He hopped out of the wagon, the burlap fluttering behind him. He’d donned a pair of fitted brown trousers and a blue vested top that left his biceps exposed to the chill, though he didn’t seem to notice it. His hair was damp and curling around his ears. He must have taken a bath somewhere. A vision of what he might look like fully naked popped into my head. It didn’t take much imagination. I’d already seen enough to have a pretty good idea.
Heat flooded my cheeks.
Smiling, he strode toward me. A few nearby merchants called out to him, but he kept his eyes on me.
“Morning, Lil,” he said when he reached me. I held up the mug wordlessly. When he took it from me, his knuckles slid against mine, and my stomach transformed into a thousand frantic butterflies.
“Morning,” I answered. “Sorry about the cold night. I hope the tea can make up for it.”
“You know I don’t mind the cold. But I appreciate the thought anyway.” He took a sip, then wrinkled his nose. “What in fate’s name is this?”
“Nilsa’s morning brew, sure to wake you up and put a fire in your belly.” I grinned. “There’s a lot of cinnamon in it.”
He took another sip and then pounded a fist against his chest. “It’s eye-wateringly strong.”
“And I bet you’re not sleepy now.”
“You’re enjoying this far too much.” He shoved the mug toward me, but I danced back a few steps. “If I have to suffer, so do you.”
“I already had three sips of my own, and that was enough.”
He took one more sip, grimacing. “There. I’ve had my three. Please tell me I won’t offend Nilsa if I pour the rest of this on the ground.”
“I won’t tell her if you don’t mention I only had a few sips of it myself.”
“Deal.” Chuckling, Ragnar tipped the cinnamon concoction on the ground, adding another layer to the mud.
“So, you ready?” I asked him.
“Absolutely,” he said, handing me the empty mug. “Let’s see how the expert brews her ale.”
“Not quite,” I replied. “We have an errand to run first. The missing food, remember?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Oh, that. Are you finally going to say you need my help with it, then?”
“I don’tneedyour help, Ragnar.” I sidled up to him, leaving no more than a hair’s breadth between our chests. “But I will admit I want it. All I ask is for you to promise you won’t tell a soul what you’re about to see. That includes everyone here in Riverwold and everyone back home, wherever that is.”
A cloud crossed his face, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse me. He was silent for far too long.
I frowned. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” He ran his fingers through his thick crimson hair. “I just don’t like to think about home, that’s all.” A sigh. “Of course I’ll keep your secrets, Lilia. My only question is…what could be a bigger secret than a dragon?”
I smiled. “Oh, you’ll see.”
* * *
The Golden Falls fell in a sheet of water that was the color of ice. Sunlight gleamed across the rippling surface, transforming patches of the rushing river below into a kaleidoscope of pinks, oranges, and midnight blues. It was like gazing into another world.
Ragnar and I stood on the ridge, wind whipping our hair into knots, but his wagon perched behind us and blocked the worst of it. It had taken us nearly all day to drag the thing up the path into the lower mountain ridge. My body buzzed from the effort. My heart was pumping, my lungs were full, and every sense felt wild and alive, singing even in the cold.
After several long moments, I felt the weight of Ragnar’s gaze on me. I turned to find him examining my face, his lips tilted up in one corner.
I brushed the tangled hair out of my eyes, suddenly self-conscious. “What?”
“You love this so much,” he said quietly. “The wilds, the walks, the wandering road. There’s this look you get when we’re out here. You don’t have it in Riverwold. It’s pure contentment.”
“Don’t you think it feels good to move?”
