“Someone’s here,” Luc said.
Rolan’s moment of victory was cut short as he realized Luc was right. There was someone sitting on a bale of straw near the house, her cinnamon skirts fluttering in the breeze. And near the barn, another figure was feeding the horse—
“NO!” Rolan yelled, breaking into a run. “Not apples!”
By the time he reached her, it was too late. Anaya stumbled backward out of the barn, her face green as she gagged. A stench rolled out behind her like a tide of death and swamp and rotting vegetation, so foul that the very grass seemed to wilt under its passing. Through the doors, Apple stamped his hoof, releasing another noxious gust from beneath his tail.
“What,” she gasped, “is wrong… with… yourhorse?”
Rolan grinned, bending to pluck a handful of mint leaves from Luc’s herb garden. “Here. Stuff these up your nose. It’s the only thing that helps. Why are you here?”
“Evaine wanted to check on you,” she said, her voice muffled by the leaves in her nose.
Their nostrils bristling with crushed mint, the pair went to the front of the house where Evaine was still sitting on the straw bale, her expression as cool as winter as she looked up at Luc.
“We were about to head back to Crisanth,” she said. “You’re both filthy.”
“Were you waiting long?” Luc asked.
Evaine snorted. “Hardly. We’ve only been here for—”
“Seven hours!” Anaya cut in. “We’ve been waiting all day!”
The apothecary shot her apprentice a sharp look. “Yes. Well. I didn’t want to leave the pies unattended. Your goat there already tried to snatch them right out of my hands.”
“Pies?” Rolan gasped.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Luc said to Evaine.
“But Luc,pies!” Rolan spotted the hamper by Evaine’s feet and dove for it. “Leek and potato! Pork and apple!” Looking up at the apothecary, he said, “Give me ten years to grow up, Evaine, and I will marry you.”
Evaine laughed and stood, gesturing to Anaya. “We should get back. It’s late.”
“Why did you come?” Luc demanded, his brow still low. “We have plenty of truth salve and other medicines.”
“But not nearly enough pies,” Evaine returned, “if poor Rolan’s appetite a few days back was any measure.”
“She does make an excellent point,” Rolan said, taking out the pork and apple pie and giving it a good, deep sniff. He’d forgotten his nose was still stuffed with mint leaves and only succeeded in sucking one so far up his nostril he began choking. He stumbled about, gagging for air.
“We don’t needfeeding,” Luc said gruffly, ignoring his dying apprentice. “It was foolish to venture so far from the city, and to linger so close to night.”
“So I’m a fool, am I?” asked Evaine, her eyes narrowing to green slits.
Luc went pale. “N-no, that’s not what I—of course you’re not—”
Rolan stopped dying and gaped at the sight of the mighty, taciturn Arcaniststammeringlike a pickpocket caught with his hand in a purse.
“Well, since you’re so eager for us to be gone,” said Evaine, “we’ll be going.”
“It’s too late in the day,” Luc said. “You’re an hour’s walk from the city, and the sun will set in half that.”
Evaine looked up at the sky, surprise flitting across her bronze face, as if she hadn’t noticed the lateness of the hour. “We’ll be fine,” she said, but the doubt in her voice was clear even to Supper, who gave a concerned bleat.
“You’ll stay,” Luc said. “Go back in the morning. Rolan, fix up the beds with fresh linens for the apothecary and her apprentice. You and I’ll sleep in the barn.”
“I really don’t think—” Evaine began. Nowshewas the one looking flustered.
“Please,” said Luc, softly.
