Season notes: violence, death, attempted murder
“What would you offer me for his freedom?”
“No!” Mattin burst out.
Jahlene’s heart jumped, but she knew the truth. Knew the fear that ate at him even now, and how far he would go to protect his sister. “While you wear my collar, you are mine to dispose of as I will. If your sister wishes to bargain, that is her right. You can either be silent or leave the room while we speak.”
Mattin bit his lip, but was silent, his eyes beacons of pain and rage. Jahlene swallowed her own pain and turned back to Marta.
The girl was frozen, but after a moment shook herself off. “It does no good to offer you myself. That would be throwing away everything Mattin sacrificed for. And I have nothing else. Even the clothes I wear are yours.”
Jahlene nodded. “True, and even if you tried, your service would not be a fair trade for Mattin’s freedom. He is part of my family and critical to my household. You are a stranger of no particular skill. But you do have one possession, which would be most useful to me.”
Marta blinked. “What?”
“Information. No one here has asked you about Oeloff, at my orders. Your time there is your burden to share or not, as you choose. But if you chose, you could tell me a great deal about my enemy and his actions over the past several months.”
Distantly, she noted Mattin’s emotions didn’t change. His taste held no relief or pleasure at the thought of how easily he might gain his freedom. His fear didn’t fade at all, instead, the horror she tasted grew.
Unaware of her brother’s reactions, a wide grin spread across Marta’s face, and Jahlene tasted the girl’s triumph. “I could agree—”
“Marta.” Mattin’s voice was rough and deep. When Jahlene turned to look at him, he was staring down at his clenched fists, hair obscuring his face. “Leave.”
Jahlene shook off her shock, “Mattin—”
“Lady—Jahlene—unless you are going to silence me with glamour, shut up.”
Jahlene found herself staring at him, trying to understand. A faint sound drew her eyes to the door. Marta had slipped out. Jahlene had a vague recollection of tasting, faintly, the girl’s shock and horror before she took herself off.
Mattin glared at the wall behind her. She tasted no fear in him now. Just anger and determination. Not knowing what else to do, she nodded for him to continue.
“I told Brit once, what I wanted didn’t matter. I was wrong. It did matter, then. But it doesn’t matter now. You can take your collar from me with a thought. I can’t stop you.”
Jahlene found a bitter laugh building in her throat. Why in the world would he want to stop her? Didn’t he understand what she was doing?
Mattin cringed, but forged on. “I deserve that. I know how much I deserve your contempt, how often I’ve failed you.” Now Jahlene stared. She tried to wrap her mind around what he was saying, but…
“I’m not surprised you want to be rid of me. I know how much I’ve hurt you. I know just being around me hurts you. I wish my emotions were calmer, less painful for you. I don’t know how to change the way I feel—I don’t know how to stop hurting you.
“But I am not only your slave, Lady. You said yourself, I am part of your family. And,” he locked eyes with her, “the slave may need to accept in silence, but the… the brother will fight for his place at your side.” She blinked back tears as she tasted the love that had hidden behind his pain—love she had somehow been oblivious to.
Jahlene shook her head, trying to reconcile his words’ blazing truth with the emotions she had endured from him every day… “You dread being in my presence. Every time you come near me, I taste it.”
A part of her mind noted that she’d never seen anyone literally tear their hair out before.
“I hurt you every time I come near you! I’m supposed to be happy about that?!”
Like the world turned on its head, so many things took on new meanings. If he had been afraid of hurting her, and she had been hurt by his fear, and… and…
“Dear Dannu, what a mess!”
She didn’t even notice her legs going out from under her. Her bottom hit the edge of her chair off-center. She and the chair both went flying.
Mattin jumped to her side, helping her to her feet. As soon as she was steady, he jerked his hands away. Fear echoed in his mind, but she forced herself to look at it, to examine it. She let her glamour feed on the fear, as she had refused to all these months. And found the final proof. This fear wasn’t the fear he had felt when he first came. He had never believed his sister’s foolish claims. He had been afraid not of her, but for her.
She reached out, grabbing his hand in hers. He froze.
“I have no desire to be rid of you. And while yes, you have hurt me in the past, contempt is the last thing I feel for you. I thought you… If you were always afraid to be here—worse if you believed I used my glamour to keep you content—it would be better this way.”
He pressed his lips together. “Lady—”
She put a finger to his lips, shaking her head. “I promised myself once I would never again ignore your pain. That was, in part, why I did this, but I will not cause you worse pain by sending you away when you want to stay.”
His shoulders sagged and the relief she expected earlier flooded through him, like water over a parched throat. “Thank you, Lady. I will try to—”
She stopped him with another shake of her head.
“Don’t. You are not at fault in this. I don’t know how we can untangle this mess between us, but I do know that if there is fault, it is on me as much as you.”
She allowed herself to put one hand along the side of his face. “We will get through this.”
His rising joy was all the answer she needed. For a few minutes, she allowed herself to enjoy that connection with him.
“And now, my friend,” she grinned, “the slave can make amends for his behavior by explaining this to his self-appointed protector. I doubt she will be at all pleased with either of us.”
His smile as he bowed reflected the joy she tasted from him. She promised silently that she would try to be more worthy of the devotion he offered her this day.
She bent to pick up her chair when a thought occurred to her. “Mattin?” he stopped in the doorway, looking back at her. “I can’t say I ever recall your feelings for me being particularly brotherly.”
He flushed to the roots of his hair, a color she hadn’t seen in far too long, then ducked out of the room. She didn’t stop laughing until Brit appeared, demanding to know what was going on.
Marta said nothing when Mattin told her that Jahlene would not be bargaining with her for his freedom. Her eyes filled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She clung to him, and her tears dripped down his tunic.
He held her, rocking back and forth. He didn’t know how to help. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—believe the truth. And he wouldn’t abandon the mistress for Marta’s fears. No more than he would have abandoned Marta for his own.
Shortly thereafter, he learned that Marta had spoken with Housekeeper and was doing regular work about the manor. She made it clear she had no intention of leaving Mattin, and she was tired of not having anything to do. With spring-cleaning coming on, Housekeeper was happy to have an extra pair of hands. Marta stopped talking about Jahlene entirely. The anger on Mattin’s behalf that had carried her through two confrontations with the fae lady was gone. She stayed away from Jahlene as much as possible, and when she couldn’t, she did her best to disappear into the background.
It wasn’t ideal, but for Mattin, the relief was immense.
His relationship with Jahlene improved, also. She stopped keeping herself so distant, and—for the first time in months—welcomed his comments, suggestions, and even some mild teasing.
For Jahlene, it was like an old injury that had been plaguing her suddenly got better. After she spoke with Mattin, she buried her pride and opened up to Brit.
He listened to her, then started running his hands over her head.
“What in the world?”
“I’m checking for hoof prints. Damn sure it would take the Mare herself to get a thought into this skull.”
She rolled her eyes and asked if he had any advice for her.
“You’ve figured out most of it—finally. Just expect him to be wary. It’ll take him a while to believe you aren’t going to shut him out if he makes a mistake.”
She laughed. “I am a fool. But I’m not that much of a fool.”
So she did her best to ignore the continuing fear she sensed in him. To treat him like the friend she wanted him to be. He responded, opening up to her and slowly losing all but the faintest hint of wariness.
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