I favored him. Still, he had haunted my dreams last night in a strange way. Partial glimpses of his face dissolved and reappeared over and over again like a specter, appearing in shadows of deep forest, walls of crumbling ruins, and his eyes crackling in a fan of flames.
He followed wherever I went, searching me as if I had stolen a secret that belonged to him. They were disturbing dreams, not at all the kind I imagined Pauline had of Mikael. It could have been that my restless dreams were simply due to Berdi’s cooking, but this morning when I woke, my first thoughts were of him.
Pauline smiled and tied off my braid with a string of raffia. “The blackberries await Your Highness.”
* * *
As we saddled the braying trio, Kaden stepped out of the tavern. Berdi served simple fare in the morning—hard cheeses, boiled eggs, kippers, hot parritch, flat breads, and plenty of hot chicory to drink—all laid out on the sideboard. It was a simple serve-yourself meal, or a guest could pack it in a knapsack to go. No one went hungry at Berdi’s—not even mumpers or princesses who showed up on her back step.
I pulled Otto’s cinch and went on to check Nove’s as I stole glances at Kaden from under my lashes. Pauline cleared her throat like something was suddenly caught in it. I shot her a stern look. Her eyes rolled toward Kaden—who was now walking straight toward us. My mouth was suddenly dry, and I swallowed, trying to coax forth a little moisture. He wore a white shirt, and his boots crunched in the dirt as he approached.
“Morning, ladies. You’re off early.”
“As are you,” I answered.
We exchanged niceties, and he explained he was off to take care of some matters that might keep him several more days at the inn, though he didn’t say what the matters were.
“Are you a pelt trader as Gwyneth suggested?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Small animal skins. Usually I trade out of Piadro, but I’m hoping to find better prices up north. I commend your friend on her skilled observances.”
So I was wrong. He did trade in pelts. Impressions could be deceiving. “Yes,” I agreed. “Gwyneth is quite perceptive.”
He untied his horse from the rail. “I’m hoping that when I return this afternoon, a real room might be available.”
“It’s not likely until after the festival,” Pauline said. “But there might be a room at another inn in town.”
He paused as if he contemplated looking elsewhere, his eyes resting on me for several beats longer than was comfortable. In the brightness of day, his blond hair shone, and his deep brown eyes revealed more color, a striking spectrum of bronzed flecks, rich and warm like freshly tilled earth, but disquiet still lurked beneath the apparent calm. A short growth of stubble on his chin caught the morning sun, and I didn’t even realize I was studying his well-chiseled lips until an amused grin spread across them. I quickly returned my attention to Nove, feeling my cheeks blaze.
“I’ll stay here,” he answered.
“And your friend? Will he be staying as well?” I asked.
“I don’t know what his plans are, but I suspect his nose is too finicky for him to last long in a loft.” He bid his good-byes, and I watched him ride away on a horse as black as night, a strong wildish beast, even its breaths fearsome, as though a dragon lurked in its lineage. It was a beast that could splinter a stall and would never be mistaken for a broodmare. I smiled at the thought, wondering at the way Rafe had goaded him. They were an odd pair of friends.
When he was well out of sight, Pauline said, “So it’s Rafe.”
I swung up on Otto and didn’t answer. Today Pauline seemed to have woken up bent on bolstering relationships, first me and Berdi, and now me and … whoever. Was it because she so desperately wanted to fortify her own relationship with Mikael? I wasn’t prone to calling on the gods outside of the required rituals, but I
He followed wherever I went, searching me as if I had stolen a secret that belonged to him. They were disturbing dreams, not at all the kind I imagined Pauline had of Mikael. It could have been that my restless dreams were simply due to Berdi’s cooking, but this morning when I woke, my first thoughts were of him.
Pauline smiled and tied off my braid with a string of raffia. “The blackberries await Your Highness.”
* * *
As we saddled the braying trio, Kaden stepped out of the tavern. Berdi served simple fare in the morning—hard cheeses, boiled eggs, kippers, hot parritch, flat breads, and plenty of hot chicory to drink—all laid out on the sideboard. It was a simple serve-yourself meal, or a guest could pack it in a knapsack to go. No one went hungry at Berdi’s—not even mumpers or princesses who showed up on her back step.
I pulled Otto’s cinch and went on to check Nove’s as I stole glances at Kaden from under my lashes. Pauline cleared her throat like something was suddenly caught in it. I shot her a stern look. Her eyes rolled toward Kaden—who was now walking straight toward us. My mouth was suddenly dry, and I swallowed, trying to coax forth a little moisture. He wore a white shirt, and his boots crunched in the dirt as he approached.
“Morning, ladies. You’re off early.”
“As are you,” I answered.
We exchanged niceties, and he explained he was off to take care of some matters that might keep him several more days at the inn, though he didn’t say what the matters were.
“Are you a pelt trader as Gwyneth suggested?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Small animal skins. Usually I trade out of Piadro, but I’m hoping to find better prices up north. I commend your friend on her skilled observances.”
So I was wrong. He did trade in pelts. Impressions could be deceiving. “Yes,” I agreed. “Gwyneth is quite perceptive.”
He untied his horse from the rail. “I’m hoping that when I return this afternoon, a real room might be available.”
“It’s not likely until after the festival,” Pauline said. “But there might be a room at another inn in town.”
He paused as if he contemplated looking elsewhere, his eyes resting on me for several beats longer than was comfortable. In the brightness of day, his blond hair shone, and his deep brown eyes revealed more color, a striking spectrum of bronzed flecks, rich and warm like freshly tilled earth, but disquiet still lurked beneath the apparent calm. A short growth of stubble on his chin caught the morning sun, and I didn’t even realize I was studying his well-chiseled lips until an amused grin spread across them. I quickly returned my attention to Nove, feeling my cheeks blaze.
“I’ll stay here,” he answered.
“And your friend? Will he be staying as well?” I asked.
“I don’t know what his plans are, but I suspect his nose is too finicky for him to last long in a loft.” He bid his good-byes, and I watched him ride away on a horse as black as night, a strong wildish beast, even its breaths fearsome, as though a dragon lurked in its lineage. It was a beast that could splinter a stall and would never be mistaken for a broodmare. I smiled at the thought, wondering at the way Rafe had goaded him. They were an odd pair of friends.
When he was well out of sight, Pauline said, “So it’s Rafe.”
I swung up on Otto and didn’t answer. Today Pauline seemed to have woken up bent on bolstering relationships, first me and Berdi, and now me and … whoever. Was it because she so desperately wanted to fortify her own relationship with Mikael? I wasn’t prone to calling on the gods outside of the required rituals, but I
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