Nevertheless, anger had provided only a brief distraction before fading away. Hopelessness threatened me with each step I took toward my cottage—soon to benotmy cottage. What I needed was to cuddle Warty and go to bed. At least sleep would offer some respite. I hoped for a dreamless night.
At some point on the walk home, the protector put their cloak around me. I had delved so far into my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice until the chills left my body. The cloak smelled like them—evening breezes laced with cinnamon and ginger—which I dutifully ignored.
They still had a hood over their face, but without their cloak, I could see their body in full. They were clad from tip to toe in black leather, and the muscles underneath were impressive, to say the least. At Sylvie’s, in my half-conscious state, I’d caught a glimpse of them, but this clear view brought many other assets into focus. Their shoulders were thick and broad—every part of them was broad, really—and a crossbow lay across their back, no longer hidden by the cloak I now wore.
They looked built for war, which was good. I intended to battle them every chance I got.
My cottage loomed closer, the protector still several paces away from me. How did they know exactly where to go? My gut dropped.
“Excuse me, how do you know where I live? Did you—”
“Follow you around? Track your every move? Stalk you in the middle of the night?”
I stopped walking. Did Eldrene just strap me with my future murderer?
“If you must know, princess, I came to your cottage totrack down that squirrel. Their scent led here, so that’s where I started. Now, start walking. I would like to sleep before sunrise.”
They tracked theirscent? I began walking again, my mind reeling with who orwhatthis protector could be.
“Are you…”unnatural, I wanted to say. “Are you acreatureor something.”
“I’m more of an ‘or something,’ but that’s for another time,” they replied, almost cheerful.
I swallowed down my fear. There was too much to worry about this eve. Myor somethingwould have to wait for another day.
Steps away from the front garden, my heart sank lower. I’d walked out of there as one person and returned another… andwithanother person. Not to mention, I’d ruined my dress from Rosie, which, while far from being the worst thing that had happened today, was still the linchpin in my world imploding.
The protector opened my front garden gate as if they owned the place.
“Excuse me, this is my cottage. I’ll lead you from here.” They put their hands up in surrender. I huffed past them, slamming the garden gate behind me, praying it hit them.
The only light guiding our way came from my bedroom window, which shouldn’t have been happening. I’d left the lantern candle on again. I always burned those things out too quickly.
I opened my door and wordlessly headed inside. The protector followed, and the door clicked shut behind us. A scuttling noise filled the quiet room, and the protector tensed beside me.
“Afraid of bumps in the night, are we?” I cooed.
They didn’t answer. Instead, they moved in front of me, ready to take on whatever beast lay in wait. This protector took their job seriously, at least.
A laugh bubbled up, and I chuckled before I could stop myself. I quickly grabbed a match and lit the candle on my kitchen table, casting light on the creature that had the protector up in arms.
Warty sat atop a stack of books, nibbling a cracker and getting crumbs everywhere.
“Is that—”
“A terrible monster? Yes, yes, it is. Just look at the mess he’s making. You should have demolished him already.” Warty gave a perturbed squeak.
“Well, am I wrong? How many times have I told you not to eat my books?” I kissed him on the nose, but his annoyance still stood. Through his squeaks, he seemed to be telling me that having a stack of books as a makeshift table beside the firewood oven was the real issue here. He was perfectly correct.
I tried to interject, but he balled up and rolled away.
“Do you, uh, understand him?” they asked. They stood near the kitchen table, the candlelight casting them in shadows and gold.
“Sometimes.” I shrugged. “He squeaks at me while I garden, so I—”
The garden. My garden. A painful jolt went right through my chest.
Every morning, I woke up with a smile, knowing my day would be filled with singing to the seeds and tending to mygarden beds. When batches of fruits and vegetables were ready, I’d conscript Rosie to help, and we’d spend all day delivering goods to shoppes and homes—the reason I woke up every day.
