stepped out of the shadows. She startled; the man's unexpected presence had made her heart leap. She tentatively walked backwards towards the door, but with each step she took, the man also stepped closer until he was standing directly in front of her. Reaching one hand up, he removed the black hood that was obstructing his face. Rosalind gasped, it was Terric!

  But Terric's eyes weren't blue, they were black. He reached for her, both hands flanking her face as he pulled her forcefully to him. His cold lips overtook her as he kissed her roughly. She was surprised that the feel of his lips was so
unwelcoming, for she had fantasized about kissing them more than once and they had never felt so cold, so hard during her imaginings.

  Finally, he pulled back, his handsome face hardening into a scowl. “I killed your parents,” he said slowly, deliberately, showing no sign of remorse as he enunciated each word.

  Rosalind began screaming as she turned to run from him, as fast as she was able, praying frantically that he wouldn't follow and kill her too. Running down the castle's corridor, she stumbled over the hem of her dress, hitting her head against the stone wall as she fell, knocking her unconscious. As she lay there in a state of oblivion, she once more found herself praying, praying that Terric wouldn't come after her or, that if he did, she wouldn't feel any pain.

  As she came to, a soothing calm washed over her body and her limbs tingled with warmth. She tried to open her eyes but failed, the action seemingly harder than it ought to be. Trying not to get frustrated, she attempted to open her eyes once more. This time she was successful, but instead of seeing the gray dimness of the hall, her eyes focused on a shimmering swirl of colors, twisting lively before her face.

  Forgetting everything but the iridescent wisps before her, Rosalind reached up to touch them, to see if they held any substance. The minute her fingers trailed through the smoke-like mist, she felt her body jolt followed by the rushing of wind on both sides of her as if she was being moved somewhere at an alarming pace. She closed her eyes tightly, the odd sensation almost making her ill.

  When she braved opening her eyes, she was startled to see that she was no longer in the castle's corridor; instead she was huddled on the floor in front of a fire in a small, dark room. Her breathing was labored as she looked around, her eyes adjusting to the blackness of the night. Rosalind could still feel her heart racing in her chest as she slowly realized she was in the room at the inn where Terric had brought her.