Page 45 of Luthias

Thanks to the smoothness of the trail and the wooden wheels of the cart Emery had no trouble on the way to the woodcutters’ camp. She found it empty, as the scullery had predicted, and sat down by the cooking pit to rest before she began unloading the supplies. Inside the cottage she found a few small animal figurines whittled out of pale oak sitting on the window sill, and picked up a small horse to admire it. A shadow blocked the light and she looked up to see Callen standing on the other side of the window.

He bowed a little. “We meet again.”

“Fair morning,” she said, putting down the toy horse. She wondered if she should confront him about what she suspected, but she’d rather not do that while she was alone with him. “They told me you and the men would be working in the slopes today.”

“’Tis why you came then, my lady?” His blue eyes crinkled with a knowing smile. “So you wouldnae face me?”

“I’m facing you right now,” Emery said. “And now I’m going to finish unloading the cart.” By the time she walked outside Callen was already there picking up the heaviest sacks. “You don’t have to do that. Go back to work.”

“I cannae.” He tapped the side of his right leg, where a big rip in his trews showed a bloody cut on his calf. “I must first bind my wound.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Emery took the sacks out of his hands and carried them inside, stopping to sort through a pile of clothes until she found a length of linen that looked reasonably clean. “Do you have any whiskey around here?”

“Aye.” The woodcutter limped inside another cottage and returned with a bottle. “Do you wish a mug?”

Emery took the whiskey from him and pointed to a stump by the cooking pit.

“Sit down.” Once he did she knelt down and pulled up the torn leg of his trews to inspect the slash, which was long but thankfully shallow enough not to need stitching. As she inspected the wound she closed her eyes for a moment, and then tried to sound normal as she asked, “How did you get hurt?”

“A tree we reckoned dead, ’twas rotted out, and fell too soon. The bark caught my leg.” He watched her pour the whiskey over the gash without reaction. “You’re a healer?”

“No, but I know that if you don’t clean wounds they get infected. Fester.” She gently blotted the cut before she tore a strip from the linen to use as a bandage. “Was anyone else hurt?”

“I shoved the other cutter out the way.” He took the bottle from her and raised it to his mouth.

“No drinking,” Emery scolded, taking it away from him.

Callen sighed. “You remind me of my màthair.”

“Good, so don’t make me smack you like she would for drinking during the day,” she said, setting the bottle out of his reach. “You need to keep this clean and dry until it heals, so change the bandage after you wash up for the day––and wash these pants, too.”

“Aye.” As she bandaged his leg he inspected her clothes. “Why dinnae you dress in skirts?”

“Have you seen the gowns these girls have to wear?” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t even mention how poor the fabric quality is. I might as well prance around in a great big potato sack belted with rope.”

He chuckled. “’Tis the only reason?”

“I never wore skirts or dresses as a kid. Too short.” Emery used some water to wash the blood from her hands. “Anything I saw at the store was always too long for me, and my dad was a disaster at hemming things. By the time I was in the third grade he gave up and let me dress like a boy.”

Callen frowned. “What of baubles?”

“Jewelry?” When he nodded she tugged out the gold chain from the collar of her leine to show him. “My dad gave me this right before he passed away.”

The woodcutter suddenly reached out and took hold of her right hand. “And this?”

“My mother gave it to me for my sixth birth—ah, naming day.” She rubbed her thumb over the thin gold ring on her pinky. It had been the last gift Olivia Parker had given her before she’d drowned. “I never thought about it, but my necklace and ring make me feel safe.”

“’Tis pretty.” He didn’t try to keep holding her hand. “I saw you riding back to the castle with the laird. You like him, dinnae you? When he names you his woman, he’ll give you his ring.”

“That’s not going to happen. I can’t stay here.” Saying it out loud made her heart ache, but it was the truth. “We’re just...friends.”

“’Tis more than that,” Callen said, studying her face. “’Tisnae a simple thing, to open your heart to someone. ’Tis as asking to be hurt.”

“Tell me about it.” Emery gave him a rueful look. “You’ve been there, haven’t you? What did you do about your first love?”

“Lost her to another, and cursed myself for a fool.” His expression darkened. “Love, ’tis sometimes madness.”

“It’ll be okay.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “You’ll find someone else. You’re a nice man.”