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  Seren sniffed and narrowed her own gaze at the creature. Claws and strange purring sounds aside, it did look rather relaxed sitting on Rori’s lap. Hesitantly, Seren reached out a hand, moving it just close enough for the cat beast to sniff. The creature did as Seren expected, sniffed her finger tips in an almost bored fashion. Then, it shocked her by pressing its forehead into her palm and rubbing against her skin. Seren yelped and drew her hand back.

  “What happened?” Rori breathed, his blue eyes growing wide. “Did Nola scratch you?”

  “No,” Seren said slowly, examining her hand. “She pushed her head against my palm.”

  Rori immediately fell back against the chair, using his fingers to scratch behind the cat’s ears. It’s purring grew louder, and its eyes drooped closed.

  “She wants you to scratch her, like this,” he exclaimed, making a show of his fingers massaging the back of her neck.

  He lifted his hand and reached out toward Seren. Stunned, she met him halfway and let him guide her hand down to the cat’s head. Again, the creature pushed against Seren’s palm, only this time the Fahndi woman didn’t jerk away. She mimicked Rori and dug her nails into the creature’s thick fur, scratching her as if she were attending to an itch on her own arm.

  “She really likes to be scratched right above the tail,” Rori whispered, showing Seren what he meant.

  She followed his lead, running her fingers down the cat’s back. Again, she was surprised when the creature stood suddenly, arching her spine against Seren’s hand. Seren continued petting the cat until Nola turned to regard her new friend. She let out a mewling purr and leapt down from Rori’s lap, crossing the small space between them with her tail held high in the air.

  “What is she doing?” Seren said, almost in a panic.

  The cat hunkered down on its hind legs and jumped onto the armrest of Seren’s chair.

  “Rori!” she cried, shrinking away from the large cat.

  Rori only laughed. “She likes you! I knew she would. She just wants to lie in your lap for a while. Let her settle down and keep petting her. She’ll be your best friend forever.”

  Seren regarded Rori as the cat did as he predicted. She placed one hand on Nola’s back and continued to pet her softly. Now, she could feel the purr of the creature, the gentle sound and vibrations passing through the surface of her skin. Rori was right. There was healing to this strange animal’s odd habit. Yet, it wasn’t this discovery which astounded her. Rori had said his cat would be her best friend now, simply because she had given it some attention. Was that all it took? Show a little kindness, and you could earn the trust of someone else? Was that how one made friends? Her mother had been the only one to ever show her kindness, so she wasn’t even sure if she knew how to be a friend. Perhaps Rori and this cat could teach her.

  As Nola purred her cat song and kneaded at the blankets with her claws, Seren continued to ask Rori questions about the manor house and the farm that surrounded it. He happily complied, describing the fields in spring when the new plants were beginning to grow and the pink and white blossoms of the fruit trees down in the orchard when they burst open like colorful, fragrant clouds. Seren, in turn, told him about the Weald and how all the animals came to life as soon as winter was over. She described to him creatures he’d never heard of before, and he stared straight ahead, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. She smiled at his enthusiasm, convinced that although he could see nothing, he had no trouble picturing what she related to him.

  “Are there faelah in the Weald?” he asked, after several minutes.

  Seren cocked her head and regarded him. Faelah? She had not heard of those before.

  “What are faelah?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  Nola rolled over in her lap, her paws now kneading at the air above her.

  Rori slowly sat back against his chair, the brightness in his eyes darkening to shadow. Suddenly, Seren regretted her question.

  “Faelah are the creatures created by the Morrigan,” he said, in a small voice. “They were once normal animals. Squirrels, possums, raccoons, foxes, rats, mice, skunks. She takes them and kills them, stealing their glamour for herself, then reanimates them, so they’ll follow her will. They are nothing more than corpses by the time she is done with them, and they go around the countryside killing other animals.”

  Seren sucked in a breath. Faelah sounded horrible, and the very description made her skin crawl. With great conviction, and some relief, she said firmly to Rori, “No. I have never seen any faelah in the Weald.”

  Rori released a breath Seren hadn’t realized he was holding. “I think I would like to go there someday, to the Weald.”

  The dark shadow which had surrounded him lifted away and back was the cheerful little boy. Seren let the unease of the conversation about the faelah pass, and instead, smiled lightly. “Perhaps I can take you there someday.”

  She knew, immediately after she said it, that it had been a mistake. Seren had no idea if she would ever return to her home, and it was wrong to offer such promises to Rori. To her surprise, however, Rori shook his head forlornly.

  “No. I can’t really go to the Weald. I can’t leave Ardun.”

  If Seren thought his statement odd, she didn’t have time to say so. In the next moment, the door leading out into the yard swung open, and Brennon stepped in, looking cold and wet.

  He continued to hold the door open with one hand, the rain falling in sheets behind him. Seren hadn’t even noticed the clouds had moved back in. She had been too absorbed in her conversation with the man’s nephew that she had blocked everything else out. Brennon gave Rori a curious glance before turning his silver eyes onto Seren. She tried to decipher what she saw there, to interpret their change in color, but like the rest of him, his eyes were impossible to read at the moment. The hunter’s mouth quirked up in the corner, and he gave a slow nod. “I see you’ve made a friend.”

  Brenn stepped all the way into the house and let the door close behind him. With one arm he indicated Nola, still purring upside down and clawing at the air. Seren couldn’t help it. She gave a full smile for the second time that day.

  “Yes, I have,” she said with more cheer than she’d felt since arriving at this place. And to herself, she added very quietly, “And I hope she doesn’t prove to be the only one.”

  Chapter Eight

  Adjusting

  The next handful of days passed by in the same manner, with Brennon rising early to tend to the needs of the farm. Rori joined him most mornings, only to return to the house to talk with Seren after a few hours. The boy was always there to help her get to know Roarke Manor better, and the cat Nola was a constant companion as well. Brenn often stayed away most of the day, but for all Seren knew, he could be off searching the forest for wild boar or simply working down in the barn. When he was around, he watched her from a careful distance across the room, as if waiting for her to transform before his very eyes. In all honesty, Seren couldn’t really blame him.

  Rori, however, seemed to be the one most taken with their strange visitor. Seren had no trouble entertaining him and grew to enjoy his company more with each passing day. Although she felt nearly healed by the second day of her convalescence, she hid the truth of it, careful to give a fake wince every now and then when she moved on and off her cot. Despite her improving health, Brenn insisted on feeding her broth, claiming bread and oatmeal couldn’t be enough to return her to her original health. After becoming sick on the fourth bowl, however, the man wondered aloud if the beef had gone rancid.

  “Beef?” Seren had asked in a small voice, her cheeks reddening.

  Brennon had to look away when she blushed. With her exotic skin tone, the extra color made her even more beautiful. And he couldn’t afford to admire beautiful women. Not with the demons he carried around.

  “I think that is the problem,” the Fahndi woman continued in the same tone.

  Brennon was forced to look back at her only to find her hands worrying away a
t the battered quilt stretched across her lap.

  “So, it has gone rancid.” He sniffed at the broth, but detected no foul odor rising from it. Puzzled, he glanced back at her. Perhaps she had a heightened sense of smell.

  Seren only shook her head. “No, I’m sure the meat is fine, it’s just–”

  She paused and bit her lip.

  Brenn prompted with a wave of his arm. “It’s just..?”

  The young Fahndi woman sighed hugely and looked at him with big, golden brown eyes. “My stomach has no tolerance for meat of any kind,” she finally said, her voice tinged with guilt.

  “Oh,” was Brenn’s response, as he glanced down at the bowl with a pained expression.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I, I’ve never been able to keep it down.”

  In fact, she was the only one of her kind, that she knew of, that had this problem. The Fahndi hunted all sorts of wild game, save for deer, of course. She had been taught to prepare it, like all those of her tribe. She just couldn’t eat it.

  “If that’s all it is,” Brenn said, standing up, “then, it’s easily fixed. I will put together a vegetable broth for you instead.”

  Before she could so much as thank him for his efforts, the hunter was gone from the room, on his way to the kitchen to prepare her new meal.

  Seren felt a fresh wave of guilt roll over her. Brennon had better things to do, she was sure, than cater to her each day. Surely, she was well enough now to prepare her own food.

  When the man returned nearly an hour later with a bowl of fresh broth, Seren leveled her eyes on him.

  “Despite my appearances, I am much healed,” she said. “I would like to start earning my keep around here. I can cook food for myself and for you and Rori, as well. And I can help with the chores that you and your nephew attend to each day.”

  Brenn set the bowl of soup down and opened his mouth. Before he could say anything, Seren held up a hand.

  “No, I insist. You have done more than enough to help me, and I am growing restless. If I am to stay through the winter as you wish, then I must do more than just lie here all day and eat your food.”

  Seren watched as Brennon worked his jaw, probably trying to come up with a good excuse to turn down everything she had just said. Seren kept her spine stiff, her arms crossed over her chest. She may have been sitting up on the cot, her legs covered in the thick quilt with the cat kneading away at her feet, but she would not let him talk her down.

  “Very well,” Brenn finally acquiesced, “but you will not be spending the rest of your stay here sleeping on a cot in the great room. You can move into the spare bedroom upstairs.”

  Brenn offered his hand and, reluctantly, Seren took it. Warm and calloused, his fingers closed around hers and easily pulled her to her feet. He then led her up to the room in question, an airy chamber through the first door they came upon at the top of the stairs. Before entering, Seren glanced to the left and noticed a large, ornately carved oak door closed at the end of the hall. To the right and along the lofted hallway was another doorway.

  “My room,” Rori pointed out.

  He had climbed up behind them and now squeezed between them, feeling his way down the open corridor.

  “If you ever need me for anything in the middle of the night, you can find me there. Unless, I stay the night in the barn.”

  The boy gave a toothy smile, and Seren couldn’t help but return it.

  “You are welcome to any of the clothes in the wardrobe,” Brenn said to Seren.

  She turned and blinked at him, forgetting the four poster bed and bay window that looked out over the southern fields and hills.

  “They were my sister’s, but she would be pleased to know they were being put to good use. The trunk contains needle and thread and other such things, so feel free to adjust them so they fit you.”

  Seren opened her mouth to protest; to tell him she couldn’t impose in such a way, but Brenn was already turning to leave, shutting the door behind him.

  Letting her breath out in defeat, Seren turned and pulled open the wardrobe. A few dresses, a bodice or two, several linen shirts and some men’s trousers took up most of the space. She spent the rest of the morning trying on clothes and deciding they were a little loose and the hems quite long on her.

  She furrowed her brow at the trunk resting at the foot of her bed.

  At least, I’ll have something to keep me occupied, she mused.

  She pulled a few tunics, a skirt and a pair of trousers from the wardrobe, then fished out the sewing supplies. With a final glance out the window, she got to work pinning, snipping and sewing.

  In the days and weeks that followed, Seren adopted a routine to match that of Brenn’s and Rori’s. She would rise in the morning to find them dressed and ready to go to work in the barn or to check the fields, despite the continued dismal weather. There were still a few crops to bring in and fences to mend and animals to tend to, and the sooner this work got finished, the better. Seren quickly trained herself to rise before her hosts and after a few lessons from Brenn and his nephew, she knew her way about the kitchen and pantry and could put together a hot breakfast for three. The first day she managed to accomplish this before the others had risen, Brenn had stumbled down into the lower level with a look of bemusement on his face.

  “What are you doing up this early?” he had wondered aloud, his eyes fixed on the bowl of scrambled eggs and hot biscuits sitting on the central table.

  Seren hid a small grin. She may not eat meat, but she loved eggs and, being the outcast child she was in her previous life, her mother and the Elder women who pitied her had taught her how to fix several types of dishes.

  “I told you I wished to earn my keep. This is the least I can do. Besides,” she sniffed, “I like preparing meals. The mixing of just the right ingredients, the savory scent that fills the air, seeing happy faces enjoy what I’ve created...” She cast him a mischievous grin. “It makes it all worthwhile.”

  Brenn crossed his arms and smiled back at her. He was wearing his customary dark deerskin trousers and sturdy boots, complete with a cream-colored tunic. He cut a striking figure, so much taller and broader than her people. She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger a bit.

  “With a speech like that, I hope not to be disappointed.”

  He stepped forward and pulled out a stool, and Seren gulped nervously. She was confident in her cooking skills and had felt so up until that point. His eagerness to try her food had her suddenly unsure of herself.

  The kettle hanging over the open flame began to steam and spit. Seren scurried over with a folded towel, glad to have a distraction as Brenn scooped eggs onto a plate. She took the kettle from the fire and poured the hot water into a teapot before setting the kettle onto the stone shelf surrounding the mouth of the cook fire.

  “Tea?” she asked, as she transferred the pot to the table.

  “Of course,” Brenn answered, while slathering butter onto a biscuit he had broken in half, the steam rising in curling tendrils.

  As she was fetching ceramic mugs for the tea, the sound of shuffling feet sounded from the stairwell. Seren turned to find Rori, his hair messy from sleep, and one fist rubbing at his eyes. He was dressed for morning chores but clearly still half asleep. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

  “What’s that smell?” he asked, his voice full of awe.

  “Scrambled eggs and what I presume are sausage links,” Brenn answered, around a mouthful of food.

  Although they no longer served him the way they ought to, Rori’s eyes grew wide and round.

  “Scrambled eggs? And sausage?”

  “Yes,” his uncle said, pouring himself a cup of hot tea before taking a lingering sip. When he was done, he drew in a great breath and let it out on a relaxed sigh. “And biscuits and fresh brewed tea. Better than mine,” he added, as an afterthought.

  “Really?” Rori asked, making his way to the table and clumsily pulling out a stool to sit across from
his uncle.

  Seren watched, her eyes prickling with tears, as Brennon fixed his nephew a plate with great care, picking only the best sausages for him. With a knife and fork, he cut the links into bite-sized pieces and broke another biscuit, adding butter and some of the fruit preserves she had found in the pantry. The Faelorehn man then nudged a fork across the table top, and Rori found it with his fingers. Using his other hand, he felt for the edge of the plate and started poking around for the food. Seren stood off to the side, watching the whole scene unfold. She was awed and profoundly touched by Brennon’s patience and Rori’s use of good table manners despite his blindness. If he needed encouragement, Brenn gave it to him in whispered words of kindness.

  Eventually, the hunter looked up and noticed Seren studying them. Immediately, she felt her face flush.

  “Why are you standing there, Seren? Will you not eat with us?”

  There was something different about his voice then, as if some of the coldness she’d seen so often surrounding this man had melted away. His look wasn’t as sharp either, and the icy silver which often colored his irises was now the warm grey of a gosling’s velvety down.

  Seren could only nod her acceptance as she pulled up a stool to sit at the end of the table, with Brenn on one side and Rori on the other.

  “This is very good, Seren,” Brenn indicated, the spread of food before them.

  His plate was clean, and Seren imagined he was still hungry (large, hard-working men often were), but just as he had done for Rori, he carefully put a plate together for her. Without the sausage links, of course.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, once he set the plate down in front of her.

  He nodded once, then got to work adding more of what was left to his plate.

  “Still hungry, Rori?”

  Rori bobbed his head, his cheeks stuffed with biscuit. His uncle laughed, adding some more eggs and sausage to the boy’s plate.