Shadows and Light

through the screen—which meant, he sincerely hoped, that she couldn’t see him.
    “I found some clothes for you. Can’t do anything about the boots, but the rest will do for the evening.”
    “Ah ... thank you.” Go away !
    “I’ll take your clothes. Anything in the pockets that can’t get introduced to soap and water?”
    “Ah...”
    “For a silver-tongued minstrel, you’re a bit stingy with words, aren’t you?”
    “I’m—” He knew he should meet that teasing with something sharp and witty, but his brain and his tongue failed him. After a moment’s silence, he heard her chuckling as she gathered up his clothes and left him alone again.
    He finished his bath and put on the clothes Breanna had left for him, then knocked on the adjoining room’
    s door. He found Lyrra there, alone, slowly combing out her hair. She wore a soft white shift that left her arms bare and fell just past her knees. The way she looked aroused him, and he wondered if she’d be interested in using the bed for something other than rest.

    Then she stood up to greet him and swayed to keep her balance.
    He crossed the room, put his arms around her, and led her to the bed.
    “You need to rest now,” he said quietly.
    “Don’t leave,” she murmured.
    “I won’t leave.” He settled them both on the bed, her head resting on his shoulder.
    “Do we have to go tonight?” she asked. “Nuala said we were welcome to stay.”
    Her voice, so carefully stripped of emotion, made a more eloquent plea than anything she could have said. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. They both were. This was a good place, a strong place, a safe place. They needed all those things right now.
    “We can stay tonight,” he said, brushing his lips against her forehead.
    She relaxed against him and fell asleep.
    A good place, a strong place, a safe place. He’d do whatever he could to help the witches who lived here keep it that way.
    It was his last thought before sleep claimed him.
    Breanna hesitated a moment, then opened Aiden’s and Lyrra’s saddlebags and removed all the clothing.
    They didn’t have a clean garment between them. What was the point of washing the clothes they’d been wearing and leaving the rest? Who knew when they’d have another chance to wash everything?
    With the clothing removed, there wasn’t much left in the saddlebags, which is why she noticed the sheets of paper tucked in special pouches in each of their saddlebags. Her fingers itched to pull out a few sheets to see what stories or songs might be written on them. Perhaps they had some new songs, something she hadn’t heard every other minstrel who came through the village sing. It wasn’t quite courteous to ask guests to sing for their supper, but, maybe, if they weren’t too tired, Aiden and Lyrra would be willing to oblige with just a song or two. And maybe they wouldn’t be too upset about someone looking through their papers to see if there was a new son or two.
    She firmly closed the saddlebags to avoid temptation, and said, “That’s all the clothing.”
    Glynis just nodded and dropped the clothes in the wash tubs. She stood motionless, her arms deep in the soapy water. “I didn’t mean to make the lady cry,” she muttered. “I thought it was Clay and Edgar coming in for a bite.”
    “Whether you meant to be hurtful or not, the words cut just as deep,” Breanna replied. “And even if it had been Clay and Edgar, it wasn’t a kind thing to say.”
    “Don’t know why I do things like that.” Glynis sniffed, then got on with the work of washing the clothes.
    You do it because you ‘ve also traveled a hard road, Breanna thought, walking across the small yard to the stables to check on the horses. You ’re like a dog that’s been hit so many times it snaps at any hand held out to it, even when it wants to be petted.

    Glynis had come to them three years ago, hungry and bruised in body and soul, looking for any kind of work that would provide her with food and a place to sleep. So they hired her as cook and housekeeper
    —and didn’t ask about a past they could sense held far more memories of pain than pleasure. Her way of dealing with other people, even people she liked and cared for, was to make cutting remarks. She usually felt regret as soon as the words were out, but that didn’t stop her from voicing the next opinion.
    Understanding that didn’t mean it could be overlooked, not when it hurt other people. But that was