The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four by Elizabeth Hunter Read Free Book Online

ritual bath, then spent an hour in meditation before he inked a new spell.
    He needed clarity.
    The resulting punch of magic left him restless. He took the bowl of porridge Ingrid handed him and looked for Sari.
    Ingrid asked, “You finished with your manuscript, Damien?”
    “No.”
    “Ah.” She smiled. “I didn’t think it was the work keeping you away. Mistress Sari has been up and out already. She took her breakfast to the fields with Kirsten.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?”
    “Maybe it’s her turn to avoid you , eh?”
    He leaned over and kissed Ingrid’s plump cheek. “Do you really think that will work?”
    The cheerful cook gaped at him. “Who are you? And what have you done with my sour friend?”
    He allowed her a smile before he took his breakfast to one of the long tables. Instead of focusing on finishing his food as quickly as possible, he let his eyes roam around the room.
    While many mated couples took their meals in privacy, the majority of the village ate their morning and midday meals together in the longhouse in the center of the village next to the library. It was built with community in mind. Ingrid, the village cook, and her mate lived in the back, but the common room was the site of everything important in village life. Meals. Sings. Meetings about problems or welcome ceremonies.
    It was a long room with just a few high windows. A fire burned from a stone hearth in the center of the hall, the community kitchen was at the front, and smaller benches and rugs were strewn at the end for the children. Damien saw one mother nursing her babe near the fire while her mate spoke to her quietly with a hand on his son’s small foot.
    It was a good village. A safe place. There were probably a million Irin villages scattered like this over the world, but this one had been his home for two hundred years. He still felt like an outsider, and he had to admit it was entirely his own doing.
    Henry sat down across from him. “What are you doing out of the library?”
    “Eating breakfast.” Damien stared out the door near the hearth. If he followed the path out the door, taking it out of the village and toward the grain fields, he would find her. He could drink in her presence and soak in her light.
    “I scraped the bottom of the pot…”
    Damien burst into laughter. By the time he composed himself, every eye in the hall was on him.
    Henry’s eyes were the size of saucers. “Are you feeling well?”
    “She’ll have no patience for gentle wooing.”
    “Who won’t? What are you talking about?”
    “Sari.”
    “The earth singer?” Henry frowned. “You mean… I thought you didn’t like her.”
    “She may be my reshon.”
    “That… would be surprising. Are you sure you’re well? I know you were in the ritual room this morning. Do you think—”
    “I think…” Damien narrowed his eyes. “I need a plan.”
    “For what?”
    “For wooing Sari, of course.”
    “I don’t even know what’s going on.” Henry put his head in his hands. “You are indifferent to women. You always have been.”
    “Not true.”
    “Fine. You’ve been indifferent to them the entire time I have known you.”
    “That is true.” He poured himself a mug of milk from the pitcher on the table. “But I am not indifferent to her.”
    “Why?”
    “Why does it matter?” Damien asked.
    “My friend, consider this.” Henry put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “You say you need a plan to woo her. I propose that a good beginning to this plan would be to identify the reasons you are pursuing this woman. This woman, and no other, in over two hundred years.”
    “She heard my soul whisper reshon . She told me this.”
    “And you believe she is being truthful?”
    “You’ve spoken with her. Does she seem like a woman who would lie?”
    Henry’s eyes were pained. “More than one in the village can attest she is not.”
    Damien nodded and took a drink of his milk. “So she speaks truth. My soul