Beside the vase was a washing bowl, a pitcher of still-warm water, soaps, and a rounded iron shaving razor with a curled handle. There was also a small hand towel and atop it, face down, a handheld mirror.
The corners of my lips turned down. Heaving a breath, I opened one of the top drawers of the dresser and stowed away the mirror, careful not to turn it and risk a glimpse of my own reflection. I closed the drawer, skin prickling, and gritted my teeth before turning to the razor.
I stood in my trousers, which I had slept in for lack of proper night pants, and for the first time in my life, I held a blade and pondered its possible grooming uses beyond removing thestubble on my face. In the past, I’d never revealed anything below my hips to the women I’d pursued intimately, afraid they would see my lack of vigor and mock me for it. So I’d never given the scattered hair across my body much thought. And I had been so young, I’d not had enough hair on my chest to fuss over. Yet now … I considered it. If I were to find the woman from the festival, would she prefer—
Ridiculous ruminations. I set the blade back down and ran my fingers through my hair, wishing Maerel had provided a comb instead of a mirror. After some time working on it, most of the tangles came loose. Unbraided, my silver hair fell past my shoulders.
I would be able to conceal the unusual color more easily , though, with it short.
Loosing a breath, I gathered the hair at the base of my skull, and with the blade, sawed through. I held out the forearm’s length of hair and sighed before tossing it into the waste basket beside the dresser. Running my fingers through what was left of my hair, I cut away at sections that felt too long or unruly, then lathered some soap and scraped at the slight growth of stubble at my jaw.
Despite my focus, my prior thoughts of the woman from the festival and her preferences returned. Growling my frustration and wishing I believed in gods so that I might pray I didn’t cut myself, I set to making the rest of myself more presentable.
I will not go out of my way to seek her out, will not waste time needed to pursue my plan. Yet if I come upon her by happenstance… would I rise for her again? Would it be selfish of me to revel in that experience once more?
Over a quick breakfast, Maerel explained the expectations of my contributions during my stay. They mostly consisted of tending the bar, cleaning tables, carrying things that were too heavy for her, and handling drunkards should they cause issues.She also implied other ways I could repay her for the rooster and my set of clothing; I did not entertain them with a response.
After our meal, she tasked me with carrying in a delivery of new linens, soaps, and other inn necessities. The carriage driver had left the crates of supplies near the front of the inn on the side of the main road, but I was to take everything around and through the back door so as to avoid bothering guests. I didn’t mind the busy work, and once I found a rhythm in which to avoid stepping on the hens that clucked at my feet each time I neared the back door, I began to enjoy the purpose the task gave me. It was simple work, peasant’s work, but I was outdoors, the air was crisp, and I was being kept busy. I was earning coin, doing something useful while I awaited nightfall and, if I were lucky, the show of a huntsman.
As I made trips back and forth, I pondered over my monster’s draw to the cinnamon-haired woman. I considered the effects she had on me, which inevitably led to thoughts of our encounter in the tower house. And that left me pent up, unaccustomed as I was to the new sensations of lust. Of course, such thoughts would do me no good. Yet I could not shake them from my subconscious. A yearning drew me to seek her out, to discover what was different about her, and to see if I could find need with her again. But I could not let such temptations overtake me.
I hefted another crate to my shoulder. At least in my duties as a guard, I was never placed in Elrune. The lord and his family would not be quick to recognize me, nor would the commander of the local garrison or any of the soldiers. The commoners, likely, would take no note of me at all. So long as no one saw my hair, I should be okay for some time at least. When the capital was thoroughly searched, guards would be sent to the surrounding areas. But for now, I had time to get word to Harlan and plan my next steps.
A faint humming tugged at my senses. It was more a feeling—a resonance—than a sound, similar to the sensation of the bond I shared with my monster that allowed me to detect his emotions. But it was more hazed, distant, like an attempt to make out the words of a whisper carried away by the wind.
I sat down on the crate I’d been carrying and wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. My heart thundered in my chest. It was deafening. An indescribable nervous excitement heated my body. Unable to resist the pull, I abandoned my task and moved into the shadows of the woods. The draw was irrefutable, tangible, and as I drew nearer to its source, the emotion it emanated became clear.Distress.
Becoming anxious, a tugging need to protect and defend was wearing on me, so I hastened my steps. The short cropping of the forest east of the inn cleared abruptly, opening to pastures and the back side of a stable.
At the forest’s edge beneath the overhang of branches, I squinted, heart thrumming. Then I saw her. The woman with the cinnamon hair. A lump formed in my throat, and fire heated my blood. She stood with a russet-colored mare grazing at her side and a man looming before her.
The man stood with a straight back and squared shoulders. Confident. He held the woman’s chin raised to him. The gesture was intimate, and he was much too close. Her shoulders were rolled, arms one over the other as if comforting herself. The posturing of her body screamed reservation. Did he not notice? Or did he not care? I snarled. I’d kill the man without hesitation should he try to force himself on her. In a distant way, I recognized this thought for the absurdity it was, yet somehow it was true. Irrefutably so.
With purposeful steps, I set out along the fence line, nearing them. The man’s eyes rose at my advancement and narrowed. The woman turned, brows drawn in; when she saw me, her lipsparted. If any man were to brush his lips to hers, it would be me, not this brute who caged her against the mare, whose forced presence distressed her.
Without hesitation, I swung over the fence. The man, whom I recognized vaguely, though I couldn’t place, stepped in front of her. His hand went to his sword. It didn’t matter. He was only a commoner, or perhaps the cobbler she’d spoken of at the festival. I could disarm him.
The woman’s hand covered his where it rested atop the hilt of his sword, and the man flicked his eyes to her.
“It’s okay, Ruairc,” she said, and gods, her voice was like spring rain. She turned her gaze to me and set her jaw. A guarded expression, the fire in her eyes a warning.A winter rain, then.
I stilled before them. A muscle flexed at my jaw as I resisted the urge to strike the man, sensing for some reason that it would displease the woman if I did. Something about her presence set aside all rational thought. Emotions drove me. The need to protect her, to keep her safe and … to keep her mine.Mine.With my heart pounding in my chest and a boiling hatred for the man who’d held her chin in his hand, my world altered.
I took a step back, drawing my brows together, and the woman exchanged words with the man. The thrum in my chest drowned out their conversation, drowned out all sound, until my name fell from her tongue. Silencing everything else. I raised my gaze to her. She stood before me, and when the sun caught her features, something much deeper than lust struck me. A knowledge befell me that I needed her, body, mind, and soul. That I could not breathe without her presence. Even as it countered all I knew to be necessary—finding a huntsman, getting word to Harlan, securing his safety before it was too late. No time for dalliances. Or anything, even, of a weightier nature. But I would make time. For her.
“Neirin.” She spoke my name again, and it sounded sharp on her tongue. “How did you find me?”
I swallowed. A few paces behind her, still by the mare, the man set me with a look I knew to be a warning. Then he left, brushes in his hands.
“Is that the cobbler?” I asked, gaze locked on him as he retreated, needing to know he was far away from us.
“Ruairc. Yes.”
Ruairc turned for the stables and disappeared behind a wall.
I returned my eyes to the woman, heartbeat still rapid in my chest. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine. Neirin, you can’t be here.”
