“You really have a thing about fish,” she said. “I had no idea.”
“You hear stories,” he said darkly.
“Do you? Do you really?” She navigated across the room, leaves crunching underfoot, and found the daybed, exactly where she remembered it. It seemed smaller, though. And dustier. Lifting the quilt, she shook it, and twigs, leaves, and dust flew into the air. She coughed.
Setting the quilt aside in a heap, she pushed her hands against the mattress. It hadn’t disintegrated, which was a plus. She supposed it would hold her, and under where the quilt had lain, it wasn’t that dusty, at least in comparison. It wasn’t as if, after sailing through the night and all day, she was particularly clean anyway.
“Hey, there’s a hole in the floor,” Caz said, pleased. “I can root here for the night.”
Could she sleep here? After their escape and long sail, she should be able to sleep anywhere.If mice or raccoons or whatever murder me in the night, at least I’ll get some rest.Gingerly, she lay down on the little bed. It creaked but didn’t collapse. The quilt was the velvety soft of worn cotton, and the mattress cradled her as she sank into it. It smelled like dust and a little like roses. She felt her neck and shoulders begin to unknot.
Outside, the owl hooted softly.
As dawn pried its fingers into the vine-covered cottage, Kiela opened her eyes. And screamed when she saw a man standing in the doorway with a scythe in his hands. She tried to jump to her feet, but the little daybed couldn’t handle the quick movement. It toppled over, and she spilled onto the floor.
The man rushed forward.
Kiela screamed again.
He backpedaled. Leaned his scythe against the wall. Held up his hands, palms out. “Sorry. Very sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He had a deep voice, soothing. She’d never seen him before, which wasn’t a surprise since she hadn’t been here in ages. He wasn’t what she’d call handsome, but he didn’t look like a murderer either. Not that she knew what that would look like. He was tall, which wasn’t an argument for or against murderer. He must have had to duck through the doorframe. He also appeared stronger than the average library-goer. Judging by his arms, he looked as if he could pick up one of her book crates one-handed. Or crush her throat with his pinkie. None of that was at all reassuring.
She got to her feet and scanned the cottage quickly. She didn’t see the spider plant anywhere, and she felt panic rise up from her stomach. “Caz? Caz, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
Hands still out, the man said in the same soft, deep tone, “I didn’t hurt anyone. Or see anyone else. There was only you here when I came in.”
Her heart was thumping wildly in her rib cage, even though he hadn’t made any threatening moves beyond coming into the place where she was sleeping and scaring her half to death. It was terrifying enough that he was large, male, and here.And I don’t see Caz.“Why are you here?” she demanded, trying (and failing) to keep the shake out of her voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Mildly, he said, “I had planned to ask you the same questions. This house has been abandoned for years, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t someone’s home.”
“It’s mine,” Kiela said. “My home. It was. Is.”
“Ah,” he said.
He waited for her to explain further.
“My name is Kiela Orobidan. My parents lived here, and my mother’s parents before them. I was born here. We moved away when I was eight. Nine. But they never sold their cottage. It’s mine.”
“Ah.”
He wasn’t going to say more than that?
She saw a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced up at the rafters. Caz was there, draped around one of the cobweb-choked beams. He waved a tendril at her, and she exhaled.He’s okay. Just hiding.She wished she could have done that. “And you are?”
“Larran Maver. I live at the base of the cliff, near town. Noticed your boat in the cove and came to see who was using the old Orobidan cottage. Around here, we like to keep an eye out for each other.”
Outer islanders care for our own.She’d heard that dozens of times as a kid. This far away from the cities and the larger islands, they didn’t have much choice, but it was also a point of pride.
She supposed it was a reasonable explanation for why he was here. He couldn’t have known she’d be asleep on a dusty old daybed. She still didn’t like the way he filled the entire doorway, blocking the exit. “You mean you’re nosy.”
He smiled, and the expression transformed him from ordinary into stunningly handsome. It was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds over a stormy sea. She found herself smiling back without meaning to. As soon as she realized she was doing it, she frowned. “Sure,” Larran said, “that’s one word for it. We prefer neighborly, but ‘nosy’ is probably just as accurate.”
Still could be a murderer,she reminded herself. There was no law that said dangerous men couldn’t also be handsome. On the other hand, he hadn’t moved any closer since she’d screamed. In fact, in retrospect, he’d looked almost as spooked as she felt.
She was suddenly very aware that her hair was matted on one side, and her mouth tasted like peanuts. This wasn’t how she wanted to meet the neighbors. In fact, she’d been hoping to not meet them at all. It would have been simpler if she could’ve stayed unnoticed. Fewer variables; fewer problems. She wished he’d leave.
“What brings you back to Caltrey?” he asked.
Kiela considered a half-dozen answers, but she settled on the one that was simplest and required the least amount of reliving recent traumatic events. “I’d had enough of the city.”
