Heartwood by Serenity Woods

Author:Serenity Woods [Woods, Serenity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-14T22:00:00+00:00

IV

Bearrach awoke to find Fionnghuala’s bed empty. At some point he had dozed off, although it had taken him quite a while; the sound of the crying baby had lasted long into the night. She had already been asleep by then, but he had heard it clearly, and had lain awake staring at the stars, wondering what ghostly child this was who had followed them all the way from the Neck Pass.

That morning, he could hear nothing except the sounds of people getting ready for breakfast, however, and so he arose and went to his own bedroom, washed and dressed, putting on his light jerkin only, deciding to leave his mail behind. Now he was in Hanaire he should have little need of it, and it was a relief to get rid of the weight.

He was not used to wearing mail on a regular basis and found himself walking with a lighter step than he had for the past few weeks. As Head of the Council in Fintaire, his day was filled with meetings and audiences rather than battles, and although he travelled widely and always dressed cautiously when he went into the Twelve Lands, most of the time he left his battle armour at home.

He walked through to the dining room, which had been cleared of the meal from the night before, and the tables were now laid for breakfast. Bread, butter, steaming bowls of porridge and a variety of fruit lay on the table, along with jugs of cold water from the well. Audax, Lalage and Mundus were already there, and so were Fionnguala’s companion Kinaed and his own compatriot Ruadh, who had left with him from Fintaire. Fionnghuala herself, however, was not.

“Where is she?” he asked, helping himself to a large bowl of porridge and ladling strawberries into it. They were early strawberries, from his hothouse at the back of his villa, but they were soft and sweet.

“She went out for a walk,” said Kinaed in his quiet voice. “She said she needed some air.”

Taking his bowl with him, Bearrach walked out into his gardens. The place was quiet and peaceful, being some way from town. He walked through the gardens under a covered walkway that protected him from the worst of the rain still falling, and saw with sadness the lawns had been flooded in several places, and the flowerbeds pooled with water. It would be difficult to get things to grow if the rain did not stop soon.

At the end of the garden, still under the covered walkway but looking out onto the marsh meadow, he finally saw her. She was dressed and wore her mail coat, but still she looked small and delicate, like a white flower, easily crushed beneath one’s boot. He wandered over to her, eating his breakfast.

“No sign of it easing,” he said as he approached, trying not to make her jump.

She turned, looked at him and smiled, and then glanced up at the heavy clouds. “I cannot believe it has rained for so long,” she said.

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