Hekla straightened and peered into his eyes. “Do you never regret your choices? Wish you could go back and be smarter?”
He shook his head.
“If I’m to understand,” said Hekla slowly, “you’re a man who lives in the present, perhaps without considering the future. And I’m a woman whose mind dwells on the past.”
The Fox’s gaze grew thoughtful. “It would seem that way.”
An incredulous laugh fell from her lips. “I want to be more like you tonight,” said Hekla impulsively.
A hint of a frown marred his beautiful face. “Are you?—”
“Teach me.”
The Fox contemplated silently for a moment. “You can start by...sharing a secret with me.”
It was not what she’d been expecting. “A secret?” Hekla scowled. “And how do I know you’re not digging for information?”
He shrugged. “I suppose you’ll have to trust me, Lynx.”
Hekla’s old instincts urged caution, urged her not to trust this man, but as she stole a glance at him, she found herself saying, “I taste colors.”
The Fox laughed, then stilled. “You taste?—”
“Colors. When I find pleasure.”
The Fox’s pupils spread like ink through water. When he spoke, his voice was rough as sand. “Explain.”
Hekla wanted to retreat inside herself—to erect her sharp defenses meant to keep others out. But there was something special about this night, this riverbank, this man. And strangely enough, her revelation made her feel momentarily free from both the past and the future.
“Violet tastes like strawberries,” she said. “Gold is a bitter, aged mead. And magenta...magenta tastes like honey.” Hekla buzzed inthe wake of this confession—a secret she’d not even told Rothna when she was madly in love with him.
Hazel eyes watched her from beneath sweeping black lashes. “What color did youseejust now?”
“Magenta.”
“Magenta,” repeated the Fox, in a low, deep voice. He cleared his throat. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” He rubbed his beard, deep in thought. “I need something good to match your truth.” He was silent for a long moment, before saying, “I hope that second chances are a very real thing.”
“Ah,” said Hekla, watching him carefully. “So, you do have regrets after all.”
The Fox’s sigh was heavy. “Only this one thing.”
His words held a melancholy that Hekla did not care for. “Second chancesarea real thing,” she found herself saying. “I’m living proof of it.” She did not have to show him her prosthetic arm for the Fox to glean her meaning.
Hekla braced for the inevitable slew of questions that would follow and mentally flipped through the false answers she usually gave her paramours. She’d learned long ago that nothing dampened the mood like discovering that her former husband had chopped off her arm and left her for dead.
But the Fox only threw her a grateful smile. “Let me try a better truth,” he said, his face contorting in mock contemplation. “I only pretend to like ale.”
Hekla could not help but smile at that. “Pretend?”
“Why a warrior is expected to drink something that, quite frankly, tastes like urine, I do not know.”
The corners of Hekla’s lips tipped up. “And what of brennsa?”
The Fox’s eyes widened in false alarm. “Never again. One home set alight is enough?—”
Hekla’s head fell back as laughter burst free. “There’s a story here, I’m certain.”
“Aye, there is,” said the Fox. He turned toward her, eyes so dark only a thin strip of hazel remained. “But I’d rather discover what the colorgreentastes like.”
