Metal scraped at the front of the door, and I startled.
The lock clicked.
The front door scraped open with a sudden shove, torchlight pouring into the room in a harsh spill of gold and shadow. I sucked in a breath and lifted my arm too late to shield my eyes, blinking against the brightness as a tall figure filled the doorway. I noted thick red-brown hair dusted with snow and unruly from the wind.
I didn’t have a chance to find cover. The man was just there and staring at me, shock flashing across his face as his gaze locked with mine. His mouth opened, already forming the shape of a shout.
CHAPTER 9
Hannah
Ilifted my left hand so the palm faced the man in the doorway and kept my right hand down, the knife clenched in it tight. Every muscle within me braced for the moment he decided to shout. My heart slammed so hard against my ribs it hurt.
“I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, too fast despite trying to keep my voice steady. I adjusted my stance, calculating whether it would be safer to go out the back through the window or take advantage of his surprise and charge out the front.
He snorted. “And you expect me to believe that? That’s exactly what someone would say if they did want to hurt someone. Step forward.”
My stomach churned. The last thing I wanted to do was step closer to him without knowing if he’d attack, but at the same time, not moving closer meant he’d most likely alert the guards, and my chance of freedom would be eliminated. I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t. Somehow, I always managed to get into situations like this. This time, I couldn’t easily find a clever way out.
Taking a shaky breath, I took a step forward.
As soon as I did, he moved closer to me. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he scanned me. After a few seconds, he straightened his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll hear you out. Just give me a moment.” With a curt nod, he stepped fully inside and closed the door with his heel.
The latch slid into place with a soft, final click that sent a cold ripple down my spine.
He deadbolted it before he looked back at me and said, “Let’s get some light before we continue this conversation. You’re safe here as long as your story measures up. There’s no need for violence.”
His abrupt shift in manner set me on edge, but he wasn’t going for help or a weapon. Though, even without a weapon on him, he looked like he could land a solid punch, and from this distance, I wouldn’t have the advantage of surprise as I’d had against Scar Jaw and Lilac Eyes. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
He moved to the hearth, his boot steps loud on the wood floor. Then he knelt, his form becoming a dark bulk that blotted the mouth of the hearth into a larger darkness. I edged back toward the narrow hall as my hand clenched tighter on the knife.
“Hroooof—roo—roo—awrr.” The howling had taken on a more agitated sound.
Metal clanked near the fireplace, and something stirred in the hearth. He was stirring up the embers with a poker—that could be a weapon.
I compensated by stepping back once more and preparing to make a run for it.
The embers flared, bringing a burst of soft light that faded shortly after. He grunted, set the poker aside, and then picked up a split log from a box near the hearth that I’d missed. “Sorry about the dark.” His voice was as pleasant as if we were discussing going to see a movie after bumping into each other atthe gym. “I was out far longer than I intended today, and nearly everything burned down to ash and embers. But this ironwood holds heat well, and the coals stay hot much longer than pine or cedar. You cold?”
A small shiver wracked me, giving me away, though I didn’t want to admit to any weaknesses right now. As he set the wood on the fire grate, it thunked into place. He put on more wood and stirred the coals again, sending up myriad sparks. They circled and spun until they vanished up the chimney.
“No….” I offered a dramatic shrug, lifting one eyebrow. “It’s hot as summer at noon on the lake. In fact, I’m thinking of ditching my coat and just running barefoot through the streets.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s been ages since we’ve had spring or summer. These days, we have three temperatures: cold, very cold, and bone-achingly cold.”
The first log caught fire, and light flared through the room, casting everything in an orange glow and lighting his profile. He kept his back to me, which worried me. I wouldn’t put my back to a stranger like that. Especially not in the middle of the night when they had no business being in my home. Still, I took advantage of the light to examine my surroundings.
Two low-seated dark linen couches sat to the left of the fireplace, spaced around a squat wooden table bearing numerous ring stains, scorch marks, and scuffs. A set of cabinets lined the wall on the right, all closed with heavy wooden doors and iron latches. Two oil lamps sat in cubbies, and another two lamps sat on shelves on the wall. The only windows were on the same wall as the front door, one without glass and one with. That was odd. It had to be intentional, though I wasn’t sure what the reasoning was. Both had shutters with evenly spaced latches, unlike the one in the backroom I’d crawled through. A bench sat just beneath the window to the right of the door, and beneath that bench was a pair of worn leather boots. A hook on the wallto the left of the bench was bare and waiting for one coat. I guessed he was the only person who lived here and that he didn’t often receive guests.
The wall above the hearth was a mural of its own: hooks held drying bundles of herbs, coils of string, a rusted saw, a strip of beaten leather, a pair of scissors that looked ancient, a waxed cloth pouch, a long-handled ladle, and above all of it, a strange curved horn, longer than my forearm, gray and ridged, probably from some beast I’d never seen before.
He blew on the coals, then hummed when the other logs caught fire too. When he stood, I was able to really see him for the first time. He was not quite as tall as King Grouchy Pants, but he was still a few inches taller than me. Loose red-brown curls framed his face, and his dark-brown eyes scanned me with a startling level of calm and ease. When he removed his gloves and shrugged off his coat, I noted he had a runner’s build. A series of burn scars marred his left forearm and hand, and he tugged down the cuff of his dark-blue tunic to cover them.
“I’m Olen.” His gaze traveled from my ash-streaked golden hair to my grimy coat to my fingers, which were curled as if ready to fight. Something like understanding flickered there, then morphed into amusement as a grin split his face. “And I guess that explains why the hounds aren’t already here. Found an ash pile, did you? That was clever. Then again, you’d have to be if you got out of the Dusk King’s dungeon. What’s even more impressive to me is you didn’t put on too much. You masked your scent, but you don’t look like you rolled in it, and you aren’t leaving a trail of grime behind you. Nicely done.”
Howls neared the house. I tensed and glanced over my shoulder at the back room. The shutter was still closed but gaping a bit.
I lifted my chin. “You think the hounds are after me? Interesting.” Why didn’t he seem more worried? Did he think itwasn’t possible for someone like me to cause him harm, or was this a trap? Something inside me twinged, urging me to run. But running now would put me in the direct line of the hounds.
