Page 79 of Bound

She looked at her basket rather than at him.

“The market did not go well,” she hedged, pulling her arm free. “I’ll start a meal.”

It was too late for breakfast, too early for lunch, but she did not care.

She opened the gate to the kitchen garden and waited for him to follow her out so she could close it up properly. His steps were slow and even that irritated her, and she did not like that he took the basket from her as he passed. “If you have need of coin, of food... you would ask me, wouldn’t you?”

Her mouth opened, and the retort on the tip of her tongue was not a kind one.

Had she ever asked anything of him?

Had Mama?

She bit her lip, hard.

She didn’t know that part. Not when they would take walks together through the pastures. Maybe she had asked him for help. For coins to spend when their market days went poorly. Maybe some baskets of goods had come from Da rather than trade, like a young Wren had assumed.

Wren thought of the firewood. Because no, she hadn’t asked him to help her with it. She’d simply tried to carry on as she’d always done.

A weariness spread through her, sapping her of her anger. And maybe that was better, lest she say something she regretted—tucked away in her bed. To play the scene over and over in her mind and rob of her sleep until he came back again and she might apologise. “I don’t know, Da.” Another shrug, and she closed the gate and moved toward the house. “I’m fairly sure I’d talk myself out of it.”

“Why?”

He asked it with such frustration, such disbelief, that she turned. He was gripping the handle of her basket too firmly, and she went back to take it from him. It wasn’t one of her mother’s, so it held no sentiment, but she’d worked hard on it all the same.

“Because I doubt a mate that never wished to meet me would not think kindly to you spending her family’s coin on the offspring she regretted.” Her lips thinned as he opened his mouth to argue. “I know you do not. Regret me, that is. And I believe you. But please do not pretend...” She took a deep breath. This subject was forbidden. They did not talk of his mate, of his other children.

But she thought of how lost she’d felt in the city. When she’d been so distressed and alone.

And despite her stubbornness, the bitterness she hoped so dearly might fade, she’d wanted him.

And hadn’t the least idea where to find him.

“Wren...” He looked so pained, so stricken, and she fought down the guilt that always welled so freely when she hurt him.

“I love you, Da. I do. But... something happened at the market. Something that no, I do not intend on sharing with you. And it made me remember, made me realise...” She wiped at her eyes, although she was still out of tears. “You have another life. Another family. One that has nothing to do with me. And you can talk of help, but unless you take the time to come here, I cannot even ask if I wanted it. Needed it.” Wren made herself look at him. “Am I wrong?”

He looked away first. Swallowed thickly before he took a step away from her.

A new fear. That he would leave. That she’d cut at him too many times, regardless of whether it was with the truth.

And she wouldn’t find him.

She wanted to be the type that would not care. That could stand there, back straight and head high and if he wanted to go, to run away from her and leave, then so be it.

But she wasn’t.

And a sound caught in her throat. Perhaps a plea, perhaps a whimper. She did not know. It was choked and ragged and she reached for him with her free hand because...

Because she did love him.

And he was all she had.

Which was a sorry truth indeed, because he wasn’t really hers at all.

He wrapped his arms around her. Put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her to him. And maybe she had some tears after all because her face was wet and her chest heaved with sobs, and they were only partly born of her father. Of old histories. Of loss and a twisted, gnawing grief that never seemed to go away.

Some of it was new.