Page 72 of Tusks & Saddles
“What is it, Welborn?”
He didn’t jump, but Welborn couldn’t conceal the sheepish expression that crossed his face. Clearing his throat, he cautiously shifted on his boot and extended the meager meal toward her prone form.
“Dinner. Sorry, it’s the same bread and cheese.”
“Half a loaf is still better than none,” Miss Eaves said before hauling herself onto her knees.
Welborn averted his gaze when she did so and he dared not think why. He was grateful when she took the food, sitting on her heels withGambler’s Luckpartially in her lap. She didn’t lift her veil so much as push the food beneath it.
“Miss Eaves,I—”
“Save it.”
Welborn’s eyebrows furrowed.
“But I—”
“Welborn, I said save it.”
He couldn’t tell what exactly caused the shot of annoyance to go through his shoulders. Honestly, in the moment, the reason didn’t matter at all. Only that she had the ability to make him feel that at all. No, Welborn could grapple with the complexity of being so intimately close yet so far away from her at another time. Emotions—of his own making or ones she inspired in him—those could be dealt with later.
“No.”
Miss Eaves paused, drawing the half eaten bread from beneath her veil. There was an opposing thought on the tip of her tongue, he was sure of it.
“I said no,” Welborn said, more firmly. “I can’t…save it, Miss Eaves. I need to get this off my chest otherwise I feel like I’m going to burst from the inside out.”
Whatever grace Miss Eaves could offer to him was given with her expectant silence. The weight of it wasn’t lost to Welborn as he exhaled, pulling his wits about him as best he could.
“My mother died because of me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Beatrix
Of all the things she had expected Welborn to say, admission of guilt was not one of them.
It was something Balthazar would have strongly argued against without the presence of legal counsel. Especially given that most people who could even afford legal counsel happened to be rich. Gold was everything in Ordia—whether Beatrix liked it or not.
However, Welborn wasn’t on trial, and she doubted that there was a soul around to judge him. No, the young man had given that privilege to Beatrix. She supposed it was only fair given how uncontrollablyangryshe had been at him over the past few days. No horse, no supplies, and worse of all, a limited amount of ammunition that Beatrix had to carefully manage.
Hear him out,a voice that sounded suspiciously like her father tickled her mind.
Reluctantly, Beatrix gestured to the patch of rough terrain beside her. If the holy man was going to confess his sins, she supposed he at least could take a load off. Dauntless Verity only knew how annoyed Beatrix was to have gone so long without a bath. Even with the aid of Welborn’s magic—well, magic cleaning wasn’t thesame as a good, hearty bath. There was something hollow to it, and Beatrix was certain Welborn wouldn’t have appreciated her describing a divine blessing that way.
Welborn sank to the ground as if the weight of the confession had released him from a heavy burden. He folded his legs, heavy boots awkwardly crossing near the ankle before him. Elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward, head hanging low enough that Beatrix could only make out the stubble along his chin. That bit of hair had surprised her when it first appeared.
“I…um…”
He swallowed.
“Take your time,” Beatrix said after a moment.
Welborn slowly reached for the glove on his right hand and slowly removed it. The sight of the hole in the center of his palm was still a bit unnerving, but Beatrix had seen stranger things. After all, there was a small nest of baby Sand Slithers nearby, waiting for the mama to return. One rumble away from being plucked from the boulder and given to the babies the way a bird would to its chicks.
The cleric stared at his hand, mouth turned down enough that the tiniest peeks of his tusks escaped his bottom lip. Whatever it was, it must have been more intense than Beatrix had originally thought.
“When I was…when I was younger, my family lived in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. It was just me, my brother, Boone, my mom, and my dad. It was pretty isolated. We had to travel pretty far to get to the nearest trader. Dad would haul lumber down the side of the mountain for some of the older folk, and mom would bring down fresh herbs to trade. Stuff like that.”
