Page 10 of Betrothed

“I do not know how much mortals eat,” Zax continued. “Is this enough?”

He placed the food on the table. Berries rolled over the surface, and he placed a hand on the wood to stop them from rolling off.

“I will find a bowl,” he promised.

Fawn stared at him. He somehow felt like he was doing something wrong, given how confused she was. But her expression cleared, even if she still smelled of fear.

“This is more than enough,” she said, tugging her coat tighter around her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“I can carry you to the table,” he offered.

“No, no. I can do it.” Fawn gripped a tree trunk sprouting out of the wall and heaved herself up. She then hopped over to the table, using the wall to steady herself when she could not stand on her injured ankle.

“There is no bread,” Zax continued as she reached the table. “But I can learn to make it. And I will make a fire pit below us. And my brother taught me how to make ‘jerky.’ Since mortals eat so little of an animal before it sours.”

“Thank you,” Fawn said again. She picked up a berry, rolling it between her fingers cautiously.

Zax watched her, his distress growing with each second that she did not eat. Was it not a good breakfast? He had seen his brothers’ wives eat this food. It was usually on plates, but he did not have any of those yet. Plates, bowls, a fire pit for faster cooking—he thought he was ready for a wife. Apparently, he was lacking.

“Do you want to come hunting with me next time?” Zax asked. “Or when you’re healed?”

Fawn placed the berry back down and gave him another confused look. “To… carry your kills?”

“No,” he said. “To hunt! Mortals are weak, but that is why you made weapons.”

He waited for her to tell him what weapon she used for hunting. Whether she liked to do it from far away, with a bow, or up close, like him. Maybe she enjoyed the chase. That could be something they had in common. He sorely wished to have something in common with his wife.

But Fawn only stared at him some more. “You want me to hunt with you?”

“When you are healed,” Zax said. Then, when she looked even more confused, “Do you not enjoy it?”

“I’ve never hunted,” Fawn admitted. “Only prepared animals after they were killed.”

“Oh,” Zax said. That was much less exciting. “Do you enjoy that?”

He meant for it to lead into an offer—she could prepare his next kill, if she wished. But Fawn looked at him in the same way she kept looking at him whenever he asked a question: like she did not understand why he was asking it in the first place.

“I—” Fawn began. She looked down at the table, where the deer leg was gently steaming. “I don’t know. It needs to be done.”

She hesitated, then placed a berry in her mouth.

“They’re not poisonous to mortals,” Zax said excitedly. “I checked.”

“I know, I picked these same berries the other day,” Fawn replied. Then she looked up at him, her eyes wide and wary. “I mean, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Why do you not hunt?” Zax asked, eager to get the worry out of her scent. “Do you not like it?”

“I’ve just never done it. Hunting is man’s work.”

“Oh,” Zax said. He stopped to think of the mortals he had spotted hunting in the woods. He was sure he had spotted some women among them. Maybe it was different depending on the place. “Why?”

“Women are meant for some things. Men do others.” Fawn ate another berry with a curious look on her face, like she had never had to explain this before. “They say women are too weak.”

“All mortals are weak,” Zax said. Then he amended, “Compared to a Skullstalker. As I said, that is why you make weapons.”

This did not seem to comfort her.

“You tried to stab me after I killed your husband!” Zax pointed out. “That was not weak.”