Hyacinth (Tamlin's Healing Arc)

Chapter Eight

"How is he doing?" Bron inquired, his body slumped over a bowl of vegetable stew. The only time they managed to avoid arguments was when their conversations revolved around or involved their father.

The incessant fighting was beginning to take its toll on her.

Cin filled a pot with water and placed it over the fire, releasing a sigh. "Papa's body is covered in twice the amount of bruises and aches. The tea provides some relief, but it won't be much longer now."

"He's had a long life," Bron murmured, pressing his lips together tightly, though she could tell by his trembling chin that he was holding back tears. He had cried before, and it seemed likely he would do so again before long. "He's outlived most lesser fae."

Cin crushed the herbs she had gathered from her jars with her stone pestle, clumping them into a compact bundle within a mesh pouch. She needed to make the tea to alleviate her father's denied pain. "My best guess, Papa will Pass within a fortnight."

"I've joined the Clematis Hunting Party." Bron let out a loud exhale, his gaze lingering on her satchel before meeting her eyes. He didn't want to discuss their father's impending Passing, neither did she. But, unlike Bron, Cin couldn't simply ignore something as significant as this. Yet, if her brother wanted to temporarily shelve the topic for one night, she would oblige.

"Yeah? I didn't realize we were in need," she pondered, trying to recall why he would join if they had an abundance of food.

"The village is in need. But considering our own circumstances, our livestock supply has dwindled," he explained, his gaze dropping. Deep down, Cin knew that he had done it because of her. Bron hadn't shown much concern for the village in the past, but her unimaginable undertaking was putting him to shame, even if no one knew the extent of her actions.

"When are you leaving?" She settled into the chair opposite him.

"Tomorrow," he responded quickly, his words muffled by a mouthful of stew and bread. "The plan is for us to hunt together and divide the catch evenly among every man in the party."

"How many of you are going?" Her question almost drowned out the bubbling sound of water on the stove. "And if all of you are leaving, who will be here to protect the Clematis?"

Cin rose from her seat, but before she could reach for the kettle, Bron had already lowered his spoon and moved to take the pot off the fire for her. "Quiet Jon and Rafe are staying behind to coordinate the men who won't be joining the hunt. We wouldn't leave our families defenseless, Cin."

He rolled his eyes as he placed the kettle beside the crackling fire. Bron grabbed their father's mug from the shelf, filling it with steaming water before setting it in front of Cin, who remained seated at the table.

"Thanks," she muttered, submerging the herb-filled mesh pouch in the ceramic mug. "And when will you all be back? I have things I need to attend to as well, you know."

"I'm sure your customers wouldn't mind coming to the house for their herbs," her brother shrugged, referring to the villagers who usually purchased Cin's herbal teas. She had been referring to the High Lord. If he were gone for too long, she wouldn't be able to leave the house. She would have to stay home with their father. While it had been a blessing before, it now felt like a responsibility that stole precious time she could spend with the High Lord. Noticing her silence, Bron lifted his gaze, and the guilty expression on her face revealed that he knew who she was referring to. "You need to let him go. You're wasting your time."

Cin sighed, bracing herself for yet another argument. "He's making progress, Bron. He's eating, and now he's bathing too. It's been almost two weeks since he started bathing." She shifted in her seat. Since that first time in the tub, she hadn't needed to assist him again. But he spoke to her more regularly now. They had small conversations, and she treasured each one, like the flickering of life in a candle, one candle at a time.