Michael Manning - Mageborn - The Blacksmith’s Son

Penny’s eyes misted and without thinking she hugged Rose, “I always wanted a sister,” but inwardly she already felt badly about the betrayal she knew was coming. She could only hope that Rose would someday recover once she was gone.

I was sitting up reading when Penny returned, and I was welcome for the distraction. As interesting as it was, A Grammar of Lycian was not the sort of book to keep you awake for long. I had been searching it and experimenting with some of the words I found there, trying to speed up my recovery. Inner exploration had shown me that while my lungs were both functioning now there was a lot of blood around one of them. I had spent considerable time trying to get the blood broken up so that my body could remove it more easily.

That turned out to be quite difficult, and I wasn’t sure what effect my efforts had produced, so I also worked on making improvements to my ribs and the muscles supporting them. I really wasn’t sure but I thought that I had them in good shape. They seemed to be aligned properly now and I had them fused better. I also experimented with some of the words I found in the book and they might in fact be stronger than normal ribs should be, but there was no good way to test the theory.

I resisted the urge to try anything with my brain. That way lay madness. I could tell however that the swelling was gone, and I did fix a small crack in one of the bones of my skull. Surely that couldn’t cause any unforeseen problems.

“You’re home early,” I said, trying to sound domestic. I’m also quite funny in addition to being brilliant. Honestly I am, I tell myself so all the time.

“Did you take that bath?” she asked. Penny seemed to have a one track mind sometimes.

“Have I mentioned how lovely you look?” My skills in the subtle art of noble discourse had been improving lately so I thought I might try a distraction. If only Penny would cooperate with my cleverness.

She leaned in, sniffing, and wrinkled her nose, “You stink.” The conversation went downhill from there and before long she had servants bringing in a large copper tub and buckets of hot water. Knowing all the staff made it terribly easy for her to find the people she wanted quickly. I would have been impressed with her efficiency if it hadn’t been directed at me.

Once everyone had gone (you would be amazed at how many people it takes to draw a proper bath), she gave me a hard look. “Strip,” she said. Somehow the way she said it managed to take all the sexy out of the word.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied, waggling my eyebrows at her. I’ll be damned it I let her take the fun out of the conversation. I was feeling quite a bit better at the moment, so I got my clothes off unaided and eased myself into the tub. The water was very warm, almost steaming.

I have to admit, it was the best bath I’d ever had up to that point in my life, especially considering I had a lovely woman to scrub my back. She even washed my hair; something I had never known could be so pleasurable. I closed my eyes and relaxed, I was in heaven. A splash caught my attention and I opened one eye, apparently one of the angels had come down to join me in the bath. Things got rather more interesting from there.

A while later we lay between cool linen sheets, recuperating. I couldn’t believe the good fortune lady luck had handed me. At that point I was too happy and contented to remember that lady luck is also a brazen bitch. I would regret that later.

Despite the covers, the bed seemed cold. I pulled the blankets up further. Penny snuggled beside me. “Mort, you seem awfully hot,” she said.

“That would be entirely your fault my little minx,” I pulled her in for another kiss and the room spun a little. “I do feel a little woozy though,” I added.

I had a fever. Not to point any fingers, but looking back I suspect it might have had something to do with my efforts to help my body reabsorb the excess blood in my chest. Messing with mother nature can be a mistake sometimes, she and lady luck are probably good friends. Penny was the very picture of concern and empathy. She pulled the sheets back, exposing me to the cold air. She must have been taking notes from mother nature and lady luck. They’re all in on it together I tell you, one big female conspiracy.

“What? No, no, it's cold! Gimme those back!” I’m a skilled debater when I put my mind to it.

“You have a fever and you need to cool off.” She refused to let me get the sheets past my waist. Without a doubt it’s because she wanted to gaze upon my chiseled muscles.

“I bet you tell all your fiancees that.” It made sense to me, but obviously I wasn’t quite as clear headed as I thought. Penny draped a wet cloth across my forehead. She didn’t seem too impressed with my attempts at humor.

After Penny had satisfied herself that I wasn’t in imminent danger of an early demise we lay uncovered on the bed. She still wouldn’t let me have the covers, but she did permit me to borrow some of her warmth. I rather liked her warmth. “Mort,” she asked, “I have a question.”

Even in my fevered state that set off my warning sensors. “What sort of question,” I replied guardedly.

“If I ever did something bad, something really bad, that made everyone else hate me. Would you still love me?”

What the hell kind of question is that? I thought, but I was wise enough to frame a better reply. “I would still love you. I know you well enough to know that you would have your reasons, even if they didn’t make sense to everyone else at the time. Why?”

“I just wondered, the past few days have changed so much in my life that I guess I need a little reassurance,” she said.

“A few days ago I didn’t even realize I loved you, so it’s a little early trying to figure out ways to get rid of me,” I smiled at her. Stupid never dies, looking back I can hardly believe I was so naive. I went to sleep dreaming of open skies, chasing a crazy tomboy of a girl through verdant fields. That has always been my best memory of Penelope Cooper. Even now as I look back I realize that was when I first fell in love with her. Somewhere in my heart she will always be that silly girl with grass in her hair.

Penelope woke early as was her habit. Mordecai still slept but his temperature had cooled so she drew a thin sheet over him. The ball was today. She looked at the dress hanging in the corner of the room. It was a beautiful combination of blue velvet and lace. She had tried it on with Rose the day before; amazed at how lovely it was when she looked in the mirror. It showed her bosom off to great advantage without being tasteless and the fabric draped gracefully down to accent her figure, exposing just a hint of her ankles. It was ironic that this would be the only day she would ever get to wear such a garment, and that Mordecai wouldn’t be there to enjoy seeing her in it.

I don’t want him there, she thought. That’s not how she wanted him to remember her. Considering that, she decided that perhaps she should write a letter. She couldn’t explain herself, but at least she could make sure he didn’t blame himself. She checked to make sure he was still sleeping soundly before going to the writing table.