“You’re burning up, Finn,” Rohan said. “Come inside by the fire. I’ll wrap you in blankets.”
“Yes, yes, I’d like that.”
He would more than like that. Such an indulgence to have a blanket at all, let alone to be cocooned in one before a fire was practically unknown to him. He wasn’t ill often, but when he was, it was severe.
“A little wine will help you as well, I think,” Rohan said as he slipped that hand from Finn’s shoulder to his lower back and gently led him towards the cabin.
“W-wine?” Finn allowed himself to lean into Rohan’s touch. It centered him. Calmed him. At least, his heart had slowed down.
It must be this illness that’s making my heart race so.
“Yes, rich, red wine from my own cellars! Nothing better to chase away illness than the fermented grape,” Rohan told him.
“I’ve only ever had a sip or two. The wine’s kept for…” Finn stopped himself. Rohan knew he was a servant, but it was best not to emphasize that. “For special occasions.”
“Well, I believe every time we are together is a special occasion.” Rohan smiled down at him.
Finn managed a smile back. “Yes, I agree.”
Rohan got him inside the cabin. The interior was darker than the noontime outdoors, but it was cozy. The fire was roaring. There was not one but three candelabras placed strategically in the room so that everything was illuminated by a soft, golden glow. Rohan had also made a nest right before the fire for them. The blanket he’d seen from outside was nothing compared to what was there.
There were piles of furs that looked even finer than the stuff that lined the cloak Rohan had gifted him. There were over a dozen pillows in jewel tone colors. In addition to the nest, there was that overflowing picnic basket. Finn also caught sight of several bottles of wine and two crystal goblets. There were soft, ripe cheeses on a cutting board. Not to mention that there was a grate over the fire and two steaks seasoned with salt and pepper waiting to be cooked.
“Rohan!” Finn gasped. “You didn’t have to do all of this!”
As if to bely his words, his stomach gave another audible gurgle. That caused Rohan to chuckle.
“I rather think I did. You need sustenance,” Rohan stated, “and if you’re fighting off an illness you definitely require good food. Now sit.”
Finn nearly collapsed into the center of the blanket nest when Rohan pushed down on his shoulders. His hands splayed out on the fur blankets. They were so soft. He nearly jumped when Rohan came up behind him and slipped one of the fur blankets over his shoulders.
“Oh, thank you!” Finn cried.
He drew the blanket around himself and turned towards the fire. He stretched his hands out, expecting to feel the heat of the flames, but, at first, there was no heat at all. Finn blinked and frowned.
“Something wrong?” Rohan asked.
“The fire… it’s not hot,” Finn stated uncertainly.
“What? Finn, you truly are ill if you can’t feel the fire’s heat,” Rohan said.
And then, Finn’s hands were blasted by warmth. “Ah, yes, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s all right. We’ll get you back on the mend in no time,” Rohan assured him.
Finn huddled further into the blankets, but he was still chilled.
Rohan studied him carefully, and he smiled. “You look like a little bird in a nest.”
“I feel like that. I’m sorry I’m… I’m not myself,” Finn told him.
Finn swallowed down the alarm building in him. He must be very ill indeed for him to be thinking such irrational things such as a fire not giving out heat. The perception that the woods were locking him in this glade was likely a hallucination too. Thank goodness Rohan was here to take care of him!
Even as he looked at the spread of food and wine and blankets and pillows, he had a flash of memory: Rohan with two other men on horses facing him, Miles and Christopher. Rohan and his companion’s saddlebags were stuffed to the gills with these exact things: blankets, pillows, candelabras, and several picnic baskets tied to their saddles.
A romantic picnic.
How had Rohan gotten all of this here himself if that was not true? It was impossible for a horse to draw a cart through the woods even if one wasn’t hallucinating and the paths had cooperated. He realized that he hadn’t seen Tempest outside. So how had Rohan gotten himself here at all, let alone everything else?
Maybe his friends took Tempest with them and are hiding out of sight? Finn thought. But why? None of this makes any sense!
“Finn?” Rohan was offering him a goblet of wine.
“Oh, sorry!”
Finn took the goblet from him. He stared down into his contents. It was likely a deep red color but, in the firelight, it looked almost black.
Like one of Christopher’s deadly potions.
With that comparison, he decided he would not drink it.
“What are you thinking about?” Rohan asked almost playfully, but there was the slightest bit of sharpness in his eyes.
“I was just wondering how you got all of this here.” Finn brought the wine to his lips, but didn’t drink even though it smelled of ripe berries. Yet there was a faint scent of decay about the wine too, which had his nose wrinkling. He quickly brought it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if he had drunk from it. “I didn’t see Tempest outside. I’m sure that Sweetfire is missing him… even though she’s being a pig with the grass.”
Rohan took a deep sip of his wine, evidently not finding anything objectionable about it. His eyes twinkled above the rim of the goblet, but Finn could have sworn that he was drinking to give himself time to think of an answer. Finally, he lowered the goblet, and he, too, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand just as Finn had. Had he really drunk the wine either?
This is crazy! What am I thinking? That Rohan put something into the wine? That he’s faking drinking so I’ll feel safe about drinking some myself?
“Don’t worry about Tempest. He’s fine,” Rohan stated with a chuckle.
And yet those words did make him worried about the stallion. It seemed downright odd to him that Rohan would act so careless about his beloved warhorse. Or he had seemed beloved to Rohan yesterday.
What do I really know about Rohan? Finn reminded himself. Nothing, really. Maybe he is not as attached to Tempest as he seemed… but no, no, I’m sure he was. The affection wasn’t feigned.
“Aren’t you going to drink your wine, Finn?” Rohan asked. When Finn lifted his head to look at him, Rohan’s stare was quite intent. “If you don’t like this one, I have others.”
He gestured towards the other unopened bottles. The bottles looked black and around their necks had strange knotted cords with red beads.
“N-no, this is fine!” Finn lied as he carefully brought the goblet to his mouth and barely touched his top lip to the liquid. There was a burning sensation that had him jerking the goblet away and spilling the wine on the ground. “Oh! I’m sorry!”
“No need to apologize. Let me take that and clean you up.”
Rohan took the goblet from him and set it to the side before dabbing up the wine that had spilled. This action brought him very close to Finn’s face. Rohan’s eyes hooded. But the look was not like the ones of desire he’d given Finn the other day. This one was predatory, almost frightening, and Finn turned his head, pretending he was seeing something outside of the cabin to break the moment. When he looked back, Rohan had moved away.