“They’ve run out till tomorrow. Just the pottage.”
Skye shrugged, sinking her spoon into the pottage. She ate ravenously, her lips glistening with grease. He watched her for a moment, stirring the spoon in his bowl.
“Hungry, are ye?” he commented.
She winced, nodding. “I daenae ken when I last ate. And that’s nae an exaggeration. As far as I can remember, I havenae eaten in the past year.”
“But ye must have.”
“Well, aye, I have. It’s awful, ye ken. Having a gap in yer memory like this.”
He took a tentative bite of his pottage. It was delicious, as usual.
“I can imagine,” he murmured. “Nay, that isnae true. I cannae imagine, and I daenae care to.”
She nodded. “I’d nae wish this on anyone else.”
He paused. “Nay?”
She gave a harsh laugh, meeting his eyes. “It’s awful. Like having a blind spot. Ye are constantly thinking of who or what might be hovering out there, waiting to attack. Ye are always thinking of… of what might be coming. Of what ye might miss.”
Evander considered that.
“I got hit in the face with a training staff when I was fourteen,” he said abruptly.
She raised her eyebrows. “Me condolences…?”
“What I mean is, me eye swelled up. It was bad. I was lucky nae to lose me eye, really. So it swelled up so bad that I couldnae see out of that eye for a few days. I remember how I used to turn in circles trying to see everything. I’d taken it for granted, being able to see everything.
“Me faither wouldnae let me take time off training. He said I needed to be strong. So I kept sparring, and the other lads quickly learned to attack from me blind spot. I just never saw them coming. That blind spot was all I thought about. I suppose… I suppose it’s a wee bit like that.”
“A wee bit,” she agreed, eyeing him thoughtfully.
They ate in silence after that, munching and slurping until their spoons scraped the bottom of the bowls. On cue, Janie appeared, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Yer room is ready,” she announced. “And yer bath, me Lady.”
Skye’s face lit up. “Me bath! At last.” Then she paused, her expression darkening. “Wait, did she sayourroom? As in, our room, singular?”
“Ah,” Evander sighed. “About that.”
Ten minutes later, the two of them stood side by side, staring into their room.
“Could ye nae at least have asked for two beds?” Skye muttered bitterly.
Evander winced. “It would have looked odd, would it nae? We’re wed, remember? I introduced ye as me wife.”
“Aye, but?—”
“Besides, I am trying to keep an eye on ye,” he added, a little more tersely than before. “So I willnae sleep in a separate room, if that’s all the same to ye. Cannae do much protecting with a wall and a pair of locked doors between us, can I?”
She scowled but said nothing, a sure sign that she wanted to disagree with him on principle but could not pick fault with his logic. He remembered that well enough from their brief, tumultuous acquaintance a year ago.
Janie had tactfully disappeared some minutes ago, leaving Evander with the key in his hand. Skye stepped forward tentatively, and he followed, taking in the space.
It was a decent enough room, considering the calibre of the Gristle-Pig. The floor was well-swept and clean, the ceiling mostly free of cobwebs and dust.
Neat curtains hung at the window, and a crisp, warm fire crackled in the hearth. A large bed dominated most of the room, laden with blankets and furs. When Skye shuffled over to it and perched uncertainly on the edge, the ropes groaned and creaked.
