The Lamb and the Gray Battle

February 14, 1446

"Would you like to go to the bathhouse?" Ren asked, his lips to her neck. "I could have the servants boil some water for us. It would be just like when we were children."

Except it wouldn't be like when they were children, because Mam was gone.

Aoibh nuzzled into his shoulder. She bit her lip as if she were frightened, as if Ren had ever yelled at her, but the smile that crept to her lips told the truth.

"I'm hungry," she whined.

Never in their youth had Ren denied her anything, but his lips were granite. He was no longer a man people refused and Aoibh shrank in his arms.

Ren's facade shifted instantly to the smile she remembered, though his eyes had aged. He shook away whatever had rankled him.

"As you wish, Banrion Aoibh."

Ren carried her to the dining hall and servants skittered in the halls, prepared the table, brought out food, filled cups with tea. Ren didn't follow Western traditions, like sitting opposite at the table. He knelt right next to her and though he kept his hands hidden under the table, he fulfilled her every wish. With Ren there, Aoibh could barely hold a spoon. Her decrepit fingers cracked and rattled and she ladled fish broth to her lips. Little pings echoed as each drop hit her stomach.

Her bowl was refilled without question, and by the end of the evening, her fingers had recovered enough for her to feed herself. The rhythm she had been running from for over a month was soothing now. She flexed her fingers, the ropy veins relaxing under the skin. Pastries were brought, boiled whale, candied dates. Every few minutes, Ren would kiss Aoibh's cheek, jaw, neck. His balled up hand was on her bony leg.

BoBo and Sutekh came out of their rooms to greet Banrion Aoibh, Laoshi and Djehuty trailing behind. The elders coaxed Aoibh to talk, to recount her numerous years running with Gran. She mewed a tune, a song that sounded like leaves rustling in the wind. The words were in Irish. Knox was hypnotized.

"This monster of Hell was ambitious for sure

"And his lust for power would always endure.

"With glee he watched as his mother lost her head

"And instead of mourning, killed his father instead."

BoBo made a comment in Chinese. Aoibh pursed her lips. She didn't speak Chinese, but she could tell it was glib. Ren snarled that everyone was to speak English, so his queen would understand.

"You want me to repeat it, My King?" BoBo teased.

Aoibh winced at the threat in Ren's eye. Her skin cracked with the effort to blush and she took the cup of tea to her dried lips. It tore up her throat swallowing, but she finished off the pot.

Ren's hair was long and tame on his shoulder for the meal and Aoibh pet it with the hands that were slowly healing.

"Dear Ren, what's wrong?"

"Don't sing that song, please," he said and got up.

BoBo teased him in Chinese and Ren bit back, "I ordered you to speak in English."

BoBo smiled in that way that only BoBo could, satisfaction oozing from his lips.

Ren made a motion. Aoibh spotted the clawed hands. They were his dragon hands, but what was shocking was that he held them that way. When they first reunited, his hands were covered in gloves. He must have been conducting an exercise, seeing how long he could hold his hands that way.

BoBo was smug, but obedient, followed Ren to a corner. The words were whispered, but pretty soon, Ren yelled, "Well, when?"

"We are actively searching for a host to perform the ceremony, My King."

"Search harder," he yelled. "No one wants me to find a host personally."

Aoibh never considered that she shouldn't follow Ren. Her legs screamed out as she rose, but like when she tumbled behind Gran, she forced herself after Ren. His heartbeat yearned and Aoibh was a prisoner to the rhythm. Blood flooded her brain as vessels popped. Ren wanted to get away from other people, but never her.

She called out, "What's wrong?"

Inertia kept his robes swinging as he came to a halt. The claws were balled up. He closed his eyes, but didn't answer. When they were children, when he would hold his breath like that, he would take Aoibh by the hand and they would run out into the forest, then he would tell her what Madame Long, Sutekh, and sometimes even BoBo, had done to him. And he would hold her and cry into her shoulder. And then he would promise her he wouldn't let anyone hurt her or take her away from him.

But this time, he just stood there, robes still moving. The rage that burned in him was strangled and he turned cold. The black, leathery hand flexed and the claws dug into his flesh. The lower lip thickened and his eyes were clenched shut.

"Let's go outside," she said. "I'll hold you like I used to and you can tell me everything."

"It's not safe," he said. "My enemies are everywhere."

Aoibh nuzzled into his back, rubbed her forehead on his shoulder.

"Zhangfu, let's bathe together."

"You're still hungry," he said, but his eyelids had relaxed.

"You can fill me," she teased and her lips stung with each crack that opened when she smiled.

Ren turned to her and swung her into the air.

"As you wish, Mo Bhanrion."

He opened his mouth, but his lip quivered. He shifted his face away, moved his eyes as if he were searching for an answer in the stone wall.

"You're here," he said. "This insanity can stop."