Page 17 of Awariye

Wren nodded, then closed his eyes for a long moment, bidding the gods farewell. Once done, he looped an arm through mine and led me outside. "I'm sure you can find inspiration for your songs once we're in the open air."

* * *

I only had the tattered rags I'd brought with me, having sold everything else off, so Wren bundled me up in his coats and then piled on Ulbrecht's things for us to head outdoors. The fact that my friend was now lovers with a powerful warlord still hadn't fully sunk in, but as he wrapped a blanket embroidered with the Danubian dragon over his shoulders, that truth stared me in the face yet again.

"I'm happy for you, but I can't believe you're with Ulbrecht..." I trailed off.

Wren blushed, though the chilly air surely contributed. "And you're cuddling with his top fighter. You can kick Igor out anytime you want, Awariye. You're my guest; that bed is yours."

I thought about the handsome man who had taken care of me when I'd been delirious from fever, helping me get to the restroom in the middle of the night and holding me for two weeks. I had only snippets of memories from that time, but I could swear I'd felt his hardness a couple of mornings as he spooned me from behind. I just hoped that wasn't my subconscious cooking up steamy dreams that weren't real.

Wren held a question in his eyes, but I shrugged because I didn't know where Igor and I stood at all.

"I want him to stay in my bed, but he might opt to sleep in the lodge house now that I don't really need him there helping me. I wish I knew what he thought of me…I’ve been recovering, sure, but I’ve also been dreaming about us sleeping together as lovers," I said softly. Just voicing this longing and uncertainty aloud made me ache.

Wren squeezed my arm. "Igor is very sweet, Awariye. If you want him there, I hope he stays."

"I do, too."

We walked in silence a while, circling the castle and taking advantage of its ability to block the cold wind.

In the distance we could hear men’s voices and feel vibrations on the ground from their running. Wren and I slowed as we were just about to turn the corner where they would come into view. We didn't want to distract anyone from their training.

Wren hummed and I quirked an eyebrow up in question at his mirthful tone. My friend's grin was all too pleased, mischief lighting up his eyes.

"Want to do a review of our training while you're here?" he offered. "It's always a good time to do drills on exercises from the monastery—the dark months are perfect for it!"

I laughed, definitely seeing that he wanted me here for the winter badly enough that he was willing to mentor me. "Twist my arm, why don't you? Of course I'm game, though you will have to keep up with my bardic diaphragmatic exercises."

We ran through our breathing exercises and filled the cauldrons in our bodies along the mid-line, which was where the traditions fostered at the monastery trained to channel the life force. My cauldrons felt pretty empty, to the point where I could barely feel them there, especially the earthen current of vitality and healing. I would need to pay close attention, to refill things slowly as I recovered, so I didn't strain the energy flows and my nervous system.

What responded immediately, however, was my solar plexus, glittering with white light. I pressed my right palm over it, and even Wren noticed in his astral vision and yipped in delighted surprise. Cupping both hands over the juncture where both sides of my rib cage met, I smiled with pleased contentment as my solar plexus sputtered and sprayed colors on the astral plane, like a sparkler on New Year's Eve.

It made sense that my cauldrons were drained from my health issues, but it also made sense that my solar plexus would aggressively try to recover as soon as it could. In magical terms, it was the portal of subtle energies into the body. Breathing white light, the color of balanced spirit, through one's solar plexus brought one's higher self closer to them. For us bards, it was an especially active place, because the solar plexus rested on the diaphragm like a cow lounging in a field, and we loved our deep diaphragmatic breathing.

A large man rounded the corner with his arms full and nearly ran into us. My breath caught when suddenly Igor was standing right in front of me.

Before I could stop gawping and close my mouth, Igor smiled and said, "Hallo, Songbird."

"Songbird?" inquired Wren.

Igor looked bashful and glanced my way. "Awariye has started humming while he dreams, like a songbird trying to sing while asleep."

"Awww," Wren cooed, hooking his arm through mine as my cheeks burned. "Awariye, that sounds just like you."

"If I'm a songbird, then you'rekuschelig, Igor," I quipped back playfully.

Wren laughed. "Cuddly, huh, Igor?"

Igor's cheeks were as red as mine felt. "It's good to see you outside. I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Thanks to you," I replied, hoping my affectionate teasing wasn't going too far for him.

He met my eyes then and smiled, shifting the bundle in his arms that might’ve been packed lunch for the fighters. "Anything for my songbird."

"You two are so cute!" Wren chirped, and we all ended up laughing.

We told Igor goodbye and let him return to training. My energy was waning, so Wren and I popped back inside for a quick nap.

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