Vasily groaned. “No, nothing like that. But I left my good boots down at the harbour.” He sat back down. “I don’t suppose someone could run and collect them for me?”
Mother shook his head. “They’ll be long gone. Mine too, probably.”
With a look of disbelief, Vasily said, “What, you think somebody would just…take them?”
Mother shrugged, and a rueful smile tugged at his lips. “Nice pair of boots, sitting all alone on a wall? They’re just begging to be pinched, aren’t they? They were probably gone before you were out of the water.”
“That’s terrible!”
“That’s life when you’re not—”
Vasily saw the exact moment Mother bit back the workroyaltywith a sideways glance at the maester.
“Anyway, I’m sure I can rustle you up another pair. I’ll fetch your clothes. You wait here.” Mother ducked his head and stole a quick kiss before he disappeared out the door. It was barely a press of lips, but it still made Vasily’s stomach flutter pleasantly.
While Mother was gone, Vasily made use of the privy, and when he came out, there was a shallow bathtub filled with steaming water. It was exactly what he hadn’t known he needed. As Vasily smoothed a cloth covered in soap suds over his limbs and rinsed his hair, the maester kept a weather eye on him from a seat next to the tub. It turned out to be a good thing, because when he stood to get out, things got decidedly fuzzy for a second. But the maester was right there, holding his elbow and keeping him steady.
When Vasily sat on the edge of the bed to dry himself, he half expected the maester to say he wasn’t fit to leave, but instead he just raised an eyebrow at him and said, “Perhapsfourdays.”
Vasily gave a grateful nod, his shoulders slumping. He eyed the bed longingly, and his body reminded him that it had had quite the day and would like to lie down now, please. The plump feather pillow looked too good to resist, and Vasily didn’t even try. He pulled the quilt back, slid underneath, and spent several minutes appreciating the soft texture of the bed linen as it brushed against his bare skin. It was a far cry from the rough sheets in his cottage.
He was just drifting off when the door opened, and a moment later the side of the bed dipped with the weight of someone sitting. He opened his eyes to find Mother looking down at him, an amused smile on his face. “Seems I was wrong, lad.”
Vasily sat up and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “What?”
Mother bent down and picked something up off the floor and held it aloft. There, dangling from his fingertips by their knotted laces, were Vasily’s boots. “Apparently, people aren’t quite big enough bastards to rob a drowning man after all. Found these on your doorstep, along with mine.” Mother wrinkled his nose. “Mind, they do both smell of horseshit, so mayhap nobody wanted them.”
Vasily wasn’t sure why he found the idea of his boots being too ripe to even steal funny—perhaps it was just because he was so tired. Regardless, he threw back his head and laughed, unable to help himself. Mother joined him, wrapping an arm around his bare shoulders and holding him close. And if somewhere along the way Vasily’s hysterical laughter turned to tears, Mother was nice enough not to mention it.
Instead he held Vasily through it, running a soothing hand up and down his spine, and when his sobs had turned to hiccupping wet noises, Mother quietly stood and dipped the washcloth in the still-warm bath water, then wiped Vasily’s face in sure, gentle strokes before drying it on the edge of a towel. “Better?”
Vasily nodded. He felt lighter, like he’d shed the turmoil of the day, and the tightness in his chest that had been there since he’d woken up had eased. He reached out and took Mother’s hand, turning it over in his own before pressing a kiss to the palm. “Thank you.”
Mother’s eyes were full of warmth as he lifted their joined hands and kissed Vasily’s knuckles. “Anything for you, love.” He extracted his hand and pulled back the blankets. “We should get you dressed and home and leave Maester Owens in peace.”
Vasily looked around, intending to thank the maester for his time, but the room was empty. “Where did he go?” He hadn’t heard him leave.
Mother handed him his smallclothes. “I think he slipped out before, to give us some privacy.”
“Oh,” Vasily said faintly. “That was good of him.”
He thought once more about what his father would say if he knew that Vasily had not only sobbed like a child but done it in front of the staff. It was lucky, he decided, that his father would never set foot in Lilleforth.
* * *
Mother took Vasily back to his cottage, an arm around his waist the entire time. Vasily was far more tired from the short walk than he felt he should be, but the sight of Mother’s cottage with its big comfy bed and familiar faded quilt made the effort worth it.
Mother caught him yawning and wasted no time settling Vasily on the bed, and he rolled onto his front so he could bury his face in the bedding that smelled of Mother. Once the lamps had been lit and the fire stoked to a cheerful blaze, Mother lay down on the bed with him and ran his hands up and down Vasily’s back in long, sweeping motions and soft touches that had his eyelids fluttering closed. Vasily wasn’t sure how long he dozed for, but when he woke the cottage was filled with the aroma of beef stew. He ate greedily, and Mother gave him an approving nod when he asked for seconds.
After dinner, Mother ran his fingers through Vasily’s hair and tutted at the state of it. He settled him next to the fireplace on a low stool, then sat behind him and carefully brushed all the knots and tangles out of his hair until the strands ran through his fingers like a waterfall, gleaming in the firelight. The tug of the hairbrush was soothing and hypnotic, and if Vasily had been a cat, he would have been purring. He settled for a low, throaty moan.
“You can’t make noises like that, Vasily,” Mother murmured, gathering his hair to one side and draping it over his shoulder. “Not if you expect me to follow the maester ’s orders.”
Vasily tilted his head back and when he saw the heat in Mother’s gaze, he preened inwardly.
Motherwantedhim.
And Mother wasn’t the only one who wanted. The food and sleep had gone a long way towards making Vasily feel more like himself, and Mother’s hands running through his hair and over his skin had awakened a need in him for a more intimate touch.
