night as it is that he truly wants to assist me. And Odin help me, that thought isn’t at all unpleasant. But distractions are dangerous. Regardless, horseless and nearly copperless as I am, I am in no position to refuse him. “I couldn’t impose upon you,” I insist, not wanting to seem too easy.
“Nonsense. We half-elves should stick together,” he insists.
For several moments I stare deep into his startling blue eyes, searching for something in their depths. All I see is honesty and mirth. Deep down, I realize, I’m not ready to let him out of my sight. Finally, I ask in a guarded tone, “What would you require in return?”
Though it may be the noon sun, I swear I almost see his eyes twinkle. “Nothin’ but yer company, and perhaps help as a workout partner,” he says.
Trusting my instincts, for they have never led me astray, I nod and hook an arm in one of his. “Workout partner, huh? We’ll see if you can handle me,” I say.
He stiffens beside me and his eyes widen. Clearly the double meaning isn’t lost on him. I must admit, seeing him sweat is something I’m looking forward to.
We sit down to lunch in the packed barroom of a quaint little inn that boasts the finest roast deer in the land. I’m not sure if it’s all that, but it is tender and spicy. All through the meal, Grím listens to my every word as if he’s truly interested, and his eyes never wander to the barmaid whose breasts are nearly spilling out of her bustier. If he weren’t staring at me the entire time, I would almost have thought he didn’t prefer women.
Everyone in the barroom around us seems to be talking about the same thing. Apparently the contest is big news in this small town. No surprise there. We’re a ways inland, which means no excitement from the coast with ships coming and going.
“He killed a dragon you know,” a muscle-bound blond warrior at the table next to us says.
I lean over the table toward Grím and his eyes stray to my cleavage. “Is he talking about King Hildur?”
Grím nods, giving me a sheepish grin as he drags his eyes to my face.
Leaning back in my chair, I tell the man, “Actually I heard he made that story up to instill fear among his subjects.”
The man’s ice blue eyes narrow and his upper lip pulls up as if he finds me distasteful. He grunts at me and continues his tale as if I hadn’t spoken. One of his companions mumbles something about a ‘stupid half-elf’ and another makes a rude comment about a ‘woman playing with swords’. I nearly reach for the dagger at my side, but think better of it. Though he’s an ass, he isn’t the type I hunt. And I only kill those I hunt or those that hunt me.
Storm clouds seem to move across Grím’s eyes and he starts to rise. His teeth clench as he glares toward the table of men. I grab his wrist, my small hand barely making it halfway around. The gentle touch is enough to pull his attention back to me. He sits down slowly, but his eyes remain locked on the men.
As I’m finishing my spiced mutton, I hear the same man say, “They say he’ll hire anyone you know, even thieves and murderers.”
Grím’s eyes meet mine across the table, their weight heavy with thought. “Do ye care?” he asks.
I empty my ale mug before answering. “About what?” I really hope he doesn’t mean the men talking about me. If I cared about such things I would have driven myself mad years ago.
“If he hires murderers and thieves?” Grím asks in a careful tone.
“I’m counting on it,” I tell him, smiling as I do so.
He gives me a handsome smile in return and shakes his head as he pushes away from the table. “Ye’re a puzzle, Kyra,” he says.
Together we rise and leave the barroom to enter the bright sunshine outside. The sun is lower in the sky than I expect it to be; well past midday. Had I really got so caught up in those blue eyes and let him keep me talking that long?
“I mean it, a remarkable puzzle,” Grím says as we step into
“Nonsense. We half-elves should stick together,” he insists.
For several moments I stare deep into his startling blue eyes, searching for something in their depths. All I see is honesty and mirth. Deep down, I realize, I’m not ready to let him out of my sight. Finally, I ask in a guarded tone, “What would you require in return?”
Though it may be the noon sun, I swear I almost see his eyes twinkle. “Nothin’ but yer company, and perhaps help as a workout partner,” he says.
Trusting my instincts, for they have never led me astray, I nod and hook an arm in one of his. “Workout partner, huh? We’ll see if you can handle me,” I say.
He stiffens beside me and his eyes widen. Clearly the double meaning isn’t lost on him. I must admit, seeing him sweat is something I’m looking forward to.
We sit down to lunch in the packed barroom of a quaint little inn that boasts the finest roast deer in the land. I’m not sure if it’s all that, but it is tender and spicy. All through the meal, Grím listens to my every word as if he’s truly interested, and his eyes never wander to the barmaid whose breasts are nearly spilling out of her bustier. If he weren’t staring at me the entire time, I would almost have thought he didn’t prefer women.
Everyone in the barroom around us seems to be talking about the same thing. Apparently the contest is big news in this small town. No surprise there. We’re a ways inland, which means no excitement from the coast with ships coming and going.
“He killed a dragon you know,” a muscle-bound blond warrior at the table next to us says.
I lean over the table toward Grím and his eyes stray to my cleavage. “Is he talking about King Hildur?”
Grím nods, giving me a sheepish grin as he drags his eyes to my face.
Leaning back in my chair, I tell the man, “Actually I heard he made that story up to instill fear among his subjects.”
The man’s ice blue eyes narrow and his upper lip pulls up as if he finds me distasteful. He grunts at me and continues his tale as if I hadn’t spoken. One of his companions mumbles something about a ‘stupid half-elf’ and another makes a rude comment about a ‘woman playing with swords’. I nearly reach for the dagger at my side, but think better of it. Though he’s an ass, he isn’t the type I hunt. And I only kill those I hunt or those that hunt me.
Storm clouds seem to move across Grím’s eyes and he starts to rise. His teeth clench as he glares toward the table of men. I grab his wrist, my small hand barely making it halfway around. The gentle touch is enough to pull his attention back to me. He sits down slowly, but his eyes remain locked on the men.
As I’m finishing my spiced mutton, I hear the same man say, “They say he’ll hire anyone you know, even thieves and murderers.”
Grím’s eyes meet mine across the table, their weight heavy with thought. “Do ye care?” he asks.
I empty my ale mug before answering. “About what?” I really hope he doesn’t mean the men talking about me. If I cared about such things I would have driven myself mad years ago.
“If he hires murderers and thieves?” Grím asks in a careful tone.
“I’m counting on it,” I tell him, smiling as I do so.
He gives me a handsome smile in return and shakes his head as he pushes away from the table. “Ye’re a puzzle, Kyra,” he says.
Together we rise and leave the barroom to enter the bright sunshine outside. The sun is lower in the sky than I expect it to be; well past midday. Had I really got so caught up in those blue eyes and let him keep me talking that long?
“I mean it, a remarkable puzzle,” Grím says as we step into
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