“The books are available for anyone to read here in the monastery. Which languages do you need?”
I grimace to myself, because I’m an idiot for thinking they’d be in English. That’d be too easy, wouldn’t it? Just because I can speak to Kalos, it doesn’t mean I can read the languages here. “Which languages do you have?”
He pauses in his churning, glancing over at me. “Well, most of my herbal lore books are Yshremi, but I do have a few Adassian tomes. And then there are the Aventinii treatises, but those are mostly related to war…”
I shake my head. “Maybe…books with pictures? Do you have those?”
Omos gives me an utterly indignant look. “Brother Jasho would be horribly offended to hear you even ask such a thing. He is a venerated illuminator and trained with one of the best.”
“Sorry.”
“But, yes. There are many books with illustrations. You are always free to look through any of the books. Lady Magra’s motto is about generosity and sharing, even with books.”
“Perfect.” Maybe I can make a list of books that will help the villagers. They can come look at the pictures when needed. It’s not the best solution, but it’s a start.
“Now,” Omos says, giving me a stern look. “You must churn harder if you plan on making any butter.”
Oh god. My arms are going to be destroyed before this day is out. “What if we just make a nice smoothie?—”
Omos never stops churning. “Butter!”
Chapter
Thirty
By the time all the dairy is churned, strained, and boiled, I’m exhausted. I fall asleep on my cot, too tired to go and fetch Kalos from the field. I rouse from a nap, my arms sore, and roll over in bed…only to find my nose pressed against a warm chest.
“You smell strange,” Kalos murmurs.
“Hello to you, too.” I fight back a yawn. “You smell like goats.”
“They really are the most fascinating, happy little creatures,” he muses.
His arms are around me, and he strokes his fingers over my back through my clothing. I’m not sure why he’s being so very cuddly this morning, but I’ll take it. It’s nice to be touched, nice to be held close and feel warm and protected. I lean in, reluctant to leave the circle of his arms. “Is it morning? I should probably get up.”
“You can stay for a bit. I’ll just growl at the monk if he comes this way.”
I smile, eyes closed, and snuggle in a little closer. “You’re in a playful mood.”
“Because I want to stay in bed and while the day away? I think that’s more like me than you realize.” His fingers dance along my spine, moving up my back. “There’s nothing wrong with being lazy.”
That makes me shake some of the sleep off. I have plans that need to be enacted. Plans that make me excited. Plans that don’t involve lazing the day about in bed, no matter how cuddly he might be acting. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“Me? Never. Maybe I just wanted to hold you close for a while.” His hand strays to my lower back, then…even lower. “What’s so wrong with that?”
I’m surprised when he grabs my ass. I’m even more surprised when he gives it a squeeze, his fingers digging into my skin. Heat curls through my body, followed by distrust. I pry myself out of his arms and sit up, eyeing him skeptically. “What’s going on?”
Kalos gives me a lazy grin, sliding a hand behind his head. “What makes you think something is going on? I can’t hold you a little while you sleep?”
His smile is utterly disarming, and it puts my senses on red alert even as my stomach flutters. I glance around the monastery, flustered. “Where’s Omos?”
“Out tending to the goats. Or the beehives. Something. I told him we needed some time alone and to make himself scarce.” He trails a finger on the bedding. “Come back to bed.”
I spring out of the cot as if it’s on fire. Taking a few steps back, I search the nearby surroundings for a weapon. “You’re not Kalos.”
“I assure you, I am.” He doesn’t get up. One foot dangles off the side of the cot and flexes absently. “Who else wouldI be?”
“I don’t know!”
