Tainted Blood

Chapter 19

The night had turned frigid and cold as they moved camps, the small village abandoned in the years. The buildings crumbled; their roofs exposed to the elements. Small canvas tents were erected in the centre of the broken courtyard, the wind beating against the side as Spencer tossed and turned, sleep alluding her. Guilt and terror gnawed at gut, the words of her brother echoing through her, his urgency and underlying panic. The letter he sent her was safely packed into the breast pocket of the cloak she had poached from a cart before leaving. The fleece lined material filthy and smelling of years of no care. She wondered of the welfare of her mother and brother, that their confinement to the manor was in act for their welfare and not for her father's growing insanity. The fear in her festered at the thought.

Rain soon began, the cold deepening as the tent swayed against the onslaught. She didn't know why she had gotten out of her bed, or why she had ventured into the rain in search of a particular tent. His tent was strategically pitched in an alcove, protected against the storm that was gathering. A light came from the inside as she pushed the canvas aside. He sat against the makeshift cot on the floor, a knife raised in his hand.

"Spencer?"

"I'm sorry," she backtracked, sudden embarrassment and nervousness overtaking her. A sudden flush came to her cheeks, as she went to venture back into the rain and into her own tent.

"Are you alright?" he stopped her, sheathing the knife and tucking it back into his pillow. She didn't know the answer to the question, hadn't known the state of her feelings for days now. He sat up, moving aside for her to sit down, a small, sympathetic smile on his face as she neared him. The silence between them was palatable, she couldn't understand why she had come here and not to Jonathon's tent. It was originally because of him that she came here, risked everything for him.

"Is it your family?" he asked, his voice quiet but steady against the rain. She wondered if he could feel the uneasy, sickening feeling that was buried in her.

"The letter," she began, her swallow audible, "I'm worried he's going to hurt them."

"Jonathon?"

"Hennessey. I think he's losing his mind, he confined them to the manor, he's starting a war-"

"and he's trying to kill you?"

"I know everything about my family is wrong, everything we've done, tried to accomplish all in the sake of peace, but..."

"They are still your family," he finished, his hand sliding over to hers, "I can help you protect them, your mother and brother."

Her head drooped, she knew, somewhere deep down that he would, he'd help her, save her family even through they'd only known each other a few days. They never spoke of the tether that often pulled them together, the unspoken trust between them that developed so easily. Cold, unsteady fingers brushed the hair that had fallen from her face, his hand shook as it brushed behind her ear.

"I'll protect you too."

"And I you."