Bonemender's Oath Read Free Page B

to marry you, then yes—though I could grow gray as my father waiting for you to spit it out!”
    S TOPPING BY THE kitchen to speak to the cook, Gabrielle was surprised to see Derkh in the scullery, scrubbing out cook pots. She raised her eyebrows questioningly at the cook.
    “Oh, him. I thought he was terrible snooty at first, you know. He never spoke a word to the one of us. But after a few days, he come to me private and asked if I had work he could do. I reckon he’s just shy to speak with that horrid thick tongue of his. Not much wonder, either.”
    “No,” said Gabrielle. “Not much wonder.” Poor Derkh, she thought. I’ve been a neglectful host. There had been little time for entertaining anyone, and in fairness Derkh had made himself scarce since his discharge from the little infirmary. Still she felt a stab of remorse to find him up to the elbows in dishwater. Yet...she was proud of him too. Honest work was healthier than idleness.
    “Can you tell Derkh?” she asked the cook. “Not now—after I’ve gone.” She didn’t know if it would shame him to be seenplaying the pot-boy, and she wasn’t about to find out. “Just say I was looking for him and would like to speak with him. Tell him I’ll be in the clinic for the next while.”
    D ERKH EDGED INTO the little clinic and stood just inside the door. He felt ill at ease everywhere in Chênier, even with Gabrielle. She treated him just as she always had, like an equal. But for Derkh, her rank—and his—had opened a chasm between them so wide it was a struggle to speak across it.
    “Did you want to see me, Gabrielle?”
    “Hi, Derkh.” Gabrielle bent over the bottles she was filling and labeling. “I’ve hardly caught sight of you lately. You know, things have been so busy around here I’m afraid I’ve left you to fend for yourself.”
    “I don’t mind.”
    “Well, I wanted to ask you for a favor. I’m riding up into the hills tomorrow to gather herbs. Would you come and help? Mother worries when I go into the woods alone, and I don’t want to ask Tristan. I know he’s hoping to see Rosalie.”
    Derkh hesitated, but the prospect of a ride and an afternoon away from the complexities of life in Chênier was too much to resist. “Sure. I’d like to.”
    “Great. Meet me at the stables right after lunch. All right?”
    Derkh nodded, then frowned. What if he arrived before Gabrielle and was questioned? Would they believe he had business with royalty? Would they even understand his speech? Just picturing it made his teeth clench. “Uh, can you tell someone at the stable I am coming?” he asked. “So I don’t have to explain why I am there?”
    “Of course.” She looked down at her work once again, butDerkh had the uneasy feeling she was really looking inside of him. Her question, though, was casual. “Are they feeding you all right?”
    “Sure,” he said. “The food is good. That cook, she looks mean, but she’s all right.”
    Gabrielle smiled. “She used to make a great show of scolding Tristan when he was little and then slip him sweets and treats under the table. It was a little game—anything he wanted, as long as he didn’t ruin her reputation for an evil temper.”
    Derkh laughed, and things became easy between them for a bit. “Our cook was something like that too,” he said. “Maybe it runs in their blood.”
    T HEY HAD WORKED for a good hour before Gabrielle broached any serious talk.
    “Derkh, how is it for you here?” she asked. Her eyes, the green of a forest pool, rested on him.
    His gaze slid away to scan the horizon. “I’m very grateful for everything,” he said. “People have been very kind.”
    She waved a grubby hand impatiently. “I’m not fishing for gratitude. Look, you and I have been through too much together to resort to polite lies now.” This time his eyes met hers. He had been in agonizing pain from a sword to the gut, and Gabrielle on the verge of collapse, when his father had thrust her