I got back to the ledger room before my legs gave out, and then I stood with my back against the door and my hands shaking.
The salt ledger was open where I'd left it. Two years of my handwriting in that book, and not one page of it could keep my brother warm.
Boots came down the passage, slow, like the man wearing them had all night.
Caelan: You embarrassed me in my own hall tonight.
Avery: My brother is burning up in the healer house and that's what you call embarrassing?
I didn't stand up. If I stood I'd be close to him, and I didn't trust my hands.
Caelan: He's had a cough since Tuesday. You've had a face like a slapped ass since Rosalind got back.
Caelan: Don't stand there and pretend this is about the boy.
Avery: Send one rider. One. I'll take it out of the house money and do the accounts twice.
Caelan: There's no house money. There's my money, and I said no.
Mavis was standing in the gap of the doorway, and the tea in her hands had stopped steaming.
She'd come to sit with me. She didn't knock, and she didn't come in.
Caelan: You've got a husband, a house and a silver pin on your dress. You're being dramatic.
Caelan: Mavis. Out.
Mavis: I'll be in the passage, girl.
Dramatic. He said it with the door open, in front of the healer who'd known me since I was a child, and my whole face went hot.
Then he crossed the room and got his hand in my braid and pulled my head back.
Caelan: Say one more word about that boy in front of my pack and I'll put you on the pans with the men.
Caelan: And Mavis can find work on the road. Say it again and see if I'm joking.
Avery: Then do it. Take the pans and the pin and the room. Take the last thing too, why don't you.
The last word came out broken, and I hated the crack in it. His gaze slid down to my lips.
He kissed me hard, no asking, his mouth crushing mine and his fist still in my hair.
Caelan: You fight me with this mouth all night. Put it to something useful.
Then his hand slid beneath the cotton at my waist, climbed my side, and cupped my breast with a rough palm.
One slow sweep of his thumb over the hard tip and heat rolled through me, sudden and mean.
He pushed me back against the ledger table and got his thigh between mine, and I felt his cock hard against my hip.
I ground down on him before I could tell myself not to, and my pussy went wet and stupid for him.
I kissed him back. I got both hands in his coat and pulled him closer, and I hated every part of me that wanted it.
Avery: Don't stop. God, don't stop.
Avery: I hate you.
The door banged the shelf and Mavis stood in it, her sharp eyes going from his hand on my ribs to my face.
He stepped back so fast the ledger slid.
Mavis: You blind man.
Mavis: She's not dramatic. She's been starving in front of you for two years and you keep looking over her head.
Caelan: Careful, Mavis. You're a healer, not my conscience.
Mavis: No. If I was your conscience I'd have quit by now. I'm the one who counts what you throw away.
Caelan: We're done here.
He didn't look at me. He pulled his coat straight and went out, and his boots got quieter and quieter down the passage.
Mavis put the cold cup in my hands and said nothing at all, and that was worse than if she'd said everything.
I could still taste him. I still wanted him. That shame sat in me like a stone.
He'd called me dramatic to my face and then put his hands on me like the two things had nothing to do with each other.
I wanted someone with power to walk in and make him see me. A person. Not a pin, not a seat at his table.
Nobody was coming. So how do I get free of a man who holds all the power and none of the respect for my pain?