Page 22 of The Lost Guard's Healer

Our gaze remains locked for a long moment. Her chest heaves with her rapid breathing and her lips are parted. There is something infuriatingly interesting about this woman, and I really don’t know what to make of it. I think I see something vulnerable buried deep within her stern eyes.

I take my chance to be the first to walk away and do so, not looking back. Firebugs dance in the night air. With the bonfire in the center of the field sending golden light into the star-filled sky, and the whimsical music in the air, there is a dream-like quality to the evening.

Either I have become severely weak lately, or the Shanti wine is fiercely potent stuff. This is my second cup this evening, but it feels like I’ve had an entire bottle of red.

I was told that the merriment of the villagers is the gift they give the land, to pass their festivities and good hearts into the earth and pray for goodwill to come back to them.

Aldus is near a round table speaking with a few elderly people I haven’t seen before. A large canvas has been laid beneath the table and chairs, and there is a great bounty of food and drink on the table. This seems to be an important group of people.

When I see Leila rushing about nearby, breaking up a playful fight between her two boys, I go over to her. She has given the boys a stern warning to behave and sent them on their way by the time I reach her. She smooths out her floral dress and smiles at me.

“Those two boys are going to kill each other one day,” she says with a heavy breath. “Or me.”

“They are spirited,” I agree, having to raise my voice as we’re closer to the musicians. “I was the same with my brother.” I catch myself before I mention Arthur. I still don’t want them to know I’m the brother of Arthur Bearon, the new ruler of the Oathlands.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Leila says.

She has a pleasant air about her and a hint of a smile always on her lips. A stark contrast to the gruff stiffness of her sister. She is only a few years older than Galene, but there is a tired look to her smooth features, with faint dark circles under her eyes and distinct furrow lines.

I change the subject by looking over at Aldus. He kneels at the table, speaking with two of the five elderly people. They all have indistinct ages but look well into their nineties at least, fragile and shriveled with age.

“Those people with your father. They are the village elders?” I ask.

“They are,” Leila says. “That’s right, you haven’t met them yet.”

“To be honest. I wasn’t even sure if they existed.”

Leila giggles. It’s a lovely melodic sound. “Of course they exist. I can see you want to speak to them, but I’ll have to strongly discourage that. They are a highly private group, and we have our ways. They do not hold audiences with strangers.”

She regards me while I study the old people at the table. “Trust me. You don’t want to overstep.”

I initially think that’s a warning, but I realize her words come from a place of concern. “I do trust you,” I say. I don’t fully believe that, but I feel like I’m on my way to it. Leila and Aldus seem to be the most trustworthy people I’ve met in the village.

“Good,” she says with a smile. “Because you should.” Her face hardens when she sees something behind me. “Oh, those two are at it again,” she says with a sigh, and rushes off toward her warring boys.

The boys’ boisterous play takes me back to simpler times when Arthur and I would compete to see who was the strongest brother. For many years, as the oldest, I would hold that title, but after Arthur’s growth spurt, he eventually had the largest physique.

In a way, that had pushed me to become my best self. I would train and work hard to prove I was not the weakest brother, and it wasn’t until many years later that I would realize I was only competing against myself.

Leila looks back and gives me another smile as she goes away. I find myself smiling back. I can see becoming friends with her, given how easy she is to speak to and how pleasant her company is.

And yet…

Galene is near the bonfire, helping an older lady stand up. While she has a hard, prickly edge with me, I’ve seen how kind and caring she is. How good her heart is.

A somber smile comes to me. Galene’s hatred of me reminds me of how I’d first met my wife all those years ago. Galene has a similar fire and stubbornness within her.

It has been over ten years since my Sia left this realm, and this is the first time I’ve seen a glimpse of her in someone else. I’m not sure how to feel about that, especially when the face I see her in is one I have no chance of a future with. Not any kind of future. She will be here, with the Shanti people, and I will be in the Oathlands. She will forget my name before the year is over, and I can only hope to have the same luck.

I stroll around for a while, greeting a few familiar faces and picking up my third cup of wine.

The festivities and crowd become too much for me and I feel like taking a moment to myself. I’d like to check on the watch guards to see if they are keeping to their posts and looking out correctly. I’m sure they are in need of a lot of advice and instruction, as no one here is a trained soldier.

I reach the path between a row of tents and see someone is ahead, walking up to me. The young girl has a cascading river of blonde curls that bounces about her as she giggles to herself about something. Her dress is low and cut in a flattering style that emphasizes her full breasts and shapely legs. I’ve seen her around, I think.

She perks up and stops when she sees me. “Oh. Hello there,” she says, her voice breathy and light.

She slinks closer with a mischievous smirk and a gleam in her green-blue eyes. She knows how strikingly alluring she is.

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