Impossible Things (24 page)

‘About what I said on the sled. I don’t want to spoil things between us—’

‘It’s fine.’

‘You keep saying that, and yet you’re behaving like—like—’

‘Like I did the last time you tried to seduce me?’

She said it coolly, but he saw the tension in her face. Kael squirmed.

‘Well, er … yes.’

‘You know what?’ Ishtaer said, leaning back against the counter and looking wearier than he’d ever seen her. ‘I am so tired of being afraid. I hate it. I hate it that when a man touches me I want to cringe or run away or beat him to death.’

‘It’s an improvement on just cringing,’ Kael offered, trying for levity.

‘I shouldn’t feel like that. I don’t want to. But it’s so hard, I just …’ She scrubbed her hands over her face. ‘Have you ever stood at the top of a cliff, or a high building, and felt the drop pulling at you? And just staying up there is so hard?’

Kael nodded. Then, remembering himself, said quietly, ‘Yes.’

‘It’s more like clinging to a cliff,’ she said. ‘A cliff above a volcano or, or a pit of monsters. You know if you let go you’ll suffer a world of pain and you’ll never come back, and there will be nothing left of you, but just holding on is so hard. And climbing up is almost impossible.’

She stood three feet away. He wanted to go to her so badly, to hold her and tell her everything would be all right.

But you can’t make it all right, can you, Kael?

‘When the Hunt rode into the yard today I thought first about defending Brutus, then the horses, and it never occurred to me that I deserved defending too. I get so angry with myself. It took me
how long
to be comfortable with you? And then one comment and we’re back to the start again.’

‘I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry.’

‘Yes, so am I.’ She straightened up. ‘I don’t think I’m fit company tonight. You should go and get some sleep after that drive. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She stood there, tall and strong and resolute, and fragile and vulnerable and hurting so badly he’d have done anything to make her better.

‘What can I do?’ he asked softly.

She stared out at nothing. ‘Damned if I know.’

He raised a hand, and let it drop futilely. Then he screwed up his courage, walked over and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

‘You’re not damned at all,’ he said, and left.

After he’d gone she stood for a long while, leaning against the counter in her workroom.
You’re not damned at all
. Yeah, that was all right for him to say.

I can’t see. I can’t bear to be touched. I talk to ghosts and mythical beings. I spend half my time trying desperately not to be a terrible wretch.

I feel pretty well damned.

But Kael didn’t treat her like that. No one in Skjultfjell treated her like that, and as for the people she’d met in Utgangen, they seemed to be pretty in awe of her. All right, so this place wasn’t exactly a microcosm of the real world, and if she went back to the Empire she’d be back at the bottom of the heap, raised up only by her connection with Kael and these bloody marks all over her skin. Lady this or that didn’t matter when everyone remembered you as the skinny, pathetic slave and they’d seen you beaten every day in the training ring.

You could just never go back.

But what good would that do? Hiding away here forever, like a coward? Ishtaer was well aware that she was a coward, but she was never going to face down her demons if she ran so far from them that the only safe place was this castle on the edge of the world.

And that worst demon, the one that crawled over her skin whenever anyone spoke of sex or lust, she was never going to conquer it by pretending it didn’t exist. She dealt with its consequences daily, for heaven’s sake; every pregnant woman in the castle came to her at some point. She played with their children and listened to them brag and moan about their husbands.

Just because I want you doesn’t mean I have to have you. It’s just that I don’t want another woman.

She ate with Verak and Klara every day and their affection for each other was palpable even from the other end of the table. Once or twice their older children had cried, ‘Eurgh, Mamma, stop kissing Papa, that’s disgusting!’ and Klara had replied, ‘When you fall in love like I have, you’ll do a lot of kissing too.’

Klara had found a good man, who loved her and respected her, and clearly they found a lot of pleasure in each other. And for the first time in Ishtaer’s life, she was jealous.

Despite Kael’s best efforts, the story of Ishtaer and the Wild Hunt spread through the castle quicker than a forest fire. As with every other story he’d heard about her, it soon became wildly exaggerated, with fire-breathing giant Huntsmen and hellhounds the size of stallions. Ishtaer had, according to rumour, screamed some exciting, inspirational and snappy lines at the invaders, his favourite of which was, ‘You shall not take this place! It! Is! Defended!’

‘I never said that,’ Ishtaer muttered as they passed a family retelling the story amongst themselves.

‘No, I think Eirenn was responsible for that. Don’t worry about it. It makes people feel safer that there’s someone here who frightened off the Wild Hunt.’

She frowned at him, but said nothing. Three days into the Dark, and everyone was getting bored and fractious. Stories were one of the best ways to pass the time, and Eirenn was pretty good at telling them.

‘Are you looking forward to Midwinter?’

‘Yes,’ she said, and added, ‘although I don’t really know what to expect. In Ilanium it was all visits to the Temple and prayers and readings I didn’t understand.’

‘Well, here we have visits to the longhouse for feast food and stories even the kids can understand. Uh. I did mention to you about Midwinter gifts, right?’

She smiled. ‘Yes, you did, and I went shopping in Utgangen with Aune.’ She hesitated. ‘We must write and find out how she’s doing, after the Dark.’

He smiled at the ‘we’. ‘Absolutely. But I did enquire about her sister and it seems she’s a stout farmer’s wife who has been known to intervene in fights between full grown men and come out the champion.’

‘A fierce pair of sisters.’

‘Yeah. I think she’ll be all right.’

‘I hope so,’ Ishtaer said quietly.

‘You can’t save everyone, Ishtaer.’

‘Neither can you,’ she said, and his heart clutched.

He thought again about the gift he’d bought, totally on impulse, walking back from the town hall in Utgangen. The covered market, the only way to shop in such frigid temperatures, was warm and glowing and he’d wandered through, looking for trinkets for the boys for Midwinter. What he hadn’t expected was something calling out to him from one small stall, crying like a siren that it would be perfect for Ishtaer.

He hoped she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. And then again, a small secret part of him hoped she would.

That night they sat around the huge fire in the longhouse, a fire that would burn continuously throughout the Dark, and told stories. Eirenn told once more his very popular and heavily embellished version of Ishtaer’s encounter with the Wild Hunt, and she sat there smiling, saying nothing. Between them sat Garik and Durran, the younger boy curled up against Ishtaer’s side. She put her arm around him, whispered something in his ear that made him smile, and turned her attention back to Eirenn.

Kael’s heart ached at that, even worse when Mags caught his eye and sent him a very speaking glance.
We look like a family
, he thought, and wished painfully that they were.

When Durran finally drifted off, halfway through Old Alvar’s traditional tale of how the Wild Hunt came to be – traditional in that he traditionally never told it the same way twice – Kael glanced over and saw that Garik was fast asleep, and Ishtaer was about to nod off too.

He nudged her gently, and to his delight she barely flinched.

‘The boys are asleep,’ he said. ‘We should get them to bed.’

She nodded and rose gracefully with Garik already in her arms. But when she headed towards the door leading to the part of the castle where they slept, Kael stopped her. ‘No. In here.’

‘Here?’

‘Yes. It’s traditional to spend Midwinter night all in the same room. Some people even spend the whole Dark in their longhouses. I guess it goes back to when the longhouse was the only room there was.’

‘But, the beds …’

‘Follow me.’

The benches around the edge of the longhouse were used for storage, and tonight they’d been packed with bedrolls and blankets. He made up a couple for the boys, close by each other, then another for himself and, casually, one for Ishtaer too.

‘It’ll tickle them no end to wake up with Brutus next to them,’ he added, and Ishtaer nodded, looking slightly uncertain. ‘You don’t have to stay here. You can go somewhere else, or back to your room if you like.’

She bit her lip and turned her head back to the huge central fire and the group of rapt listeners. Ishtaer was the only castle resident who hadn’t gone chalky white in the dark of the midwinter, where the weak sun showed for less than twenty minutes a day, and her bronze complexion turned golden in the firelight. Her hair shone like a crown.

I love you, Ishtaer,
he thought, and wasn’t even surprised by the idea.

‘I’ll stay,’ she said, and he smiled.

In the morning, he woke to the excited chatter of children and the equally excited deep bark of a big dog. Durran was teasing Brutus with a lamb bone, and the dog was feinting cleverly from left to right, before leaping on the boy and licking his face.

‘Eurgh!’ Durran laughed, and Kael grinned.

‘Teach you right for teasing him, lad,’ he said.

‘Mamma gave Brutus the bone as a Midwinter present!’ Garik cried. ‘I didn’t know dogs got Midwinter presents!’

‘Everyone you love gets Midwinter presents,’ Ishtaer said, and he turned to see her sitting up in her pallet, looking tousled and flushed and so incredibly desirable Kael was very glad of the blankets covering his lap. He sat up hastily, rearranging folds of fabric.

‘Yes, they do. Go and fetch your shoes, and bring mine and Ishtaer’s too,’ Kael said, and the boys hared off through the busy longhouse, half full of people sleeping, the other half groups sitting around exclaiming over small gifts.

‘Shoes?’ said Ishtaer. Her own were nearby as she, like most people in the longhouse, had slept in her clothes.

‘It’s more of an expression. The tradition is that gifts are left in your shoes. I don’t know why. It really only works for very small items, and since often a lot of people receive new shoes for Midwinter, it’s sort of evolved to a small bag or pile of gifts. We still call it the Midwinter Shoe.’

He glanced around. ‘Mags looks like she’s opened hers with her sister’s family.’ He frowned. Mags always stayed with the boys at Midwinter. He’d expected her to lay a pallet down near his, but he’d fallen asleep thinking of Ishtaer nearby, and this morning …

What was she playing at?

‘Papa, Papa,’ cried Durran, giddy with excitement as he ran back carrying two cloth bags and reverently placed one of them by Ishtaer’s pallet. His heart started beating faster.

‘Thank you, Durran,’ Ishtaer said, giving him a hug.

‘You’re welcome,’ the boy beamed, and Kael smiled at his excitement.

Garik ran up with his own bag and Kael’s. ‘Look how many gifts!’

‘Because you’ve been a good boy this year,’ Kael told him with a hug, ‘and I told you if you learned your letters you’d be rewarded. Show me what you’ve got?’

The two boys eagerly pulled out small toys and gifts of clothing from the bag. Ishtaer had bought them small wooden animals, and his heart constricted at her worried expression before she realised they liked them. Mags had made them new mittens and Kael wooden swords and shields. Even Eirenn had contributed, with small handmade wooden flutes which, he explained when he sauntered over, were traditional in his part of the world.

Small boys with noisy toys. Kael gave Eirenn a look, which was returned with far too much innocence.

‘Now you, Papa, now you!’

Mags always gave him the same gift of a scarf, and Verak of a knife or other small weapon, and this year was no different. Durran and Garik had made him pepparkakor with wonky icing decorations, which he praised profusely. Ishtaer had given him a small dagger with crystals in the handle, which he was pleased with until Eirenn said, ‘Hey, just like mine,’ and produced a slightly different one.

His heart plummeted.

She thinks of the two of you the same.
Kael glanced over at Verak and Klara. Verak held a similar dagger in his hands.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to get you,’ Ishtaer apologised.

‘A man can never have too many weapons,’ he said lightly. ‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’

Now I feel
really
stupid.

Because next the boys urged Ishtaer to pull out her presents, while Kael calculated the chances of ripping the bag out of her hands, extracting his gift, and handing it back while pretending to have just, say, tripped over. Slim.

She took out the pepparkakor shaped like animals which, his sons explained eagerly, were wolves, ‘You know, like Brutus!’ Ishtaer gracefully said she was sure they did, and Kael hid a wobbly smile because he was sure they didn’t.

Eirenn said, ‘My present was too big,’ and handed her a bow the perfect size for her height, complete with a quiver of arrows. ‘So we can practise together,’ he said, and got a hug for his troubles. Kael wanted to howl.

By now Mags and Verak had wandered over to thank Ishtaer for their gifts, and they watched as she opened Kael’s gift.

He wanted to pull his pillow over his head.

‘It’s crystal,’ Ishtaer said, even before she’d taken it from its velvet wrapping. ‘Jewellery?’

He looked at the stones in their silver setting, a glittering rainbow with a large pale blue stone at the centre, the colour of her eyes.

‘A necklace,’ Mags said. ‘Here, let me help you put it on.’

Eirenn cottoned on first, his sharp gaze swinging to Kael, who pretended to ignore it.

‘You can’t go about with that scruffy bag around your neck any longer,’ he said.

‘Hey, I made that scruffy bag,’ Verak said, but the jocularity in his voice seemed strained too.

‘It’s lovely. You’re too generous,’ Ishtaer said, caressing the crystals with her fingertips. He could remember their warmth, the way they’d sung to him softly as he’d picked them up off the stall in Utgangen.

‘It’s very … Ilani,’ Mags said slowly, glancing from the necklace to Kael and back again. He swallowed.

‘Yes, right. Ishtaer has a place in Ilani society. Whenever she goes back she’ll want to look the part. Right, Ish?’

She was still caressing the necklace, feeling how it was made of one smaller chain fastened to a larger one. ‘Yes. Thank you. I love it,’ she said, smiling in his direction.

‘
Promise
you love it?’ asked Eirenn with a look of loathing in Kael’s direction.

Ishtaer looked puzzled. ‘Yes. I—why? Does it look wrong on me?’

‘No, it
engages
with your skin tone very well.’

‘Eirenn,’ Mags said sharply, shaking her head. He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head and clenched his fists.

‘Why don’t you boys come to the kitchen and help me with some of the vegetables?’ Mags said, grabbing Eirenn and pulling him along too. Verak excused himself to go back to his family.

Kael sat on his pallet and watched the woman he loved wearing his betrothal necklace, and felt like the world’s biggest fool.

The people of Skjultfjell didn’t usually go quiet when Ishtaer walked by, but all throughout Midwinter she was uncomfortably aware of their scrutiny. By the time they sat down for the feast half the castle had been preparing, she felt as if every eye were turned on her.

‘Do I have something on my face?’ she whispered to Kael. ‘People are staring.’

‘Because you look beautiful. I mean, how can you tell people are staring?’

‘I can feel it. And they’ve been going quiet too. Did I do something wrong? Were my gifts not … appropriate?’

‘They were fine,’ he said. ‘We all liked our daggers.’

And then it hit her. What an idiot! He’d bought her this beautiful necklace and all she’d got him was a knife, of which he probably had hundreds, and which certainly wasn’t any different to the ones she’d bought Verak and Eirenn.

She wanted to put her head in her hands and groan, but she forced herself to keep eating and chatting, listening to the boys prattle excitedly about their presents and how fun it had been to sleep in the hall and how cool Brutus was …

… and thought, this is a man who has saved my life and my soul and seen me at my very, very worst, more than once, and still likes me, still wants to spend time with me, still tries to help me. He’s kind and funny and strong and loves his children and he respects me, and he bought me beautiful jewellery and all I got him was a knife and …

Kael touched her arm and she jumped, nearly stabbing him with her fork.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, fine, just thinking, you startled me, nothing bad, just thinking,’ she babbled.

‘Okay,’ he said, but he didn’t sound as amused as he usually did when she babbled. ‘Listen. I want to talk to you about something. But later. In private.’

‘Oh?’ Ishtaer said, her voice much higher than usual.

‘Yeah. Uh. After we’re done here. I have some aquavit. We’ll probably need some. After all this food.’

‘Yes, probably.’ She was talking as fast as him. ‘Shall I meet you—’

‘Come to my room.’

‘Your room?’ she squeaked.

‘Or your room. Or my office. Wherever you like. Doesn’t matter.’

‘Right, your room. Why not, I don’t mind.’

‘Sure.’

‘Right.’

Ishtaer wondered if she could dive into her soup, and never come back out again.

For the rest of the feast, which went on for hours and consisted of every kind of meat and fish and preserve she could think of, she was acutely aware of Kael sitting there beside her.

She was always aware of him. Always knew when he was near, what he was wearing, how he was feeling. When she walked beside him it felt entirely natural to tuck her hand into his elbow, even when she knew perfectly well where she was going and there were no obstacles. When she’d woken beside him that morning in her bed she hadn’t been frightened or uncomfortable. She’d felt safe. Warm.

She trusted him. She liked him. Ishtaer had no frame of reference, but she was beginning to wonder if she actually loved him.

His thigh brushed hers beneath the table. It felt … nice. What would it feel like to touch more of him? She’d had her hands all over him when treating him for various injuries, not least the ones inflicted in Palavio, but that was in a medical context. What if she touched him all over just to see what he felt like? To feel his naked body against hers? To kiss him, more than that fierce brush of lips so long ago … which she had, if she was honest with herself, liked?