Pure

It was late afternoon before Finten was able to make it to Cara’s inn again. He washed carefully and changed into the least shabby set of clothes he owned before going to try to talk some sense into Maigred.

There were a few customers scattered around the dining area when he entered. He found a table in a deserted corner and sat down. The same girl who had brought him a cup last night came out of the kitchen and over to his table. “Hello, sir. What can I get for you today?” She had an uncertain look on her face.

“I just want to talk to Maigred.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the stairs that led up to the rooms. “She’s…she’s busy right now.”

“I can wait.”

“It might be some time, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir, my name is Finten.”

“I know, sir.”

FInten cocked his head, he thought she had looked familiar. “Are you Aoibh?”

A pleased little smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, sir.”

Finten gave her a nod. “It’s good to see you’re doing well.”

Her smile grew and she looked shyly down at her shoes. “Thank you, sir.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I’ll just wait for Maigred then,” Finten said.

Aoibh nodded and went back to the kitchen.

Finten leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. They’d had a shorter than usual work day today, but he was still exhausted. His healing slowed down every time Alvie did the payment ritual on him.

Aoibh was back.

Finten opened his eyes just as she set a bowl of stew and a plate of freshly baked, buttered bread on the table in front of him.

His mouth watered.

He swallowed and looked up at her. “Thank you, but…I can’t pay for this.”

She gave a little shake of her head. “You don’t have to pay. You’re our Tarasque. You’ve taken care of us, let us take care of you.”

His throat went tight. He tried to say thank you, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate, so he just gave her another little nod.

She went back to the kitchen and Finten stared at the bowl of stew for a long moment, feeling guilty he couldn’t provide a meal like this for his men. But not eating it wasn’t going to do them any good.

He lifted a spoonful of the stew to his mouth. It was heaven. Rich broth, savory vegetables, large chunks of flavorful meat. He quickly ate his way through the food and was drinking the last drops of the broth from the bowl when Aoibh brought out another bowl of stew and plate of bread for him. He thanked her and began eating it as soon as she set on the table.

The first serving had taken the edge off his hunger and he was able to slow down and enjoy this second serving a little more. He was nearly finished when he noticed Maigred coming from upstairs, carrying a tray of untouched food. She had a worried expression on her face. When she saw him her mouth tightened, but she didn’t look surprised to see him. She went into the kitchen.

Finten finished his food, resisting the urge to lick his bowl clean. Caevah had taught him it wasn’t polite to do that. He still didn’t understand why.

Maigred came out of the kitchen, her face tight. She was carrying the pile of gifts she’d offered him last night. Finten let out a slow breath and watched her as she made her way over and dropped the gifts in the center of the table, then down sat across from him.

She looked like she was ready to do battle.

“I’m not here to ask your gifts, Maigred.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

“I came to tell you to end this farce. If Hadeaon gets wind that you’re trying to start something under his nose, he’ll take it out on everyone. Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

A puzzled expression softened the anger on her face. “What do you mean?”

Finten raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head.

Finten let out a soft breath. “After Hadeaon defeated us, we came home. We mourned, we buried our dead. Then I gathered all of Caevah’s oldest acolytes and sent for a hearth maiden from up north to finish the the acolytes’ training, since all of our hearth maidens had been killed.

“I was hoping we could have a new hearth maiden and tarasque connected to our land to protect it before Hadeaon got here. He still had to fight his way through three other tarasque lords before he could reach our land, but instead of fighting him, they made a deal with him. They would let him through their land as long as he carried his conquest further north and left them and their people alone. Hadeaon agreed.

“When he got here and found out what we were doing-” Finten’s throat closed up. He dropped his eyes and stared at the gifts in the center of the table trying to will himself not to break down.

“That’s why so many people were executed? And why every man left alive in the territory, sixteen or older, lost a finger and every woman sixteen or older was…taken up to the manor when Hadeaon arrived in our town?” Maigred asked in a surprised tone.

Finten gave a sharp nod.

“Well, why didn’t you stop him? Why did you just let him move in and take over?” Her voice was full of anger and contempt.

The question sliced into Finten, too close to where his own rage and loathing lay. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a bark of bitter laughter. “Ask your friend Aoibh what happens when a tarasque who’s lost his wife tires to end his enemy.”

He shoved his chair back and stalked out of the inn before he could lose his temper.