Nothing happened. He knocked again, slightly louder.
Finally, the door opened a crack, and he saw a young woman with a brown kerchief around her hair. Her soft eyes were large and dark in the dim candlelight as they gazed up at him, searching his face while she held the door firmly in place.
In an effort to appear less threatening, Onric took half a step backward and dropped his hood to show his face.
“Excuse me, miss, I’ve been caught in the storm.” He held out an open palm, showing three coins. “Would you be so kind as to let me and my two horses spend the rest of the night in your barn? We’ll be gone by morning.”
Her eyes widened at the sight of the gold in his hand and she glanced back inside, as though checking to make sure no one else was awake. Turning back, she scrutinized his face for several more moments, and her eyes softened. “It’s a bad night to be caught out,” she finally said. “Put the horses in the barn around back, then meet me at the kitchen door. I’ll see if I can find some dry blankets.”
“Thank you, miss. That would be most appreciated.” He bowed slightly and handed her the coins. She closed the door, and he tossed his hood up before trudging back to his brother. “We can stay in the barn. I didn’t mention you.”
“Good. Probably for the better.”
They found the barn after some fumbling in the darkness, but eventually got both horses settled in two empty stalls. All the stalls were empty from the looks of it, which was disheartening but not unusual. The erratic storm patterns had destroyed countless harvests during the past few harvest seasons, and everyone was struggling these days.
Leaving Ian in the barn, Onric again braved the open weather as he made his way back to the house. The kitchen door was easy to find as the maid had left it open a crack, letting an inviting stream of warm light spill out into the darkness. When he peered through the doorway, though, she herself was nowhere in sight. In that moment, the modest kitchen with its open fire crackling in the hearth was the most inviting thing he had ever seen. It took more self-control than he cared to admit not to enter the house uninvited and dry off. So as not to frighten the small woman, he simply removed his gloves and contented himself with trying to warm his hands through the crack in the open doorway.
A few moments later, she reappeared and opened the door wide, motioning for him to step inside. He gladly accepted the offer.
“Quietly, please,” she whispered, stepping up beside him to shut the door. She tilted her head up to him with a small smile. “Not that anyone could hear anything above this storm.”
He liked her smile. Despite the crackling fire, it was easily the warmest thing in the room. “I’m surprised you heard my knock.”
“I almost missed it.” She stepped away from him and motioned towards the fire. “Come. Warm yourself for a moment.”
Slipping off his cloak, he hung it on a peg by the door so as not to drip water throughout the room. Then he gratefully made his way to the fire.
Meanwhile, the girl looked through baskets and shelves in the kitchen. She was small, and obviously a maidservant in the household. Her thin dress did not have the added layer of furs that the daughter of a landowner would wear during the cold season. It was not unusual, but it was a cruel reflection of her master or mistress not to provide an extra layer of protection, especially as this silverreign had been excessive in both length and chill. It gave her a weightless air, though, not to be bundled in furs as she stood on her tiptoes peering into a cabinet. Her hair was a light brown with flecks of gold that reflected the dancing flames of the fireplace. It was braided around the back of her head and held in place with a knotted kerchief. Realizing he was staring, Onric quickly moved his eyes around the rest of the room. A basin of water and a washboard were right next to him, along with a basket of clothing.
“Are you washing clothes? At this hour of the night?” he asked, realizing a moment too late that his question was blunt and accusatory.
“It was a long market day,” she responded, as though that were answer enough. Turning towards him, she held a plate that contained some bread and hard cheese. “I’m afraid I have nothing finer to offer you, but please eat.”
He gratefully accepted the plate. “After the day I have had, this looks finer than a feast.” He thought of Ian in the barn with a pang of guilt. At the very least, he could smuggle a bite out to him. He would be leaving the warm kitchen in a few moments, anyways.
“Please, sit and eat while you dry off.” She gestured towards the rough wooden table in the center of the room.
He moved to sit down, but his sleeve, split from the shoulder to wrist, was hanging down at an awkward angle and caught the corner of the table. It disrupted his movement, and he landed in the chair a bit heavily, rocking it back before he caught and steadied himself. He extricated his flailing sleeve and tried to tuck the sagging fabric safely out of the way.
The maid stepped closer. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“At my sleeve? You needn’t trouble yourself.”
“I’m an excellent seamstress.”
“Oh! I have no doubt, but I can get it fixed later.”
“I can’t send you back out in the storm with a tear such as that.” She was standing right next to him.
“If you insist.” He held out his left arm.
She picked up the torn ends, pulling them into their proper place above his arm and pinching them back together as she surveyed the damage. “If you care to wait by the fire for a little extra time, I can fix this. It won’t take long.”
He could feel the light touch of her fingertips through the fabric of his shirt. The innocent gesture heightened his senses. “Thank you, that would be most kind.”
She stepped back expectantly.
“Do I need to take it off?”
