Ire Taverness's Arc

Chapter 9 of 19

Kael held her against him in the grass, one arm under her knees, the other across her back. Ire pressed her forehead to his and laughed. The tavern was two days behind them. The tent stood open in the sun. They had three more days. "Put me down," she said. "I'm hungry." "No." "Kael." "You said that yesterday. I put you down. You started sweeping the fire pit." He carried her to the low table by the tent. "Sit." She sat. He crouched at the fire and pulled the pot off the coals. He tore bread from a cloth bundle, laid it on a tin plate, and spooned stew over it. He set the plate on her lap and pushed a spoon into her hand. "Eat all of it," he said. "You eat." "After you." She ate. He watched her the way he watched a road. When she slowed, he tore another piece of bread and held it out until she took it. Her tail curled around his ankle where he sat. After, he heated water in the pot and carried it behind the tent to a wooden basin he had hauled out on the second morning. He called her over. She came. He unlaced her shift and let it fall in the grass. "You built a bath too," she said. "I built a basin. The bath is you standing in it." He wet a cloth and ran it down her arm. He worked slow. Neck. Shoulder. The soft place under her jaw where her pulse jumped. He cupped water over her hair and combed it through with his fingers until the curls hung heavy down her back. She closed her eyes. "I don't remember the last time someone washed my hair." "I do." "When." "You were seven. You fell in the creek. I pulled you out." She laughed so hard she splashed him. He wiped his face on his sleeve and kept working. He dried her with a rough cloth and pulled a clean shift over her head. Then he sat her on the bed and brushed the tangles out of her hair. His hands were careful. He had brought a comb. He had thought of a comb. "You planned every piece of this," she said. "Yes." "Why." He set the comb on the table. He looked at her a long moment. "Because you never stop," he said. "I wanted four days where you did." Her eyes filled. She did not wipe them. She took his hand and held it against her cheek and let the tears run over his knuckles. That night she slept without waking. In the morning she opened her eyes and saw the canvas glowing gold with sun, and Kael already up, tying the flap back. She sat up and knew, plainly, that the tavern would keep. The coin would keep. The road would keep. She had four days. She had spent one. Three were still hers.