Disaris had slinked off her bedroom to pout, thoughts still whirling with ideas for how to see Bron. His last visit was too short, the kiss they shared too wonderful to forget.
Of all the people in the world she least expected to help her, Ceybold jin Pasith had found a way. For a price. Bron had returned to Panrin in the hard depths of winter, when the days were short and cold seeped into every crevice, no matter how hot the hearth fire or how many layers of clothes one wore.
She had turned sixteen a week prior to his arrival and celebrated with her family the turn of her birth year by eating milk pudding topped with a drizzle of honey. Tired and cold from working in the tannery, she had almost fallen asleep in her dessert and went to bed, wishing that Bron had been there to celebrate with her.
He’d turned eighteen three months before and sent a short note home to his mother that he was fine and not to worry for him. Hazarin had shared the message with Disaris, her mouth downturned. There was something strange about the note, a feeling riding below the neatly written words that did the exact opposite of what he wanted: made them worry.
So when he appeared unexpectedly in front of her as she walked home, she thought the cold was making her see visions. The lingering stench of the tannery prevented her from throwing herself in his arms, but she danced around him and chattered nonstop as he accompanied her home.
She bombarded him with question about his days at the garrison, his training there, what spells he’d learned, what food he’d eaten, had he seen his mother yet. When she paused to take a breath, he held up a hand to forestall the next battery of questions.
“I’ll answer one of your questions now and the others later. No, I haven’t seen my amman yet. I will after I walk you home.”His nose wrinkled. “You can bathe and change while I visit with her, and then I’ll return to your house.”
On the surface, he was still the perceptive, enigmatic Bron she’d always known. Slow to warm to others but devoted to them when he did. His demeanor, however, had changed. Her mother had warned that might happen once he adjusted to military life, but Disaris’s gut told her the subtle shift in Bron’s personality didn’t come from that particular well. While she kept her distance from him, not wanting to knock him flat with the aromas wafting off her, she still stretched out a hand to him. “Are you all right, Bron?”
For the tiniest splinter of a moment, his smile faltered, giving way to an expression so bleak, it brought tears to her eyes. It was gone almost as soon as it appeared, and the easy smile was back in place.
“I’m fine,” he said, and waved her along. “It’s cold enough to freeze the bollocks off a rooster. No reason to stand here. I’ll race you home.”
He easily beat her to the front gate and stood there panting, his breath fogging around him in the cold air.
“Not fair,” Disa protested between gasps. “Your legs are a lot longer than mine, and you’ve been training.” She wiped at her nose, which had started to drip.
Bron’s grin was unapologetic. “But I bet you’re a lot warmer now, yes?”
That was true. She no longer quaked beneath her many layers of wool. She did, however, still reek. “Go see your amman,” she said. “When I’m done here, I’ll come to your house. I was supposed to go there tomorrow anyway and give her the lesson plan I completed.”
“Ah, that’s right. She’s your teacher now.” He crossed his arms, regarding her with a puzzled look. I heard ten differentstories about your brawl with the schoolmaster.” His eyes rounded. “Did you really beat him with a cudgel?”
“No, I did not,” she snapped. “You’d think those gossiping ninnies would at least get their facts straight.”
“What fun is there in that?” He whooped and dodged the handful of snow she scooped from the ground and threw at him.
“Take a bath,” he shouted as he darted down the road leading to his mother’s house. “And don’t dally. I won’t be in Panrin for long.”
It was the fastest bath Disaris had ever taken, and the fastest hair-washing as well. Her teeth threatened to chatter right out of her mouth as she sluiced barely tepid water over her body and scrubbed her scalp. She enlisted her mother’s help to braid her hair and secure it at the nape with the hair bodkin Bron had made for her.
“Keep still before I accidentally stab you with this lovely pin,” Gheza had admonished her. “Bron isn’t going to run off if you’re a few minutes late getting to his house.”
Teeth still clacking with the cold, Disaris donned a freshly laundered frock, layering multiple scarves, a felted over-tunic, and a cloak over that. She added gloves and a cap to protect her hands and ears. By the time she was done, she was sure she resembled a bear.
She presented herself to her family who sat in the kitchen, huddled around the hearth. “How do I look?”
“Like a fuzzy bear!” Luda cried out and flashed a gap-toothed grin.
“Lovely,” Disa muttered and saw herself out, promising to return home by ninth bell.
It was Hazarin who answered her knock and ushered her inside. “Come in and warm up,” she said. “Bron’s in the back garden, gathering a few more pieces of firewood for the fire.”
When Bron returned, arms loaded with wood, he greeted Disaris with a smothered chuckle and a “You look like a small bear.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “At least I don’t smell like one anymore.”
Tired of the repeated ursid comparisons, she shrugged off the first couple of layers and removed her cap and gloves. Bron handed her a cup of hot tea his mother had brewed earlier, his gaze resting on her hair.
“You’re wearing the bodkin,” he said. “I’m better at carving now. I can make you a better one.”
Disaris reached back and closed a hand over the hair ornament. ‘I love this one. I don’t want a different one.” His pleased blush warmed her from the inside out.
