Valenden took the time to wonder what life was like for a girl even younger than him who ran a business entirely on her own, handling the alcohol orders, baking the pastries, managing finances, and even dealing with drunken, disreputable customers—like him.
“Are you going to say running a tavern is no job for a girl?” she challenged.
He barked a laugh. “On the contrary, I was thinking how I couldn’t do it myself.”
Winter disappeared briefly and returned with a kettle of steaming water. She poured it into a bowl and dipped a fresh rag into it. Carefully, she dabbed the mud and crusted blood off his face. “I heard you’re to be in charge of the docks when you’re older.”
Her eyelids were heavy, he noticed. What time was it again? She must be exhausted on a regular night after closing the tavern, let alone having to take care ofhim.
“Pfft,” he said. “I’d be lucky to be deemed responsible enough to oversee a chicken coop.”
A smile tugged briefly at her mouth, and Valenden found his heart kick up a little. Though she wore a simple work dress and apron, with her curly hair pulled back like a soldier, her natural beauty was undeniable. Her features weren’t fine like Maira’s or Shusana’s, and he found he liked her heavier nose and big eyes.
“You know,” she said quietly as she continued to wash his face, “I remember the night of the fire at Rollins’ store.”
Valenden grew quiet. She was referring to an incident about two years ago. He’d been drunk, as usual, in a different tavern on the other side of Barendur Village. Some lantern oil at Rollins’ supply store had caught fire and ignited the entire structure. As it was late at night, most of the town was fast asleep, including old Rollins himself. Valenden had been one of the first ones the scene. He’d dashed into the building and gotten Rollins out, then had grabbed a chamber pot, ran back outside, and used muddy water from the street’s gutter put out the fire.
“You were there?” Valenden asked.
She nodded. “I came when I heard the commotion. I saw you put the fire out.”
He groaned. “With a chamber pot. Not my finest moment.”
“On the contrary, I’d wager itwasone of your finer moments. And I suspect there are more fine moments you don’t like to talk about. There were witnesses at the Rollins’ fire—you couldn’t escape being known as a hero then.”
He lifted a defensive shoulder. This bartender was getting under his skin, and he wasn’t sure he liked it—or maybe he liked it too much.
She wrung out the rag in the bowl. “Why do you want the world to assume you’re useless, Val? Is it because you don’t want the responsibilities of a prince?”
Valenden shifted uncomfortably on the bedroll. “I enjoy life’s pleasures. It isn’t my fate to rule.”
“A prince can’t be carefree?”
“Have youmetmy brothers?”
This got another rare smile from Winter, and Valenden’s heart gave a little soar of triumph. He raked his hair back off his face as he studied her closer.
It was the middle of the night, and she must be exhausted after a long day working, yet here she was tending to him. Maybe it was the ale or his bruised body, but he felt a different kind of falling sensation than when he was merely attracted to someone new. There was something about Winter that almost made him want to be a better person.
She was close enough to kiss. All he’d need to do was lean forward and capture her lips. His heart started thumping at the prospect. And yet he felt the overwhelming certainty that even though he was a prince and she a tavern maid, he didn’t even begin to deserve her…
While he was still thinking about a kiss, she picked up a bottle of mead and raised an eyebrow with a curious smile.
“You want to talk about fate, prince? Sit up. I’ll read your fortune.”
Chapter6
Rangar
Aya pressed onto her tiptoes and kissed Rangar while he was still deciding what to do about the beautiful girl’s confession. Her lips were warm and soft, and his arms instinctively went around her waist. The snow was falling heavier, catching in their eyelashes and skimming over his bare shoulders and her wool cloak.
She tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. Rangar felt his senses go on alert—his skin was extra sensitive, his nose detected her floral smell mixed with bread dough from the kitchen. He found his hand weaving through her silky hair, fighting the urge to clutch her possessively into a deeper kiss.
She broke the kiss, looking up at him through her long lashes. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Rangar.”
He couldn’t help himself. Her body was such a pleasing, warm presence beneath his hands. Her lips were full and ready. When she brushed a finger over the hexmark on his pectoral muscle, he growled low and took her in another kiss.
She parted her lips in a sigh. Her muscles trembled slightly beneath his hands, from the cold or the kiss; he wasn’t sure. She pressed those lips against his jaw, kissing her way down his neck and shoulder.
