“Mmhmm.”
“You’ve never had wine before?”
“Never. I prefer it much more than ale.”
“I suggest you don’t drink it in gulps,” he rushed out, extending his arm in an attempt to slow me down. “You’ll get drunk if you down it like that.” I took another small, delicious sip before setting the glass back on the table. For some reason, he smiled at that.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he said, leaning back in his seat.
My question required the need of a short pause and a deep inhale. I finally asked, “Do I smell bad?” His little flinch told me that he wasn’t expecting that question. “You asked him to allow me a bath. Was it because my smell displeases you, or because I smell like horses?”
“What? No,” he said, placing his hand on my arm. Well, that sounded and felt reassuring at least. He retracted his hand. “Cordelia, if I’m being completely honest, you do not smell at all. It’s like your scent is…it’s barely there.”
“What does that mean? You said similar words when you…first came here, and I still don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s just—basically every person has their own unique scent. Some scents are more intense than others, but yours, yours I swear is the faintest.”
“Why? Is there something wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s only a little unusual, that’s all. I can scent the salt in your tears, in your sweat, the iron in your blood, but no other distinctive scent.”
“And that bothers you?”
“No. Yes. Well, sometimes.”
“Sometimes? Like when?”
“Like—like when it’s quiet…and your heart beats fast and I cannot tell why. Trying to figure it out the limited way can be very frustrating.”
“You mean the human way?”
“The human way, yes. I honestly don’t know how you do it, figuring out what another person is truly feeling without getting that reassuring shift in scent.”
“I don’t have a scent,” I whispered. “That’s what Georgious was going to say that day, when he tumbled onto me, isn’t it?”
Aegir didn’t have to answer; his face was telltale.
“You ordered your men not to say anything about my lacking scent?” I asked quietly.
“Well, I didn’torderthem exactly. I only asked them to be a little bit sensitive.”
“I’m fairly certain thatsensitiveis an adjective none of your men would want you to use on their behalf.” I took another sip from my wine. “And you literally growled,Do not disobey my orders.” The last few words came out deep as I mimicked a fragment of his tone.
Aegir pursed his plump lips. “Fine, yes. I specifically asked them not to say anything, but only because I was certain Joel would blurt it out the second you came close.”
“But then, why bother asking for a bath?”
“I figured you’d rather bathe than spend one more hour in that laundry place. The dress was an extra touch. I can see now that I’ve made the right request.” I caught his eyes roaming down my neck, my side, along the length of my legs—my skin visible through the luminous mesh. They lingered.
I took another sip—all right, anothergulp—of wine, then cleared my throat. “Yes, I much preferred the bath. Thank you.”
He stared back at me, then asked, “Have you ever been to other Lands outside of Ramel?”
“Never. I’ve journeyed only from the orphanage to here. Dunehaven is the farthest I’ve ever been away from the castle.”
“Do you wish to stay here forever?”
