Ven held up his hand before the man could reply. "I'd like to meet your wife."
Renet exhaled in a puff, and his face broke into a wide grin. "Of course, great sir!"
Naelin pounded the herbs with the pestle. She tried not to imagine the herbs were Renet's face. She told herself she didn't actually wish him harm. He was more like a puppy, exuberant and irresponsible . . . and needing to be on a leash.
"Mama, are you and Father going to fight again tonight?" Llor asked.
She sighed. Their home was too tiny to hide things, and she'd been yelling too loudly. "No, sweetheart, he'll come home with fresh flowers as he always does, and everything will be all right."
"Until you need to yell at him again," Erian pointed out. She carried a pitcher of water to the table. To Llor, she said, "Sometimes Father needs yelling at."
Naelin's mouth quirked into a smile. It was true. But she wished she didn't feel like yelling at him so often. He meant well, usually, and he certainly hadn't meant for any harm to come to Erian and Llor. It could have, though, she thought. They could have been killed. Her smile faded, and shivers ran up and down her spine again. She redoubled her efforts in mashing the herbs. Extra protection charms. That would help. And she'd string up garlic and onion, make the place smell so noxious that no spirit would want to come near it.
She heard the ladder creak outside.
"Father's home!" Llor cried. He ran to the window and threw open the shutters.
Dropping the pestle, Naelin rushed to the window and pulled her son back. "Ask first." She tried not to let fear into her voice. Windows weren't safe right now, not until she was sure the spirits had lost interest in her. She closed the shutters and latched them.
"He's early," Erian observed. "Do you think something's wrong?"
With Renet, it could be anything: a spirit attack, a forgotten lunch, or he simply didn't feel like working today. That had happened before. Sometimes it was nice, like when he'd sweep the whole family away on an impromptu picnic, and sometimes it wasn't, like when he'd come home furious about some imaginary slight that was obviously her fault. Regardless, she wasn't in the mood for his whims today. "Renet, is that you?" she called.
"Yes!" he called back. He sounded cheerful.
She wasn't certain if that made her relieved or annoyed. Both, she decided.
"I've brought guests!"
This time, she was the one to open the shutters and lean out the window. Looking down, she saw only her husband on the ladder. And then she felt eyes on her. Skin prickling, she looked up sharply, expecting to see more spirits, but instead two people, a man and a woman, were perched on branches directly opposite their house.
These were not her husband's usual friends. Not only had she never seen them before, but they didn't look like anyone she'd ever seen. The man was tall, very tall, with a salt-and-pepper beard, hard blue eyes, and an old scar on his forehead. He had a bow and quiver on his back, as well as a travel sack, and wore green leathers that looked as if they'd seen a lot of tree bark. He was the kind of dangerous handsome that the women from town liked to whisper about. Staring at him, Naelin had to force herself to tear her eyes away in order to examine his companion, a lithe woman with bare, muscled arms, curls pinned back from her face, and knives strapped to her calves. She was watching Naelin as if Naelin were a squirrel, a tasty, plump squirrel that the woman was considering for dinner. Naelin wanted to close the shutters and tell Renet to take his "friends" back where they came from. But these didn't look like the kind of people you were rude to, at least not safely.
Champions, her mind whispered, but then she pushed that thought away. It couldn't be. Renet had promised. Besides, wouldn't champions look more regal? These two looked like wild hunters, the kind of people who roamed the forest without a permanent home.
Before she could decide what to do, Llor was tugging at the door, and Erian was undoing the locks. Llor tumbled backward as the door swung open. Reversing direction, he launched himself forward and hugged Renet's leg. "Father! Don't worry. Mother's not still mad. She said she wouldn't yell at you anymore."
Renet glanced at her, his expression like a toddler with chocolate on his face who expects to be smacked but doesn't regret the chocolate. Please, she thought. Please, tell me these aren't champions. Please say you didn't do it. He'd done something, though-that much was clear.
When had their marriage become like this? At the start, they'd been so happy. He'd made her laugh like no one else ever could. He'd taught her to dance, and she'd taught him to read, at least a little-he hadn't been a very good student, and she hadn't been a strict teacher. They used to spend moonlit nights on the roof, catching glimpses of the stars through the leaves. They used to skinny-dip in the forest pools. But that was years ago. Now she couldn't remember the last time they'd laughed together, or even seemed to be having the same conversation. Somewhere along the way, they stopped being able to talk without shouting, and their easy friendship had slipped away, argument by argument. "Who are your friends?" she asked as the man and woman came through the door.