Sentinelspire - Mark Sehestedt [76]
The rant seemed to stoke his agitation rather than calm it, and Sauk had ordered Lewan to get his clothes on. Hadn't even allowed him a moment in the stream to wash the pasty symbols off his skin. Lewan had scarcely pulled on his boots and grabbed Berun's bow before Sauk was pulling him to his feet and rushing him onward. They'd run the whole way back, even after full dark caught them on the mountainside. Lewan's boots were scuffed and his toes hurt from bashing into rocks and roots.
The journey through the statue-haunted passageway had been the worst. Sauk had clutched Lewan's wrist and dragged him through the maze. He'd been none too careful, and they'd brushed up against several statues. More than once, Lewan could have sworn he'd felt a stony hand or claw reach out and brush his shoulder. But perhaps that had simply been his fear and exhaustion overtaking him in the dark.
Back at the fortress, Sauk had barreled through the guards at the gate, knocking one man flat on his behind. He'd pushed Lewan up the stairs to the tower, opened the door, told him, "Get to your rooms and stay there!" then bounded off.
Lewan watched him go until he was little more than a blur in shadows between pools of lamplight. Then he'd made the climb to his room.
He stood before the door-his hair, skin, and clothes drenched with sweat, dust caking him, his chest heaving, and his legs feeling as if they were about to collapse. Lewan was not soft. He'd lived in the wild most of his life, running for miles without rest. But the day had drained him. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, he was spent. He scarcely had the energy to twist the knob of his door.
Lewan stepped inside, and an array of scents hit him like a blow-spiced candles, cherry wood burning in the hearth, expensive oil burning low in two lamps, an array of blossoms strewn about the room and on the bed, and set in the middle of the floor between the miniature oak and holly, a huge brass tub. Ulaan, wearing a blue silk gown, her hair loose and flowing down her torso, stood next to it. She saw him and smiled.
"Lewan! Oh, you look ready to fall over." She went to him, pulled him into the room, and shut the door behind him. "I've had a bath brought into the room tonight. I knew you'd be tired after a day out on the mountain with Sauk." She dropped her eyes and smiled. "And I thought we might not want to have to walk so far from the bath to bed tonight."
Lewan took her hands and pulled them off him. "Ulaan… I must speak to you."
He saw a slight widening of her eyes, a quick intake of breath-but she hid it quickly. "What is it, Lewan?" she said carefully.
He looked to the bedside table. A platter of food-fruits, bread, white cheese, wine-waited there. She'd even found a sprig of red holly and put it on the edge of the platter. He walked over, threw the bow on the bed, then poured the wine into a goblet and drained it in one gulp. As the warmth began to suffuse his head, he looked to Ulaan, put all the gentleness into his voice he could, and said, "Don't look so worried."
She would not look at him. "Do I have reason to be?"
Lewan put the empty goblet on the platter. He saw that his hand was trembling. "I'm not sending you away if that's what you're thinking."
Ulaan did look up then, her eyes rimmed with tears. She smiled and rushed at him with open arms.
Lewan took a step back and placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her at arm's length. Even through the grime coating his fingers, he could feel how thin her dress was and how soft the skin beneath.
Her eyes narrowed, not so much in hurt as confusion. "Lewan, I…"
"Please, Ulaan. You must listen. We…" Lewan swallowed and took a deep breath. Damn it all! Exhausted as he was, he was still blushing like a little boy. "We cannot… be together. At least not for a while."
"I don't understand. You said you weren't sending me away! You said-"
"No!" Lewan shook his head, cutting her off. "I mean, we can't… you know. Love."
Ulaan sat on the bed. "You don't love me." She seemed to be talking