Rising Ch. 08

"I understand what it means now, Ahma. Forgive my ignorance, I did not know. Don't worry about it, okay? Let's go have a nice dinner and put it behind us."

Ahma smiled shyly at him, her heart lifted and full. "That would be nice."

***

Dinner went more-less as it did the night before. The bar wench spent most of her time shoving her bosom in Methaniel's face. Ahma grew quickly tired of her behavior. The woman continually brought him flagons, ignoring her empty one.

Methaniel poured half his mug into hers, smirking with wry humor. "How's your dinner?"

"I didn't order this," Ahma answered sourly. Annoyment plagued her fair brow.

He glanced at her plate, shaking his head at the grizzly piece of meat with mushy carrots on the side.

"What did you want?" he asked.

Ahma sighed and lifted her fork. "It doesn't matter, I'll eat this."

The serving wench returned, bending over the table to face the man. "How's everythin', darlin'?"

"I'm fine, but could my companion have something else?"

The woman sneered at Ahma. "That's the slave food. Don't worry, it's cheap."

Methaniel's jaw set solidly and he drove a dark look into her. "She isnota slave. Bring her something else."

The wench snatched the plate from the table, spilling mushy carrots everywhere as she stomped off to the kitchen.

Ahma looked over at Methaniel, sighing softly. Her lip quirked into a grim smile. "Thank you, Master Merie. I've never had the urge to harm a woman before, but that's quickly changing."

Methaniel laughed and smiled warmly at her, the hard, dangerous look gone from his face. The wench returned a few moments later and plopped Ahma's food down in front of her.

She leaned over Methaniel again, gazing at him through thickly applied, gaudy makeup. "I'm here if ya want arealwoman tonight, instead of that feathered freak."

Methaniel matched her gaze, then roughly shoved his full mug into her hand, sloshing foaming ale onto her.

"Do your job. Get me a refill, and stop being so careless. That was good mead you wasted."

She scoffed at him disbelievingly and stomped off again. Ahma leaned forward, and stated, "I sometimes wish I was strong enough to carry an adult with me when I flew. I could find a nice cliff to fly that woman off of."

Methaniel grinned widely and gave her a sly wink. "I don't know, I think you'd have a better chance of lifting me than that heffer."

Ahma giggled before straightening her face. "Master Merrie, why does she keep throwing herself at you? Isn't that the behavior of, well, a whore?"

Methaniel chuckled softly and squeezed her small hand. "Dear Ahma. That's because, more less, she is a whore."

"Really?" Ahma gaped.

Methaniel shrugged. "Perhaps not by profession, but by action. She likely has an eye out for any travelers with a decent sized purse in hopes that she may get money or gifts from them. I mean, I certainly doubt she's interested in my dashing good looks," he joked.

"For what it's worth, you're far more attractive than her," Ahma grinned.

"That's not saying much," Methaniel rolled his eyes.

"Far, far more."

***

After the meal they headed back to their room. Ahma changed into her nightgown then Methaniel entered. As he began to change, he spoke, "We're leaving in the morning. I may have to walk a few miles before Lanion gets over being penned like this."

Ahma smiled softly and nodded. "I'm glad. I don't like this place very much."

"There is something we need to discuss," Methaniel told her as he handed her his shirt. She neatly folded it.

"Yes, Master?"

"You'll have to stop calling me that," he instructed her. Her eyes went wide. He added, "At the very least, in public. I fear the treatment for servants will grow worse the further we venture. I do not want you maltreated. I will tell people I'm escorting you to visit your grandfather...from now on, as far as others are concerned, at least, I will be your bodyguard. Understood?"

"Yes, Master," she said, making a face. "But then won't they treatyouas a servant?"

"I'll be a hired guard," he explained, "Sort of a mercenary. As long as I cary money and a blade, I'll be considered more-less a free man."

Methaniel looked away. He took a pause, then said, "As we travel, I'll be trying to find a suitable place for you to work."

He didn't need to look up to know her face had fallen blank. Already he knew she feared a life in this slave community, without him.

"Yes, Master," she said, choking on her words.

Methaniel stepped across the room to envelop her in a tight hug, more conscious than ever to avoid touching her wings with his hands "Don't be sad, Ahma. I won't leave you with anyone cruel, I swear it. Perhaps you could work in a shop, or a place of learning. You were always good at such things. I'll find something decent for you, you have my word."

Despite the cmfort of his arms and kind words, she felt no release from the crush of despair this time. It didn't matter where he left her; she would be apart from him. And she would probably never see him again.

She sighed, a tear trickling down her cheek. He held her and stroked her soft, clean hair. "I know you're afraid," he stated, "But I will find someone good for you to stay with."

Ahma nodded slightly against his chest.

"Let's head to bed now. We have a long day of Lanion being upset with us to deal with tomorrow."

Ahma curled in the plush bed next to him, his arm around her waist. He pulled the quilts over her, hiding all but the tip of her head. She nestled into his warm body as usual, but she felt cold.

Everything was cold.

End Ch.8