Memory's Wake (19 page)

Inside the musty room at Elders Bridge Inn, Eloryn looked from the closed door to Memory, confused. Memory shrugged and skittered straight to the roaring fire.

“Oh. My. God. This is so good, you have to get over here.” Memory tore her wet dress off and stepped out of it so all she wore was a scant black shift and petticoat. She turned herself around in front of the flames.

Eloryn fumbled to undo the clasps of her dress with cold, numb fingers, and soon dropped it to the floor. She tried to not feel self conscious so undressed. Her attire matched Memory’s, only in ivory. She looked around the small room for a space to hang the dresses so the fire would dry them. A modest sized bed with age-faded blankets filled one end of the room. A covered bowl on a table let out a small, tantalizing waft of steam, fragrant with thyme and pepper. It was surrounded by a stack of smaller pottery bowls, cups and a large flagon. Nothing to wear anywhere.

Memory peeled the top blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She tugged the next layer free and handed it to Eloryn when she joined her near the fire.

“Togas it is. Are we decent enough yet to let Roen in, or should we leave him waiting a bit longer?”

“I’m sure he had good reason to keep us waiting as he did.” Eloryn muttered, remembering the way he had grinned when he pulled the barmaid close to him, putting his face into her hair. “But maybe, maybe just a little longer.” She felt wicked, but Memory gave an encouraging grin. She smiled back, and they jiggled the cold out in front of the fire, a haze of steam lifting from them as their petticoats dried.

Eloryn felt well and truly thawed before they invited Roen back inside. He made no comment at the time it had taken them, just took a seat by the food and served some creamy broth into bowls. He took none for himself. Memory and Eloryn sat on the bed, soup bowls cradled in their laps, looking at Roen with wry expectation. As his eyes passed over her, Eloryn shifted and pulling her sheet tightly closed.

“Princess, I am sorry you suffered so much waiting for me.”

Memory cleared her throat.

“My apologies to you too, Memory. Once I’d entered the inn, there was reason I had to stay so long,” Roen said, his voice low. “It is not what you think. I went in to book lodgings, and overheard men at the bar bragging. They said they were Thayl’s men, hunters, who controlled a mighty dragon that does their bidding.”

Fear stabbed at Eloryn, a feeling she hadn’t grown used to no matter how often she’d felt it since leaving her safe home. “Could they have tracked us here already?”

“I worried the same thing. Having overheard them, I thought it wouldn’t be wise to leave again too quickly. I didn’t want to lead them to you, or appear more suspicious than I already did.” Roen indicated to his torn and muddied clothing. “There were but three I saw at the bar. I didn’t recognize them, nor they me. So I stayed, made pretence of being social and tried to find out what I could while I was there.”

“And what information did Miss Frisky Fingers have for you?” Memory pouted through a mouth full of soup.

“She was nothing but my excuse to leave.” A muscle jumped in Roen’s jaw and he looked at the floor. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I spent my time inside listening in on the hunters and drinking with an older man, a traveler from Farwall in the north, who knew some lore about dragons.”

“The dragon isn’t here, is it?” Memory paused from eating for just a moment.

“I don’t believe so, but the man from Farwall had opinion on how the hunters are able to give orders to the beast,” Roen told them. “He said they use a magic flute. With it, even if the beast is far away they can call it.”

Eloryn swallowed. The very men who knew her appearance and her connection to Alward, the men who were hunting for her, were right here, and could call the dragon to them at any moment. “Shouldn’t we leave, be away from here before they find us?”

Roen put a hand out in a calming gesture. He met her eyes until she stilled, then looked away. “I think it better we stay. To flee a paid room at this hour would only arouse suspicions. It could put you in more danger. They know what you both look like, so we will keep you hidden in here until they have moved on. No one at the inn has seen you. I will keep you safe and keep watch on them.”

“I don’t know. Even if we are safe, any time we spend here lessens our chances to rescue Alward. Shouldn’t we travel on to the Wizards’ Council right away?” Eloryn tried to keep her voice steady.

Memory looked at her with an exaggerated frown. “But I just warmed up again! Also, no clothes.”

“At least one night, Princess, so that we can recover and make better time travelling tomorrow,” Roen said.

“It’ll be OK.” Memory bumped her shoulder against Eloryn’s and wiped the last of the soup from her bowl with a finger. Eloryn looked down into hers and realized she hadn’t even touched it. She put it back on the table. She didn’t have the stomach for it. Memory grabbed the abandoned bowl and kept eating.

“If you think it’s best, then we’ll stay,” Eloryn said.

Roen nodded grimly. He lifted the flagon and poured three cupfuls. “Here, I thought there might be some nerves that would need calming tonight.”

“Understatement,” said Memory, reaching for a cup.

“You know, sometimes what you say makes barely any sense. The rest of the time it makes none at all.” Roen half smiled and tipped his cup to her.

Eloryn took a sip, her stomach still uneasy, and coughed when the first mouthful went down. “What is this?”

“What it is, is just what we need,” Memory wheezed and passed her cup back for more. “Come on Lory, don’t pretend you’ve got no worries to drink away.”

Roen raised an eyebrow, tilting the flagon to her to see if she accepted Memory’s challenge.

Between Roen, whom she believed knew a good many worldly things, and Memory, who couldn’t remember anything of the world, Eloryn wondered how, with all she’d learned, she always felt the one who knew the least. She downed the charring liquid and held out her empty cup with a restrained grimace.

Roen gave her a respectful nod, and poured more for them both.

Even the first cupful had Eloryn feeling dull and distracted. She wanted to ask why Roen wasn’t finishing his, as he poured for them again, and then again. But she couldn’t do it. Memory could have; she’d say anything, and frequently did. She was currently exchanging scar stories with Roen. Roen seemed to have some interesting anecdotes about his. They wafted in and out to her while the alcohol took effect. All of Memory’s sounded the same-

“Check this one out, how do you reckon I got that?” Memory leaned forward, pulling her slip down and showing Roen right down the front of her chest. Eloryn turned away in shock.

Roen blew a low whistle, shook his head and chuckled. He leaned in conspiratorially to Memory. “A flagon to share, two girls in naught but shifts and sheets… any other night and this would have been interesting indeed.”

Eloryn barely heard him, but even his tone made her blush pink. She wished she wasn’t so prone to that, that she could keep her face under better control. She didn’t feel she could control anything just now. Time seemed to be skipping forward in small jumps. Roen talked on with Memory but Eloryn kept catching him look toward her, small looks, so small she probably imagined them. She stared as the fire consumed logs greedily. Her mind drifted around, exploring dark places where she imagined Alward was held, hurt, or worse. Had he been saved? Was he now looking for her? Had he been tortured? Did he even still live? Was it all really her fault? She’d never meant to use her magic in front of the children, but she couldn’t let them be hurt. Images jolted into her head of the heavy shelf toppling forward, books spinning and re-arranging themselves in mid-air, the wide eyed awe from the children caught underneath, unharmed in a protective space built by ancient tomes.
Lucky chance,
she had told her young students,
back to work and don’t speak of it again.
She should have told Alward what happened, but was too scared of disappointing him. Barely more than a week later, the hunters came for them. A feeling of sickness blocked her throat.

Roen’s laughter drew her attention. “Just devilish, you are!”

A cheeky smile on Memory’s face disappeared. Her mouth clamped shut, bottom jaw sticking out. “I need some air,” she said and wobbled for the door.

“You can’t go out, someone may see you,” Roen warned.

“What’s wrong?” Eloryn stood up.

Memory waved limp-wristed at them. “I just, I… bah. My trains of thought are leaving the station too quickly,” she slurred and pushed her way outside.

Eloryn took a step after her, but found herself going down instead of forwards. The world slipped around inside her skull. She awaited the ground’s impact with numb clarity, but instead felt the hold of Roen’s arms around her, lifting her back to her feet. Her sheet slipped down off her shoulders, and he reached to pull it back up. Her bare skin ached pleasantly where he brushed it. She’d never had this much to drink before, and wondered if it always had this effect.

“Careful there,” Roen said. She continued to sway and he held her steady, just the barest space between them. He smelled of cloves and mossy stones, a scent that intoxicated her as much as the alcohol. She felt queasy with guilt. What had she been thinking about before? She couldn’t remember.

“You’ve had well enough to drink, delicate thing you are. Time to rest. I need to bring Mem back in,” Roen said, something worrying his expression.

“You do not enjoy my company.” The words escaped Eloryn’s mouth before she could make the distinction between speech and thought.

“That’s not true.” Roen’s voice was gruff, as though caught off guard and choking out a lie. It hurt Eloryn more than logic could account for.

“I know I’m a cause of trouble for you. Is this why you don’t like me? I see how you can be such easy friends with Memory, and it seems to me you enjoy the company of women, and yet I cannot even bring a smile to you.” Eloryn’s heart beat too hard, pushing all her blood up into her face. She dropped her head and let her hair fall to hide the shameful color.

Roen inhaled deeply. Eloryn didn’t want to look, sure he’d be frowning at her again. One of his hands dropped to the side and curled into a tight fist. She felt every muscle in his other hand tense where it held her steady.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you think that. All I can say to explain my behavior is that there are times when I feel no great value in myself. It is… easy for me to be with women, and take comfort in the value they have of me. Memory, she is special, I must admit. But you, El,” he breathed. The way he said her name made her shiver. “You are a princess.”

Eloryn shook her head, confusion coming out in words. “I am hardly a princess. I’ve grown up in a small house by woods and never known a throne or kingdom, and that kingdom which was to be mine is not, even if I had want-”

Roen gently interrupted her rambling. “It’s no matter. You are everything a princess should be: kind, clever, brave, beautiful. If I behave differently for you, it’s only because whatever I was, whatever I am, I need to be better for you.”

Eloryn lost her ability to breathe. A racing dizziness overwhelmed her. Her head bowed, she stared at his clenched fist. She wanted to say something in return, but had no words left in her. Gently, she unwrapped his hand and held it with shaking fingers, lifting her head to give him a timid smile. Roen’s eyes met hers, frowning and questioning. His mouth was set and troubled and a soft noise like a moan escaped from his throat.

Then the small distance between them vanished and he kissed her. His mouth closed around her bottom lip, firm and soft in the same moment. Her heart rushed and her eyes snapped wide open. Her hand squeezed around his and he kissed her harder. One of his hands slid up her shoulder to the base of her neck, fingers twined into her hair. His other hand broke free of hers and moved behind her waist, pulling her body into his. She brought both hands up and placed them against his flat stomach, some polite voice inside telling her she should push him away. Once there, feeling his smooth muscles beneath the thin silk fabric, she ached to think of the touch breaking. She gasped breathlessly, lips parting, and he pulled her body up toward his with a strength that lifted her off her feet.