Ah. That was likely his real issue with the faeries. Before moving to Bavenpier, Tasia had tried to research the local faeries, animals, and general landscape. She hadn’t learned everything, but her findings suggested that while harpies were large half-woman/half-bird creatures with sharp talons and less-than-stellar personal hygiene, they usually kept to themselves. There were stories here and there of men being taken, but none of the sources agreed about why. Tasia hadn’tworried about them in her reading, and Bagni’s account actually reassured her.
The path narrowed again, and Bagni took his place in front of Tasia. More enthralled with his scary stories than he had been with leering at her, he turned around and walked backward several times. Tasia worried that he would trip and fall, requiring some form of sympathy from her that would undoubtedly be misinterpreted as personal interest.
“Wolves are the real danger in these woods.” A terrible glee shone on Bagni’s face. “They got great hearing and sense of smell. Can track you for leagues, they can.”
Reports of wolf attacks occasionally reached their ears in Diomland. The merchant caravans or hunting parties had run-ins from time to time. This had once given her a vicarious thrill in the safety of her parlor, but hearing about the reality of wolves while in the forest was a vastly different circumstance.
“The worst part is how quiet they move. Never hear ’em coming until they gotcha by the throat.”
Tasia’s hand crept to the soft skin at the front of her neck involuntarily.
“Me an’ the boys woke up to wolves in our camp once.” Bagni rubbed his hand up and down the other arm, looking genuinely unnerved for a moment. “They was going for the deer we killed. Didn’t string ’im up high enough, I guess.”
Tasia swallowed hard, not excited to hear the rest but unable to stop listening. A twig snapped under his foot, causing Bagni to stumble. He faced forward again and kept talking.
“Wolves is susceptible to the blade, like the rest of us. It’s gettin’ the blade in ’em that’s difficult.” He coughed. “If they hadn’t been tryin’ for our deer, we never woulda stood a chance.”
Not sure what exactly “stringing up a deer” looked like, Tasia guessed the carcass was hanging from a tree in some way. Her imagination filled in a grisly nighttime scene dramaticallylit by a campfire. In it, vicious, deranged wolves circled a tree with a dead deer in it while slovenly men who looked like Bagni menaced them with swords. She knew her imagination was leaving out the gorier details because she had never been hunting or used a sword, but she was grateful that the scene playing in her mind without her consent wasn’t any worse.
“I only had a knife at the time,” Bagni continued, oblivious to her reaction. “Tried to hang back, but one of the b— Beg pardon. One of the beasties snuck up behind me. Gave me this.”
With growing horror, Tasia watched as her escort pulled up his shirt and showed off his hairy gut. Three jagged lines of scar tissue scraped across the bottom of his ribs.
“Any lower and I’da been a goner, right ’nuff.”
They had stopped walking for this spectacle. Tasia could feel her eyebrows trying to become part of her hairline.
“Oh my,” she offered weakly.
Thankfully, Bagni was quite satisfied with this response. He released his shirt and started walking again.
“You got that right. Yer walking through these woods with arealman,” he boasted.
Tasia breathed deeply for the first time when she saw that they were within sight of the village. She had forgotten her aches and pains during the terrible story time, but they returned with a vengeance. Somehow, she managed to take her leave of Bagni without promising anything or suggesting that her gratitude meant more than the simple “thank you.”
Mother Anthi still expected Tasia to make dinner when she got home. Presenting the contents of one of her pockets sufficiently distracted Anthi and Stavros long enough for her to sneak into the bedroom she shared with Chara. Tasia hastily hid the remaining money in the bottom of her trunk. She knew it couldn’t stay there, but delaying might make the others suspicious.
She slipped out of her shoes with a stifled groan. As she suspected, several blisters had formed. Oh well. Cooking barefoot wouldn’t hurt anyone but herself. She would deal with her pain later.
After serving a slapdash dinner, Tasia crashed into bed, falling asleep before her bedmate and fending off dreams of sharp teeth for the rest of the night.
Chapter Four
In Which Proper Footwear Leads to Blackmail
The next week was torturous for several reasons. Tasia’s body hurt in ways she had never experienced before. Taking a walk through the estate gardens or walking and shopping in the city had in no way prepared her for four hours of hiking. The whole first day back, Tasia worked without her shoes.
While scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees, she remembered that she needed different footwear. She had cleaned the whole kitchen and most of the living space before she hit upon an idea that might work. Using the money she had secreted away could let them know that she hadn’t handed everything over. If she asked the soft-hearted Anthi at the right time for some of it back to buy shoes, she wouldn’t risk her stash. She decided to wait until dinner that night because Pagona was dining with friends and both parents were currently out. The only one keeping Tasia company was the perpetually crumb-spilling, yogurt-coated Chara.
In an effort to soften the Galanis adults, Tasia prepared her best dish for dinner. Bavenpier cooking differed from her own, but the spices and herbs weren’t completely unfamiliar, as Diomland was a giant blend of the various countries on the continent. She roasted a chicken with a mixture of spices that smelled good to her, and she slaved over her fanciest bread recipe.
Stavros dug into his meal without comment. Mother Anthi, at least, thanked the one who actually made the meal. After letting them get halfway through their dinners, Tasia stood up to grab more butter from the counter. She accidentally-on-purpose stumbled. The resulting wince and stifled moan were genuine as she miscalculated and bumped a blister against the lower cabinets. Having planned well, her feet were in full view of Anthi, who gasped.
“Tasia, dear. Whatever has happened to your feet?”
Years of pretending for Diomland’s minor nobility served her well. “I’m afraid my shoes aren’t great for hiking,” she began with a polite grimace. “I was wondering . . . if I could have some of the money back to buy boots?” She left it as a question.
As expected, Anthi tried to hide her horror. Tasia suspected that the woman already had plans for that money and may have even spent some. But she also expected that Stavros held the actual purse strings.
