My sad attempt at humor is lost in another of Kishek’s mournful groans and some of the color drains from Awri’s face. The water in the kettle begins to boil, and Awri jumps when it whistles behind her. Our eyes meet, we laugh, and I turn the page.
The mood lightens over a cup of tea and Kishek busies himself in the kitchen, coming out with trays of seasoned butter, fresh baked rolls, and all manner of sliced cheese and fruit. He lowers a clattering stack of plates to the table, just in time to hide the growl that comes from my stomach.
An early spring rain sets in and once Awri’s sure I’m content to stay and wait out the storm, she sends a messenger to inform my uncle. I’m pleased, if not a little surprised, when the female settles in beside me on a large chair by the crackling fire. She hands me the heavy tome of fea, offering to answer every question I ask about the creatures contained within its pages.
My entire life, I’ve been taught that the fea who remained in our veil died out long ago, and I can’t say that I’m sad that my tutors had been wrong about that. It feels like my entire world tripled in size in the span of an afternoon, and I begin to wonder what other secrets might be revealed to me before I complete my mission and return home.
Late in the afternoon a thunderstorm rolls in with a dense covering of dark clouds. The rain comes down in a sudden deluge with not a single break in the clouded horizon to promise its end.
“I have more than enough rooms for us all. You are welcome to stay here tonight,” Awri offers sweetly as Kishek brings a cake to the table, cutting into and plating it before passing the thick chocolate slices around.
“I really shouldn’t. My uncle will worry,” I lie.
In reality, the man is bound to be thrilled by the proposition, but I left my cloak in my wardrobe like a fool and the contents of my little pouch in its pocket. My need for the herb is something I can hardly explain to the female without being firmly cast out of the inner circle I’ve somehow managed to find myself in.
“I insist. My letter said you would stay until the rain has ended, so he shouldn’t worry. It’s far too muddy for a carriage now and I won’t have you walking back in the storm.”
She squeezes my arm from where she sits beside me. “It’s no trouble, Shivaria. There really is plenty of room. Just think of it like the sleepovers we had when we were young. It will be fun.”
Her warm smile is full of expectation and all I can think about is the look of horror on Avanjelin’s face when my blade sank into her flesh, forever depriving her of her flawless beauty. I smile and nod, even as my stomach clenches with nerves, threatening to expel my dinner.
Late in the evening, Awri shows me to a room tucked back in the farthest corner of the cottage. The general is given a room directly next to mine, and I have no doubt the decision is purely tactical on his part. I will have to pass by his door to make my way into any other part of the house.
My room is every bit as quaint as the rest of Awri’s home. Pink ruffled sheets tumble to the floor, falling from a bed that looks as if it was carved from a large bundle of thick roots. A small window looks out over the river and once I’ve made sure it opens without a sound, I mark it as my quickest escape route.
I’ve folded my pants and laid them on top of a wooden dresser painted in sprigs of lavender when footsteps sound on the stairs overhead. The rest of the party settles in for the night and I tip my ear toward the ceiling curiously when only two doors close above.
I have no idea how many rooms are at the top of the stairs, and I chastise myself for not asking Awri to give me a full tour of her home when I had the chance. While it is entirely possible there are only two rooms above me, and one is being shared, I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve done a sweep of the ground floor and made sure I know where everyone is sleeping tonight. I am already uneasy about sharing a wall with the general and having another unaccounted-for body isn’t an option. Every instinct I have tells me to know where my enemies are.
I open my door as slowly as I can, blessing the stars when the hinges don’t make a sound. I move into the hall and take six blessedly silent steps before I’m buffeted by a gust of air from the general’s door as it flies open. It’s obvious he was getting ready for bed, like me he is absent his shoes.
My gaze wanders up from the floor, lingering above his waist. He’s a few buttons short at the top of his tunic, and it’s splayed wide revealing adangerously chiseled chest that I’d rather have remained oblivious to. I’m not surprised to find the male glaring down at me when my eyes meet his.
“What are you doing?” he manages to somehow bark, even in a hushed whisper.
“I was just going to the kitchen for some water.” The lie slides off my tongue.
“Then why are you sneaking?”
“I amnotsneaking. I am trying not to wake everyone up.” I glare back. “It’s called being polite. I’ll explain the concept to you another time.”
He frowns and takes a step into the hall, wrapping his hand around my arm and shuffling me back toward my room. His shoulders are wide enough that he’s effectively created a wall barring me from the rest of the cottage.
“You stay here,” he says, clearly annoyed when he points at my door. “I will bring you a glass of water.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I whisper, trying to tear my arm from his grasp. “As I must apparently explain myself to you at every turn, I also have to relieve myself, or are you planning on doing that for me as well?”
He stops in his attempt to push me back through the hallway and into my room but makes no move to let me pass. The line of his jaw tenses and I wonder if he is seriously debating whether he’s going to allow me the privilege. His eyes narrow and his grip tightens but this time he pulls me out of the hall and toward the bathing chamber next to the kitchen. He lines me up in front of the door, drops my arm, crosses his own over his chest, and waits.
“You’re just going to stand right outside the door and listen?” I ask.
When he makes no move to answer or step away to grant me my privacy, I puff out my irritation and slip inside, pulling the lever by the sink to give him something to listen to. I’ve no actual need for this room but I do a quick sweep, nonetheless. I’m unsurprised to find that it’s empty and the small window by the tub is far too narrow to make for a convenient exit if I should need it.
The moment I step out, the general’s hand clutches my arm in a bruising grip and he’s hauling me right back toward my bedroom. I plant myfeet, not that I can stop him unless I plan on breaking his arm.
Tempting.
When he turns to see why I’m resisting him, I just smile sweetly and say, “Water?”
