“Thank you,” she said, squeezing me even harder.
“Don’t thank me,” I told her. “These are desperate decisions, and eventually we will pay the price for them. I just wish you didn’t have to pay with me.”
We didn’t waste any more time, and that night in our darkened bedroom, I bound a part of the earth to Penny. It wasn’t a decision I could change, but I still felt as though I were damning her to some terrible fate. Afterward, we lay silent and waited for sleep that would not come.
Chapter 12
The next morning arrived as it typically does, regardless of my wishes on the matter. Somehow, despite my lack of quality sleep, I wasn’t as tired as I might have otherwise expected. Penelope by contrast was positively energized. She was attempting to remain casual, but it was easy to tell that she was excited about the earth bond. There was an extra bounce in every step, and she went out of her way to move heavy items that she otherwise had no reason to move.
She was testing her new strength. Fortunately, since this wasn’t her first time dealing with enhanced physical power, she didn’t make any of the usual mistakes (as she had when she first became my Anath’Meridum).
“What are you doing now?” I asked as she dug through one of our older wardrobes.
“My armor,” she answered immediately. She was referring of course, to the chainmail byrnie I had enchanted for her long ago, when I had expected her to have to defend both of our lives regularly.
“It’s not in that one. It’s in the chest over there, near the bottom,” I indicated one of our heavy oaken trunks that stood in the corner of the room.
“Thanks,” she replied, as she stopped searching and went to open said box. As she pulled out the armor, she made an observation. “You really are frightening sometimes, Mort. I know you can sense objects at great distances, as well as being able to see inside of things, but how on earth can you spot something like this within a room full of so many other things so quickly? It doesn’t seem human.”
A smirk crossed my lips while I considered leaving her with her mistaken impression of my ability. Finally I decided honesty was the best policy. “The armor glows in my magesight, so it and the other enchanted items in the room stand out like fireflies.”
“Oh,” she paused. “I should have realized.”
“You aren’t planning on wearing it now are you?” I asked with some concern. I didn’t look forward to explaining the change in her physical prowess just yet. In fact I preferred to keep it a secret. The past had taught me that surprise was sometimes the best advantage one could have. Consequently, I now kept more secrets than anyone was aware of, even Penny and Dorian, though I had convinced myself that it was for their own good.
She gave me a knowing glance. “Worried?” The one word question held a host of layered meanings.
“Yes.”
“Me too,” she admitted, before leaning over to give me a kiss, “but I don’t plan on wearing it yet. I just want it close at hand when the time comes.”
That was a sentiment I could definitely agree with.
After that the day got underway. Shortly after breakfast we left the house and switched to our apartment within Castle Cameron. Lilly arrived at her normal time. She was feeling better and ready to resume her duties, for which I was very grateful. Penny left soon after, intending to start early. She still had a lot to do to prepare for Nicholas’ arrival later in the day.
My only duty for the morning was meeting with Dorian to discuss his plans and inform him of our new information, which wasn’t something I relished doing. As I was getting dressed Matthew found me.
“Dad, I have a question,” he began, which was his usual method for starting a conversation.
“As usual,” I muttered sardonically.
“Can I stay with Gram today?” he continued without noticing my remark.
That was a simple one, I thought to myself. “That should be fine. You can walk with me. I’m going to see Sir Dorian anyway. We can ask him when I find him,” I answered.
He nodded and I assumed he was done… until we got to the castle hall outside the entrance to our apartments. His face held an expression of serious thought when he spoke again, “Dad, I have another question.”
I smiled. “I should have suspected as much.”
“Why does Mom get angry at you?”
Startled, I looked down and found myself caught by his deeply curious blue eyes. My first instinct was to deflect his question, either by questioning his perception or trying to change the subject, but the honesty in his face disarmed me. My face softened as I replied, “Love… she gets angry because she loves us.”
His face registered confusion.
Stopping I gave him my full attention. “Think about it this way. Why do you get angry?”
Putting his hand on his chin my son assumed a thoughtful pose. I wonder where he learned that gesture. Do I do that? I wondered, but without an objective third person I couldn’t be sure. Then he replied, “I got mad yesterday when Moira kicked me.”
“When did she do that? Never mind, that’s a good example,” I told him. “You were angry because she hurt you, right?”
He gave an affirmative nod.
“Your mother gets upset with me, or you, for the same reason, because we hurt her, or because we might hurt her. The trick is figuring out how. Have you ever tried to hurt your mother on purpose?” I asked him.
“No,” he replied shaking his head vigorously. Damn, he’s cute, I thought.
“Have you ever seen me hurt her?”
He gave another negative head shake.
“So what do you think we might do that hurts your mother?”
Matthew thought for a while before eventually shrugging in defeat. “I don’t know Dad. It’s a mystery to me.”
The adult phrasing sounded so odd, yet serious coming from his lips that I almost burst out laughing. He definitely spends time around someone who has an interesting way of using words. I had to force my thoughts back on track. “Well, it is often a mystery to me as well, but through careful thought and a lot of experience, I think I have figured out a large part of it. Would you like to know what I think?”
That got a very strong nod; I had his curiosity fully engaged now.
“She loves us so much, that when we get hurt, or when she just thinks we might get hurt… it hurts her. The same thing holds true if you do something mean to your sister, or she does something mean to you. Does that make sense?” I asked.
Matthew’s eyes had widened a bit as my explanation sank into his mind. He was still thinking however, and after a long pause he spoke up again. “I think so, but I don’t understand one thing.”
“What’s that?” Somehow I knew it wouldn’t be as simple as one explanation. Matthew always had ‘one more’ question.
“Is this like your sword, except instead of something good, it’s something bad?” he managed to say with some effort.
I stared at him for a long minute before I had the gist of what he was asking. Then I realized he was talking about the story of the sword my father had made for me. I touched the hilt and asked, “You mean the sword your Grandpa Royce made for me?” The sword was plainly made, without much ornamentation. Royce had made it from the weapon of one of the assassins who had killed my parents, and he had given it to me when I had come of age. The lesson he had taught me with it was that good things can rise from the ashes of bad things.
Matthew’s answer was a simple, “Yes.”