Sin and Soil Page 4

  “Damon…” she whispered. She stared at him, shaking her head once before a true smile took hold.

  “Aesta,” he said. “I’m back.”

  She pulled him into a tight hug that Damon hadn’t realized how much he’d needed. She was a medium sized woman, which meant that she’d been of a height with him back when he’d left. She barely stood past his shoulder now, and her relative shortness took him by surprise.

  Damon returned her embrace, catching the faint scent of sweet crimson sap, her favorite cooking ingredient, so much so that it served as an incidental perfume. He hugged her back, and let his concerns about his father’s debts and his lost wrathblade, about his entire situation fade away. He hugged her back and it was as though he’d never left.

  But he had, and he’d come to warn her. Malon seemed to sense the change in his mood instantly. She pulled back from the hug and tapped a single finger against his lips before he could say a word.

  “Not yet,” she said. “I know you’re here for a reason, and we’ll get it eventually, solas. But not until you’re settled in and comfortable.”

  He’d always been her solas, the Remenai word for a woman’s young male charge, usually orphaned. Damon grinned at hearing the old, familiar term and the affection in her voice, and he responded in kind.

  “Of course, aesta. Is that stew cooking on the fire I smell?”

  “Just the potatoes, so far,” said Malon. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have started dinner earlier.”

  She pulled him by both hands into the house, spinning around behind them to shut the door by leaning her butt and back against it. Damon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he took in the familiar common room.

  The fire was lit, with plenty of wood stacked in neat rows along the wall across the room. Malon’s chair was pulled up to the hearth, where an open pot hung with the beginnings of dinner. The dining table was tucked into the corner of the room, long unused and lonely.

  “Please,” said Malon, pulling out a chair for him. “Sit. It must have been a hard journey for you to get here. Rest your legs.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, taking a seat despite himself.

  Malon busied herself pulling ingredients for the stew, which gave him a moment to indulge in contemplation. He glanced toward the door leading to Vel and Ria’s room. They’d both had to share the space back when the four of them had lived together, though Ria was so wild that she spent near half her nights in the forest.

  He couldn’t resist taking a peek into his old room. The nostalgia was near overwhelming as soon as he’d poked his head in. His old wooden training sword still lay across his clothing chest. His shortbow had been either unstrung or broken at some point, but the wood was still in good condition, and it was leaning in the corner.

  Various sets of trousers, skirts, and blouses lay scattered across the floor, which made him raise an eyebrow. Malon seemed to read his question before he asked it as he looked over to where she was in front of the fire.

  “Ria left some of her things in there,” said Malon. “It didn’t seem fair to make her and Vel keep sharing that one room with you gone. She was careful about keeping all the things you left right where they were.”

  “It’s fine,” said Damon. “I don’t mind. Aesta… I’m so sorry for the way that I left.”

  A simple apology didn’t feel like enough. He’d left without saying goodbye, never visited, never written. Part of it had been out of concern for Malon, Vel, and Ria, but it would be a lie to say that his own wanderlust hadn’t been an element.

  “I understand, solas,” said Malon. “Truly, I do. It was your time to spread your wings, if not because of your father’s enemies, then for the sake of your own destiny. You were young and full of energy, too much to stay cooped up with just the farm and what little fun can be found in Morotai.”

  She set the ladle down in the pot and turned around, crossing her legs and folding her hands over her apron covered lap. “Though I do wish that you’d have written me back occasionally.”

  Her expression became a bit more chastising, and for some reason, it made Damon smile and feel appreciated. More than just that, really. It made him feel loved.

  “I was worried about the letters being traced back here,” he said. “Couriers talk when coins get bandied about, just as much as anyone if not more so. Harder for them to trace a letter coming from the north rather than one going out to it.”

  “I know,” she said. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I kept busy here at the farm with my own projects. I won’t have you treating me like I’m some old, lonely crone.”

  Damon chuckled. “That would be impossible, aesta.”

  He meant that in a literal sense. He hadn’t mentioned it, and wasn’t really sure how to mention it, but Malon looked good. She’d been in her thirtieth year when he’d left, which would make her forty, but she seemed to have scarcely aged at all in that time.

  She was a beautiful woman, though she often tried to downplay it with her clothing choices. Damon wasn’t sure if he’d ignored that fact as a child, or just been unable to see it, viewing her through the eyes of prepubescence.

  Malon had generous, full breasts, a trim waist, and hips that were undeniable in their appeal to the masculine eye. Damon felt a flash of weirdly enticing shame as he took in those facts, along with her borderline unnaturally youthful skin, full lips, and deep green eyes. She was gorgeous, and full of the confidence and poise that came with maturity.

  “Damon!” She waved a hand at him, clearly suppressing a smile. “Stop it with that look of yours! You’ll make me blush as red as my hair.”

  “Sorry…” he said, quickly. He was the one blushing now, and he cleared his throat to push back against the momentary awkwardness.

  Malon gave him a dreamy smile, and then suddenly perked up, glancing toward the hall. She smoothed out her apron as she stood up from her chair and hurried toward her room.

  “I have something to show you!” she said.

  “You do?” Damon furrowed his brow. She was gone for a minute, so he took up the role of watching the fire, adding another small log in a spot where it would burn evenly.

  “Here.” Malon was grinning as she came back out into the common room. She had a small, illustrated parchment flier in her hand, which she offered to him.

  “This is…” Damon blinked, reading the name of the Gleaming Scythe across the top, and then the lineup of gladiators for a bout that had taken place over five years earlier. “My first performance. Wait… You were there? You saw me during my first fight?”

  Malon’s smile grew even broader as she nodded. “I was. I’d never felt so proud of you in my entire life, solas. I used to worry so much about the trouble you’d get into, and whether you’d make out on your own, but after seeing that, I knew you’d be okay.”

  “Why didn’t you come find me after the bout?” he asked. “If I’d known…”

  Malon waved a hand as though brushing the idea away. “You were seventeen, solas, and in the city with your friends. What did you do that night? Would having your aesta chiding over you have enhanced your experience?”

  Damon felt his cheeks start to heat up again as he realized that he’d lost his virginity on that particular night. Having Malon there would have certainly complicated the situation.

  She slipped from the common room into the pantry and came back carrying a wicker box full of strips of salted meat, which she began chopping and adding to the stew, along with carrots and turnips.

  “Beef,” said Damon, appreciatively. “Where did you get that from?”

  “I traded Rance Algon a bottle of waterfruit wine for it,” she said. “I still have plenty from last season, and I’ve sold as much in Morotai as the villagers will buy.”

  “Algon…” Damon furrowed his brow. “The widower? Is he still in the market for a wife?”

  Malon laughed. “I suspect he is, but this particular unmarried woman is not on the marketplace.�
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  Damon felt an odd, warring sense of relief and concern. “You’ve never really taken your suitors seriously. I still remember that attitude from when I was young, even though I didn’t have a firm grasp of what was going on back then.”

  “There seems to be no end to men who think themselves capable of winning my heart,” sighed Malon. “How could I have ever taken them all seriously?”

  “That’s not what I mean,” said Damon. “I guess I just wonder why you choose to be alone, when you don’t have to?”

  “I told you to stop with those thoughts, solas,” said Malon. “I’m not some lonely, wasting biddy. I have my reasons, both for remaining here at the farm and for preferring my own company.”

  Reasons which she apparently felt no need to elaborate on. Damon let the subject rest and instead enjoyed the atmosphere of the room as Malon slowly stirred the stew, adding pinches of pepper and a dash of crimson sap.

  CHAPTER 8

  “How are Vel and Ria doing?” asked Damon.

  He felt wistful as he thought of them, both nearly sisters in all but name. Vel, always trailing after him, blonde hair covering her eyes, threatening to tattle whenever she wasn’t included in his mischief. Ria, tall and fearless, the first Rem that he’d ever known and his touchstone against the prejudice that infected so much of Veridan’s Curve’s culture.

  “I sent Velanor to school,” said Malon. “It was expensive, but I did it.”

  “Aesta!” Damon grinned and would have pulled her into a hug had she not been still tending to the stew. “That’s wonderful! I remember how badly she used to pine for friends her own age. Going to school was her dream.”

  “I know,” said Malon. “Though it was a little heartbreaking for me to see her leave at almost the same age you left at. I had friends in Merinia who helped me find somewhere affordable but respectable. She took a ship from Silke to Hearthold alone at only twelve years. I was so worried, up until she crossed the sea and began writing back.”

  She gave Damon a severe look, and he accepted it without complaint or defense.

  “She’s doing remarkably well, Damon,” continued Malon. “She graduated at the top of her class and made friends in high places.”

  “Really?”

  Malon flashed a proud smile and nodded. “Since she finished her education, she’s been serving as the lady-in-waiting to Princess Kastet.”

  “Rovahn’s balls!” blurted Damon. “I mean… Wow! You’re sure she hasn’t exaggerated her circumstances a bit in the letters?”

  “She’s coming back to stay for a while,” said Malon. “She’ll be able to tell you all about it herself, and you can be the judge.”

  “She is?” asked Damon. “That’s perfect. I can’t wait to see her. It’s been so long. What about Ria? How has she been doing?”

  He saw the way Malon’s face grew serious and nearly had his answer before she even spoke.

  “It’s been a few months since she last returned home,” said Malon. “We… argued the last time that she was here. She’s been taking a lot of risks lately. I just wish she would be more willing to recognize that she isn’t invincible.”

  “She’s always been that way, though,” said Damon. “I remember how much of a wayward soul she was growing up.”

  “The situation is different now,” said Malon. “The tensions between the Remenai and the Merinians make it hard for someone in her situation. She’s clanless, and the other Rem know it. I’m the only person who would come to her aid if they decided to move against her.”

  “I would, too,” said Damon. “I thought she would have been able to earn their respect. She’s got so much innate talent when it comes to tempesting.”

  “The Rem don’t revere spellbloods in the same way that the Merinians do,” said Malon. “Which isn’t to say that Ria hasn’t made some progress in reaching out to the northern clans. It’s just been difficult for her. Aside from here, she doesn’t have anywhere to call home, and yet residing within the tower house has always stifled her as an adult.”

  Malon sighed. Damon moved to her side and set a hand on her shoulder.

  “She’ll be alright,” he said. “I hope she does come back soon. I miss her.”

  He’d always connected with Ria in a way that was different from his relationships with Malon and Vel. She’d encouraged him, even when his ideas were dangerous in the context of him as an adolescent. She’d been the one who’d told him that if he wanted to be a gladiator, then he should simply run away and be a gladiator.

  “I suspect she will.” Malon began pulling bowls out of the cupboard. Damon watched her set one with a small chip on the rim back, opting for a flawless one instead to ladle the soup for him into. She passed him the bowl and then blinked, gesturing over to the dining table as though only then remembering its purpose.

  The stew was a combination of salted beef, potatoes, carrots, and a hint of spice from the crimson sap, Malon’s secret ingredient. Damon let out an appreciative sigh as he tucked into it, despite it being nearly too hot for his tongue. It was better than the inn food that had become his standby, better than anything he could remember eating outside of Lady Adele’s court.

  “Damon,” said Malon. “I was going to write you again within the next few days.”

  He winced. “Look, I know that I should have been better about—”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Malon folded her hands over her bowl and stared into his eyes, her expression serious and full of gravity. “The world is changing around us, solas. Not just here, but everywhere that matters. I can only do so much to protect you and Velanor and Ria, and in very real sense, I’ll need your help in the coming days just as much as you’ll need mine.”

  Damon frowned slightly, unsure of what she meant, but entirely sure that he needed to tell her his own reasons for returning.

  “Aesta,” he said. “My father’s debts have been catching up with me again. There’s at least one group of men, thieves and footpads, truly, who’ve already made threats. Not just against me… but against here, and against you. I’m so sorry.”

  She nodded, eyes still serious, and then reached, taking his hands into hers. “There is no need to apologize. I’m simply glad that it was enough to motivate you to come back.”

  “Of course,” said Damon. “I’ll stay for as long as I can. Regardless of what threats face us and the farmstead, I’ll help you against them. I’ve grown strong, aesta. I can fight.”

  He stood up and pulled her into a hug, holding her tight against him. It was so different from hugging her as a child. The fact that Malon was a woman, full of softness and curves and femininity, was impossible to ignore. An uncomfortable truth, almost. She was a woman, and he was a man…

  She pulled back slightly, cupping his cheek. Damon felt his eyes dance to the side as though possessed by an uncharacteristic shyness. Malon stepped forward, her smile filled with pride.

  “Thank you, solas.”

  She kissed him softly on the lips. He was so surprised that he almost flinched away. But of course, she’d always kissed him like that. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. He used to fidget away in the manner of a child whenever she’d demand a kiss. He felt ashamed as he now realized he wanted the kiss to continue on for longer.

  He ran his hands along Malon’s hips. He felt her tense slightly, her posture a mixture of surprise and consideration. She set her hands atop his, and it was only then that Malon noticed his splinted finger. Her reaction was immediate. She let out a worried gasp, followed by a wince.

  “Oh, what did you do?” she chided.

  “It was… nothing,” he said. “I made a stupid mistake.”

  “I’ll resplint this as soon as you finish that bowl of stew,” she said. She sniffed the air once. “Perhaps after you’ve cleaned up a bit in the lake, as well. The journey must have been long and hard.”

  “Long and lazy, more like,” he said, with a smile. “But it has been a few days since I’ve had a proper bath.”<
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  CHAPTER 9

  Malon lit the travel lantern and carried it to the door, along with a towel cloth and a rounded pumice stone. Damon got the door for her, stepping out into the reasonably warm night. The stars were out overhead, along with Eldritch, the ghost moon.

  “I only have the one towel cloth, so we’ll have to share,” said Malon. “I gave one to Velanor when I left, and I think Ria borrowed one indefinitely during a previous visit.”

  “It’s fine, as long as we…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing the implication of her words. “Uh… You plan on bathing as well?”

  “Of course,” said Malon. “It’s so nice to crawl into bed after getting clean.”

  She kept her face stoic for a moment before flashing a teasing grin.

  “Relax, solas,” she said, playfully. “I’ll turn out the lantern once we reach the lake. We can find our way back easily enough in the dark once our eyes have adjusted.”

  “It’s fine,” he said, quickly. “I mean, it’s no big deal.”

  It was and it wasn’t. They’d bathed together numerous times when he’d been a child, but no amount of nostalgia could make it feel the same now as it had back then. He was a grown man, and averting his gaze from Malon was so much harder than it had been back then, through the eyes of an innocent boy.

  True to her word, Malon extinguished the lantern as soon as they reached the edge of the lake. The darkness silhouetted them both, and Malon set the towel cloth down and removed her slippers as she stepped onto the slender strip of beach they’d maintained, clearing grass and shifting sand each spring.

  “I’ll get into the water first,” she said. “Feel free to turn your back if it’s too much for you to handle.”

  “It isn’t… I mean… It’s just…”

  “I’m teasing you, solas,” she said, with a girlish giggle. “I’m sure you’ve seen women’s bodies in more detail in your time away.”