Hyacinth (Tamlin's Healing Arc)

Chapter Six

When Cin arrived home that night, with the remaining beef stew on her cart to serve as dinner for her family, Bron sat irritably on the sofa in front of the fire.

He stared into the small flames as if expecting them to effortlessly solve all his problems.

"You waited for me?" Cin almost cooed, hanging her satchel over the hook behind the door. "How sweet of you."

"It's not like I can leave until you get home, Cin," he replied, offering her a hard smile before springing to his feet. Bron nodded in the direction of their father's bedroom. "It's unlike you to keep Papa waiting."

"That wasn't my intention, and you know it," Cin waved him off as she ascended the steps to the kitchen, placing the pot of stew on the counter. "Do you want some stew before you leave for the evening?"

She threw the question over her shoulder while retrieving two bowls from above the sink. Bron muttered a "please," and Cin grabbed a third bowl.

"Were you carrying your dagger today?" he asked as she slid the bowl of stew and a piece of bread in front of him. "Two women were attacked outside the Fountain Square tavern this afternoon. I thought you might have been one of them since that's where you went after storming out. But Mendes said you had already left the village by then."

"Everyone knows who I am; they wouldn't dare risk you or your merry men coming after them," Cin shrugged, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders as her throat tightened. What else could be done to her that hadn't already happened? She had been attacked out there. She had been violated in her own home. As far as Cin was concerned, the outside world was not as dangerous as everyone made it out to be.

Bron studied her face, searching for something he couldn't—or wouldn't—find. Finally, he sighed, his expression still pensive, and asked, "Would you tell me if someone bothered you, though? I know you like to handle things on your own, especially after... everything that happened."

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Bron," Cin laughed, unnecessarily loud, as she twirled around the creaky table to retrieve their father's bowl of stew and bread. Noticing the stern expression on Bron's face, she rolled her eyes. "I'd tell you, I promise. I'll be right back. Just gotta take this to Papa, okay?"

It was a lie, and they both knew it. Cin escaped the room, the conversation, and her brother when he tried to bring up those two weeks. If she wanted to talk about it, she would, but she didn't. She was fine.

Their father's room was the first one in the hall just off the kitchen, the hallway with the low ceiling and the two little ferns nailed to the wall on either side of their father's door.

Cin pushed her way into the room, noting the wet cough that accompanied her entrance, and closed the door behind her with her foot.

"Beef stew and some focaccia bread, Papa," she announced, placing the bowl and bread on the bed tray atop the chest of drawers by the door. Then she carried the tray to the old man propped up in his bed.

"Bron tells me you've been gallivanting outside the gates. Is that right?" Her father asked, eyeing her suspiciously as she pulled the cushioned chair closer.

Cin took a seat in the chair and replied, "I'm not gallivanting, Papa. I'm... doing something that could really help Spring."

"How does putting yourself in danger help anyone?" he questioned, starting to eat the food she had brought. Cin didn't argue or try to defend herself. It would only further rile him up. Instead, she sat there while he ranted about how she took her safety for granted, how she had been through something terrible and barely spoke about it.