Especially about thinking this owl is trying to talk to me.
So, she said nothing, let the tent flap close, and went to put her belongings back.
“We can figure it out in the morning,” Lilly said. “I’m tired and going to bed.”
“Me too,” Mia said. “Whoever it was, didn’t find anything, and they are long gone.”
They both changed into pajamas and then got into their sleeping bags.
Lilly left the lantern light low, so Finn could see when he got in later tonight.
Likely he was at the pub enjoying a beer after his show. They were not going to wait up.
Mia set the rose on the side of her cot, near her pillow, where she could see it and enjoy its scent and then settled in to read, with her book light and her paperback.
She was looking for her last page, where she’d left off.
That had been lost when the bookmark fell out.
Then she realized that a page had been torn from her book.
What? Why would anyone do that?
It horrified her that someone would tear pages out of books.
And it made no logical sense to do that.
What would anyone do with the missing page?
Luckily it was a page she’d already read. But it ruined the book for anyone else.
She’d planned to ask Lilly if she wanted to read it after she finished reading it.
Now that wouldn’t happen.
After about twenty minutes of reading, Mia placed the rose on the ground where she wouldn’t roll onto it in her sleep and turned off her book light. She couldn’t stay up all night and needed to rest.
Long after the torches outside had burned low, she lay awake in the tent, listening to the distant murmur of laughter and music drifting from the campfires.
She couldn’t shake the image of the two knights watching her, during Finn’s show. The golden amusement in Sir Cedric’seyes, the shadowed weight in Sir Alaric’s. Both had unsettled her, though in different ways.
Sir Cedric’s charm was easy, bright as the flame itself, and he had presented her with the red rose. She replayed that moment many times, enjoying the memory and the way his kiss felt on the back of her hand.
She wondered what his lips would feel like upon her lips and imagined kissing him.
Sir Alaric’s attention was heavier, dangerous, as though he saw something in her she didn’t yet understand. He frightened her a little, but at the same time, she was drawn to him.
The memory of their words tangled in her head: Sir Cedric mocking, Sir Alaric warning. Two men, both strong in their own way, both impossibly interested in her.
She’d dreamed of meeting one handsome knight who might be interested in her, and now, it seemed she had two.
Sleep came slowly. And with it, restless dreams.
The first dream was both familiar and unfamiliar.
She was back in her grandmother’s house, sitting by the fireplace.
Light through the window and the lace curtains caught dust motes as they floated down. A fire crackled low in the hearth. On the mantel sat a carved wooden owl, worn smooth from years of being touched.
