Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [155]
Morwen fled.
Deeper into the woods, deeper into taisgaidh land. She vanished in the darkness, with scarce a sound to mark her passage. I sighed and sheathed my sword, and set about tying my breeches before Kinadius found me. I felt the dull ache of thwarted desire, bone-deep and awful, thudding futilely in my groin.
"My lord!" Kinadius stumbled out of the trees. "What in Lug's name are you doing?”
I picked up the vambrace Morwen had removed, showing him the tangled yarn. "Bear-witch.”
His eyes showed the whites. "Where?”
"Gone, for now," I said wearily. "Let's go. I've need of the ollamh's services.”
We made our way back to the verge of the woods where Kinadius had tethered his mount. I had no recollection of having entered them, but the Bastard and I had left a trampled path. I was lucky Urist had noticed my absence, lucky he'd led a dozen men back to search for me, lucky that Kinadius, bringing up the rearguard, had spotted our trail.
Or mayhap 'twas more than luck.
Betimes the gods answer our prayers in a sideways manner.
One by one, we caught up with the other searchers. Kinadius told them in a single hushed word what had happened. Bear-witch. I got heartily sick of hearing it.
"What did she want?" one of them finally asked.
I gestured at my crotch. "What every woman wants. Didn't get it, though.”
There was a shocked pause, and then Urist roared with laughter and the others did, too. Men are always apt to laugh when fearful. It helped, though. By the time we caught up with the drovers and the fourteen head of cattle we'd stolen from Leodan of Briclaedh, the men of Clunderry had grown easy with me once more. They decided it was a grand jest that their D'Angeline lord—a man who'd proved he could take a jest himself—had such a pretty face it could render even a bear-witch lovestruck.
I smiled wryly and didn't disabuse them of the notion, although I wished it were that simple.
Although we were all wary and on edge, the balance of our journey was uneventful. Leodan launched no pursuit, and Morwen attempted no further gambit. We crossed into Clunderry as the sky was turning grey, and Urist declared a rest. The men slept in shifts, an hour at a time, while others kept watch over the weary cattle.
I didn't sleep.
"My lord, I swear to you, I'll stand watch over you myself," Urist said fervently. I daresay he felt guilty, and well he should. "I'll not let anything befall you.”
"It's all right," I said. "I'm not tired, that's all.”
True and not true.
I was tired; I was bone-tired. I was bruised and battered, my cut knuckles stung, and I stank of cow-dung. The dull ache of desire hadn't faded, and Morwen's scent lingered in my nostrils.
But I was myself.
And despite everything, the air in my lungs tasted fresher; my vision seemed clearer and brighter. My unfettered heart sloughed off the shackles of Alban magic and sang, as pure and clear a tune as Ferghus drew from his harp-strings. Like a prisoner granted an unexpected day's leave, I meant to enjoy every moment of it. I watched the sun rise in the east. I watched each blade of grass cast its own sharp-edged shadow. I watched the men of Clunderry snore in their bedrolls. I watched the cattle chewing their cuds, slow and meditative.
I thought about Sidonie.
I thought about Dorelei, too.
And I offered prayers of thanks and hope to Blessed Elua and his Companions, and all the myriad deities of Alba.
I hoped someone was listening.
Chapter Thirty-One
"From all who seek to bind thee, be thou protected!”
Firdha clapped her hands sharply. I blinked, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her stone hut. Without leaving the circle of salt she'd inscribed around me, I raised my wrists and examined the fresh bindings of bright red yarn, peered at my ankles.
"How do you feel?" Firdha inquired.
'Twas strange to think how I'd lost so much and felt it so little when Aodhan worked his charm on me.