Balor was faster than Draka expected with the thatching. He has seen cotters in Aviv work on roofs before, but never paid them much attention. With Balor, he found himself constantly peeking out from the doorway to see what he was cursing and shouting at. Sometimes, the man laughed maniacally, too. Straw and hay fell from his roof like rain inside and out.

  Balor was constantly reminding him how Aurie would ‘have his skin reaped’ if he didn’t sit down somewhere and stay there, in between telling him Maud’s unique interests and loves. She loved rocks as much as he did. Apparently, giving her one would be a symbol of interest in this odd place. Purple ones especially. Draka would nod as if he were more than half listening as he gathered the broken boards of the table and shelves he had destroyed in his rage and tossed them out the doorway into a pile on the porch, the porch steps, and the road, as he was able to reach them.

  “She does love the forest,” Balor pulled a string tight, his legs dangling over a beam in the middle of the room. He was sitting on the roof, tugging with a breath so loud he must have been pulling a boulder up a ziggurat. “An amazing imagination, believe you me. I’ve heard her talking like a queen about where to send knights and such, a few times. Fantasies, but imagine the stories she could conjure for her children.”

  Was it her or your, Draka found himself wondering.

  “Once, she slayed a dragon with her stick, jumping and rolling through the trees. Made Aurie nearly have a litter of rabbits. I only know it was a dragon, honestly, because I asked her. Something I often would watch in the growing season. It may sound like she’s completely mad, but I always enjoyed how she could take anything and make it more.”

  Draka grinned at the thought of Maud leaping here and there with a stick as if she were fighting some giant monster in the middle of the forest. In a way, he wondered what the trees might say about it if they could talk. Though, with how old he knew she must be, it was odd that she still did such things. An easier life than he could have ever wished for anyone, he supposed.

  “You must know the forest well, if you’re able to hunt,” Balor slid himself across the beam and began unrolling straw from a bale over it with string wrapped around his arm. “She’s got the heart of a hunter, promise you me. And the way she looks at that horse of yours, I can see her growing fond of the things you could show her. Can you fish?”

  Draka looked up to him with a handful of splintered wood bits and nodded as he threw them through the door. Most of the room was cleared, but there was still much more to do. He needed a broom. ‘Like a spear,’ he remembered one of the monks in Heblem saying to him when he stayed at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, ‘side to side. Like this…’ Draka had gotten a broom across his leg when he laughed at how ridiculous the short bald man looked sweeping. They had made him a groundsman because of it. The memory made him chuckle.

  “Alright, alright,” Balor scoffed, tightening the twine. “You don’t have to laugh at me for asking. I guess if you can hunt, you can fish. I, for one, have never done it. Not allowed without a permit, you know…shit on everything, I need more twine.”

  Draka shook his head, grinning, as he reached for another handful. The day was becoming one he would see as one of his best, despite the aching of his ankle and wrist. And knuckles. Any other time, he might have told the man to stop his constant talking, but it felt like ages since anyone spoke to him so eagerly, so joyfully, he was relishing it.

  Balor lifted his legs which had been swinging from the beam like a child in a chair that was too big for him and walked loudly across the roof to where he had put the ladder. He came into the room, clapping dust and pollen from his hands, looking around at how cleared the room had become with approval.

  “Nicely done, even if Aurie will beat you for it. Better you than me,” Balor slapped the back of his shoulder with a loud laugh and wide smile. “Might use it to my advantage. If she’s on you, she’ll remember I’m not that bad.”

  Draka gave him a humored look. Will she, though?

  Balor swallowed dryly, “Well, I’ll try anyway. Wish you could talk to her, tell her I meant nothing by it but for you to see how wonderful my sweet Maud is.”

  Draka’s expression darkened, meant to let him know that he was still doing exactly that and in vain.

  Again, Balor swallowed at him and rolled his eyes knowingly. “Don’t blame me for trying. I want you to find her pleasing even more now that I know the sort you are. But, I know, I know,” his eyes turned to the floor as if he were surveying the work done, “you want me to stand by Aurie and let Maud become an old maid.”

  Draka smacked the back of his head and pointed toward Vigora, who had begun playing with bits of straw from the old thatching. With the way she was whipping it around with her head thrashing from side to side, she either loved the taste of mildew or was angry with it. Draka was waiting to see which it was once she finished.

  Balor sighed, “Yes, I know. I’m a jackass.” He lifted a glare to Draka’s shaking gaze, “But I still think you might have a chance. Once she knows you even a bit as much as I do, she’ll fall into fantasies of what life with you standing by her might be.”

  Draka smacked the back of his head again, lighter this time. He scooped up some more of the small bits of splintered wood and tossed them out the door.

  “Hey!” Aurie’s shout from outside made both men whip around to the door. Balor squealed, Draka hissed at the pain thrusting from his ankle.

  “Shit,” Balor whispered, his eyes wide as saucers. “I’ll check on your firewood. Best make sure there’s plenty for the winter.”

  Draka glared after Balor as he climbed up the hearth and onto the beam to crawl out onto the roof. It’s still early spring.

  As if on cue, Aurie stepped into the doorway with a lidded pot in both of her mittened hands that caused her to arch her back, just as Balor was gone. Her fierce glare met Draka as if she were ready to throw whatever was in that pot that was hot enough to require her to use mittens at him. Draka refused to let the worry in him show and only raised a single brow at her.

  “Where’s my husband, your lordship?”

  Draka stifled a laugh, both at where Balor had just fled and at being called lordship. He shrugged at her.

  Her eyes narrowed. She carried the pot through the doorway and the glare faded into a look of disgust. She set the pot on the freshly cleared floor in front of the hearth and put a mitten to her nose, “What is that smell?”

  Draka blinked. What do you mean, ‘smell’? He lifted an arm to sniff at his pit and shook his head. Couldn’t be him.

  Aurie’s nose crinkled as she looked around her, searching for something. Then, she fixed her disgusted glare on him, never taking the mitten from her nose. “It smells awful in here. And where is Sadie’s table? I know it was right…” She stopped after turning toward the hearth where he had yet to remove the broken boards. Her hands dropped from her nose and she fell to her knees in front of the hearth, sniveling, “He spent an entire season building that table, you monster. How could you?”

  Draka stared, dumbfounded, as she pulled bit after bit of the broken boards out of the hearth. What could he say? Nothing. But it was yet another thing he would pray for. Apparently, Balor wasn’t the only one who needed to see reason. When her teary eyes looked to him accusingly, he lowered himself in a show of shame.

  She looked down at the pieces in her lap and shook her head before wiping her wet nose with the back of a hand. “I helped Addy paint it while I was pregnant with Maud. They were kind and loving and you…and you…destroyed what was left of them.”

  He winced as he went to his knees, bowing for forgiveness even though she refused to look at him. He watched for when she whipped another glare. Her face was red and puffy from her straining to hold back her tears. He never meant to upset her, too. If only he could explain that he didn’t know its value to her or he would have brought it to her. Or at least, not broken it when he threw it.

  She regarded him, sniveling, but with curiosity overpowering her sorrow. Another wipe at her face and she was on her feet. She hefted the heavy pot onto one of the hooks sticking from the stones of the hearth. She wiped her hands on her dress, clapped them as if she had finished something, and turned to him with furrowed brows. He held his palms up to her in a show of begging for forgiveness. She gave him a glossy eyed grin.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Oh, get up,” Aurie stomped to help him. He hissed and she tucked his arm over her shoulder. “Oh stop your whining, it can’t be that bad for such a big strong noble like yourself.”

  Draka tightened his lips at her angry mocking as she lowered him onto the hay pile of his bed. Before she straightened, she sniffed at him and then the hay, and she glowered at him. What did I do now?

  Her head whipped to the doorway and at Vigora beyond. Her glare must have been one of Hell itself with the way that Vigora shot her head upright, drool and straw falling from her mouth. Vigora licked at the taste of the mildewed straw and faced her ears toward Aurie with the alertness of seeing a dangerous wolf pack. He understood why the moment Aurie’s gaze turned on him.

  “Is this your bed or the horse’s, you plowing barbarian?”

  Draka couldn’t help but grin at her as he put a hand up with a wiggle to say, ‘Both?’

  “Ugh,” Aurie stood and growled. “Have you no decency at all? Ride with my daughter like she’s your mistress, steal my husband, break a table that was made sturdier than a brick house, and let your horse sleep in your house! And…when, by the gods, did you last bathe?”

  Draka raised another brow at her. He met her glare with one to match from where he sat. He watched the red build in her face and her eyes bulge. This, he decided in that moment, this is how I’ll die.

  Thankfully, Maud came huffing through the door with a basket of jars and cloths, Alden following shortly behind. Both stopped after their first step and crinkled their noses. How bad could it possibly be?

  “It smells like farts and compost in here!” Maud tucked her nose into her arm as she searched desperately for somewhere to set down the basket.

  Alden doubled over from laughing, “Like farts and Pa’s shoes!”

  “Set that here,” Aurie’s gaze never left Draka’s, nor his from her, as Maud set the basket on the floor beside her. “Grab some of the pieces of wood from out there and start the hearth. Alden, get a bucket of water and hang it next to the other pot. And you…” she jabbed a finger close to Draka’s nose, “…you will bathe as soon as I am done with you.”

  How do you signal, ‘Am I to assume that the execution has been rescheduled for after you torture me?’

  Maud sounded a bit too relieved to go out the door, though when she returned with her apron filled with splintered wood, the same look of disgust from whatever they were smelling returned. Alden was following behind her with a dripping bucket of water. Aurie snapped her fingers for Draka to look at her.

  “Take the whole boot off and don’t you fight me over it, or I swear I’ll thump you. I’m in no mood today, after all you’ve done.”

  Draka kept his eyes narrowed at her and raised his brows with a sideways stretch of his mouth. No.

  Aurie bit her lower lip and snapped her fingers at him again. “I’m not doing it for you. Noble or not, I’m no servant and neither are my children. Now, do it or else.”

  Draka didn’t move.

  Aurie drew in a long breath as she raised her chin and eyes to look at Alden. “Grab me one of the bigger boards, Alden. Make sure it’s a thick one.”

  Alden’s eyes were wide and his mouth fell open. Aurie had her hands on her hips, staring him down. He froze. She wouldn’t. Would she?

  “Oh, for plowing sakes, just take the boot off so I can see if any of your toes are blue from the swelling, you monster,” she turned her back to him and crouched to grab the wrapping out of the basket.

  Maud cackled as she finished getting the hearth lit. Alden looked from her to Aurie and back again as wide eyed in fear as he was in awe.

  “You’re a little shit, you know,” Aurie said to him as she wadded up a cloth with a wide grin. Draka returned her grin with a nod as he unbuckled his boot.

  Slowly, carefully, he slid his foot out with a hiss from the leather scraping his raw skin. He felt each clawing groove of the boot across the skin of his swollen foot. He set the boot to the side. Aurie gasped and nearly leapt across the room. Alden’s arms thrust across his face. Maud, who had been unlucky enough to be bent over to set the warm water beside his foot, shot upright and dry heaved as she sprinted out the door.

  “The gods, when was the last time you took it off?” Aurie widened her mouth to breathe through it instead of her nose. Then her eyes widened at the sight of his foot and her icy blue eyes glistened.

  He had blisters across both sides of his ankle bone and scraped along the sides from the swelling making his boot tighter than usual. The top of his foot and his heel were raw, red flesh. Between his four toes were lines of broken skin and a welt over the scar of where his middle toe should have been. Air struck his foot in a mass of painful sensations that both intensified and cooled the pain all at once.

  Aurie was silent at first. She didn’t take the wrap from his ankle. She looked at his foot as if it were more important than that. She wrapped her hand around his heel and quickly pulled it away when he jerked it a little. Her blues looked into his eyes as if she felt how much it hurt him. She lifted his foot by pressing his knee and dipped the wadded cloth into the water before dabbing it against his heel.

  “I know that wound,” Aurie said as she concentrated on his foot, keeping from looking him in the eyes, “That was from rot, wasn’t it?”

  Draka nodded. One way of putting it, he thought as he eyed each dab and light rub of her washing his foot. It was the longest siege he had ever withstood and the sapping toward the walls had been stalled by weeklong rains. Their enemies had been bolstered by it, raining arrows and canisters of dismemberments down on them, day after day, night after night. He and the others of his legion had refused to stop digging their trenches despite the water and gore and dead filling them. In the end, they sacked the city and raised the cross on the tallest tower of the fortress, but the cost had been great. Many friends had died to take that city, many friends whose floating faces around him often crept into his vision when he least expected it.

  “Your other toes have similar signs of it,” Aurie drew in a long breath. “The Baron’s Men often have these scars. Don’t look at me like that, I don’t like doing this anymore than you do. Why don’t you have socks on? Have you never worn socks? Much of this wouldn’t happen if you did, you know.”

  Draka halfheartedly grinned at her concern. He looked up to the others but found that they were the only two remaining in the house. He shifted to pull his foot away.

  Aurie squeezed his heel until he hissed with a stiff chin and fiery challenge in her look. Some of her fingers moved across the bottom, tickling him a little, and likely unintentionally with the way her brows squeezed together.

  “That’s not possible,” she whispered under her breath. His ears perked as he watched her brows push together and deep wrinkles formed on her forehead. She shot him the fiercest glare yet. “You’re not a noble at all, are you?” She dropped his foot and leapt back from him, her eyes wide as saucers.

  Draka nearly leapt out of the hay pile with a wince as pain shot through him. No, I’m not, he tried to signal to her through the pain, but she wasn’t paying attention to him any longer.

  “You…we…but…no,” She twisted and turned.

  He knew the look. Confused, disoriented, disillusioned.

  “No,” she said again. She hurriedly grabbed the jars and wraps, tossing them into the basket before lifting it up. “You’re not just common…you’re…you’re…something else. I saw…no.” And she stomped out the door.

  You saw? Draka widened his eyes. It couldn’t be. Was she actually in the dream?

  “You swore another oath,” he was reminded. What vexed him most when he felt the commanding reminder inside of him was that it was an oath in a dream. A nightmare. Not in the real world. But if it is an oath accepted by the Almighty, then that must mean…He looked to the doorway she had left through.

  As the cloth swayed from her passing, he noticed that she had left the bucket of warm water and a single, corked jar. The wet cloth was crumpled beside it. She was there. She saw him, who he was, once, a long time ago.

  More than ever before, he wished he could say something. But that would be breaking a vow to God.