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Reaching for Rina, I lift her down off the dais by the waist. “Come,” I tell her, entertained by the resulting scowl. The woman will just have to get used to following my orders.
When she takes a limping step, I make to sweep her up, but she stops me. “I’ll walk,” she hisses, her vexation a living flame as she scans the room. Evidently she’s been rejuvenated by events and now wishes to re-establish a sense of herself in front of all these people.
“Fine,” I mock, though my tone is only for our audience. I rather like these sharp edges of hers and have no desire to see them blunted. I’ll likely have to file them back eventually, but until then, I’ll enjoy every scratch and nick she brings to bear. I turn on my heel and stride for the main doors, people parting in my wake. I have no objection if she wants to do this on her own, and I trust Eldon to protect her if there’s trouble.
Waiting for her on the landing outside, I breathe in the cold air, reveling in the deep satisfaction of my actions. If this conviction was a regular part of my role, I would embrace my duties without a second thought.
Rina arrives a minute later, supported on either side by Yvette and Kata, with practically the whole of the village gawking from behind.
“My deve,” Yvette says brightly. “Can I be of assistance?”
I shoot her a wry look. “You can bring a clean blanket to the hot springs.”
“Oh? Anything else?” She’s plainly hoping I’ll ask for clothing.
“No.” I quite like Rina half naked, and I’m now convinced if I provide her with the essentials, she’ll attempt to run.
This time I ignore her insistence that I put her down as we cross the courtyard. “Hush,” I admonish. “It’s too far for you to walk with no boots.”
“Well, maybe it’s time you returned my slippers.”
“Please,” I scorn. “If you’re referring to those flimsy leather coverings I found on your feet when you arrived, you’d be better off barefoot.”
From such close proximity, the gold of her eyes practically sparkles with her dislike of me. “Where are we going? What is thishot springs?”
The warriors on guard duty at the gates try not to gape at us, but they fail miserably as we pass by. “We’re going to bathe you. Your stench is making my eyes water.”
“And whose fault is that?” she grits out. “It’s inhumane not to let a person wash.”
I shrug. “Fortunately, my inhumanity has worked in our favor.”
“What?” Her tone is still acerbic, but I can tell some of the wind is dwindling from her sails. She’s coming down off of the high.
“Well, now that everyone has seen you at your worst, they won’t dare suggest I’ve been too lenient with you.”
“Why would that matter?”
“A warrior is dead,” I clip, suddenly annoyed with her again. “That has to be answered for.”
When she offers no barbed comment in response, I’m oddly disappointed . . . and baffled.Why does she not protest her innocence? Or at least explain the circumstances of Carson’s death?Surely they’re similar, if not the same, to what happened to her last night. But no, for a long while, I walk us along the path in silence. It gets to the point that I start contemplating some insult that will re-ignite her ire. I much prefer her feisty to morose. But before I can think of something, she puts me out of my misery.
“I saw the wall,” she says hesitantly.
“What? What wall?” But then, of course, her meaning comes to me.
“The, uh, wall of skulls.”
“Ahh,” is all I say. Around the hearth in the Great Hall, in Northern tradition, the skulls of our ancestors are arranged to cover the wall.
“It’s quite . . .”
I wait for her to insult my heritage.
She clears her throat. “It was quite fear-provoking.”
Huh, I was expecting something more along the lines ofsickening.
“It’s meant to be,” I tell her, but then immediately backtrack because that’s not true. It has nothing to do with outside perception. “Well, it’s meant more as a show of strength and unity. As a reminder that we belong here on this land just as our ancestors did. Every man, woman, and child is entitled to be added to the collective upon their death.”
