“How long ago was it?”
“Two weeks. Maybe three.”
“Well, surely cows can’t just up and disappear. They must be out there still.”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought, too. But I helped them scour these woods for days. ‘Course you’re welcome to try yourself if you think you can do better.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I tried to examine his face. He was nearly unreadable, though. The muscles around hisjaw were tight, but they always seemed to be. Grouchiness, I was quickly learning, was his default. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if the tension was at least partially due to something else.
Something like…he knew where the cows went. Straight into the mouth of his dragon.
“Arvid and his family,” I said after a moment. “Are they close friends of yours?”
“I can’t say I have any close friends,” came his—unsurprisingly—gruff answer. But after a brief moment, he added, “They’re good folk. I suppose out of everyone on this island, I’m closest to them.” He grunted a chuckle. “Sounds a bit sad when you put it like that.”
“Well, I know how you feel,” I found myself saying. “Back home, my closest neighbors lived well over a mile away, so I spent most days never seeing another friendly face. Not unless you count my horse, which I very much do. Her name is Stella.”
“Back home? And where is that exactly? You never said.”
I pursed my lips, considering the many lies I could choose. But then I figured I ought to go with the truth—or as close to the truth as I could get. He could clearly see I was elven. He could likely hear it in my accent, too. “The Kingdom of Edda. I lived in the forest just north of the city of Vilmar.”
“Hmm. All by yourself?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “All by myself.”
A look of suspicion crossed his face, quick as lightning. That told me two things. One, he didn’t believe a damn word I said. Two, he knew how the guild operated. He knew we didn’t live alone in forest cottages, surrounded by the scent of fresh wildflowers and the orchestra of morning birdsong. The number of people who knew our lodging situation could be contained on a single sheet of parchment. Ordinary folk—those outside of the guild—weren’t privy to that kind of information. I hadn’t evenknown my family had moved into the guild-hall—or that a guild-hall even existed—until I’d told my brother I’d join.
I’d then had to swear a vow to the Old Gods that I would abstain from all manner of enjoyable activities. Only then could I know the guild's secrets.
For a very long time, I’d had no idea where my family was. Just that they lived inside the city.
“Why’d you leave it?” Rune asked when we reached his cottage.
I stared at the cat perched in the window, basking in the midday sun. It was such a sweet sight it made my heart ache. “I suppose I was lonely.”
An honest answer—perhaps more honest than I’d intended to be with Rune. Because while I wanted to rip down his walls so I could reveal his every secret, I didn’t want him to tear down mine.
Rune searched my face with eyes less angry than they’d been a moment before. “Why not just go to the city?”
“Not enough plants for my liking,” I said, then cleared my throat. Time to steer this conversation in a different direction. “So, if I build the entire fence myself, do I get to eat all this cheese? Because otherwise, I probably should have asked for more of it.”
Rune actually cracked a smile.
7
RUNE
Iled Frida toward my workshop, trying not to let my expression betray my mess of a brain. All morning, I’d been laying traps. So far, she’d dodged every damn one. I’d expected her to turn down the job of building the fence for the dwarves. It locked her in for two weeks. Wouldn’t she want to finish her guild assignment before then? And when I’d asked her about home, I thought she’d make up some story, like she’d grown up in the orc city of Fafnir or something. And since her accent was so strongly elvish, it’d be clear she was lying.
She’d been truthful about her home city, though.
A seed of doubt had taken root inside my mind. I wanted to rip it up and throw it to the birds, but I also didn’t want to treat her like an assassin if she wasn’t one. I might be a gruff bastard, but I wasn’t a monster.
Because, if her storywastrue, she needed my help. She needed a job and a home and food.
As I shoved open my workshop door, I nodded to myself. I needed to find a way to confirm who she was. For now, I’d showher how to build a fucking fence and hope to fate that I could get her to warm to this place in case she was here for something else.
“Here we are.” I tugged open the curtains to let in the sun. The midday light washed the shop in shades of yellow, illuminating the motes of sawdust drifting through the room like woody snowflakes. I scratched my tusk, suddenly aware of the jumble of mess that cluttered the space. I wished I’d thought to tidy up in here before showing Frida.
