Chapter Fifteen #3
Daemon looks down at me. “You definitely need to stay away from fae wine in the future.”
“Are you saying I’m drunk? I’ll have you know I can hold my liquor perfectly fine.”
“Is that a fact? Hang out in many taverns, do you?”
We reach the river, and Daemon leads us onto the stone bridge. He pauses in the middle, and we lean against the walls of the bridge watching the water rush by. Daemon keeps his arm looped around mine.
“I could drink this entire river of fae wine,” I say with a giggle.
“Even I would be drunk if I drank that much.”
“Do you want to have a contest?”
A laugh. I love how it rumbles against me. “Maybe another time.”
“You’re afraid I’ll best you.”
“Perhaps I am.” Daemon stares out over the water but flicks his gaze to mine. “How did you become a blacksmith, anyway?”
I shrug. “I needed to eat. And I wasn’t afraid of the fire.”
“I didn’t realize blacksmithing was a common practice for human women.”
“It isn’t.” I let out a snort. “I always pretended I was a man. Much safer that way.”
Daemon’s eyes hold mine. “I can’t imagine how you ever pulled that off.”
“I pulled my hair back and bound my chest. Not hard.”
He makes a sound of disbelief and shakes his head. “Human men are apparently extremely unobservant.”
“Oh, yes. Incredibly unobservant.” I straighten, pushing away from the bridge. “But, look though, look.” I pull my hair back tight around my head and pivot from side to side. “See? It was a good disguise.”
Daemon rolls his eyes. “Oh, yes, the most clever of disguises.”
I frown and let my hair back down, which now is tousled and messy. “Don’t tease.”
Slowly, he reaches up and runs a finger along the strands of flame-colored hair on the left side of my face. “I’m not teasing you, Embyr. I’m saying that anyone who thinks you’re a man is a fool.”
“Oh.” Heat flushes my cheeks, and I hope he can’t see in the moonlight.
“Let’s find your friends, shall we?” Daemon says, taking my arm and guiding me back off the bridge.
We stroll through the gardens and the edge of the forest, then back over the river going in the other direction. Daemon asks about my life before I came here, and I tell him everything. Everything back to the point that I can’t remember.
“So, your first memory is from age fourteen?” he asks.
I nod. “I woke up one night and…and nothing. I have no clue where I came from or who I am.”
“That must have been really frightening,” he says, his voice soft.
“I’ve been through worse since. What about you? What was your life like?” Seeing the way his expression instantly becomes guarded, I add, “And don’t say that’s a story for another night.”
“Ahh, but it’s a very long story, and I’m not sure we have enough time…”
I’m distracted by the sudden reappearance of the castle lights in the distance. “Hey! I thought we were going to find my friends.”
Daemon shrugs. “Well, we looked, and we did not find them. Perhaps you should get some rest. The moon is high in the sky.”
“I am not sleeping in that infernal castle,” I growl, turning and trying to tug him back in the opposite direction. “Let’s go find more wine!”
A chuckle. “I am quite certain that’s a very bad idea.”
“Which is exactly why we should do it…”
“If I bring you more wine in your room, will you sleep there?”
I shake my head. “No. But you know a nice place to sleep?”
He raises his brows in a question.
“The barn.”
“With the horses?” His tone is dubious.
“Yes, horses make the cutest sounds…”
“Naturally…”
“I feel like you don’t believe me. Come on, I’m going to show you.” I take Daemon’s hand in mine, and I tug him toward the castle.
We come out of the gardens on the side of the river far north of the sparring fields where the ball is being held, and then circle around on a path that leads behind all the buildings near the castle.
Eventually, when the moon is directly overhead, we reach the barn.
When we walk inside, we’re instantly greeted by soft snorts, the stomping of hooves, and the chewing of hay.
“Shhh… listen. Do you hear it?”
After several long moments, Daemon looks down at me with a small smile. “I do.”
I tug him further down the aisle of the barn.
Moonlight comes in stripes from the cupola and skylights above.
Toward the end of the barn, there’s a wooden ladder that leads up into the hay loft overhead.
I grab the sides of it and start to climb, but the world spins again and I stumble sideways off of it into Daemon’s arms.
“Damn feet…”
“Tricky, tricky feet,” he murmurs in my ear.
“I’m very sleepy. I’m going to sleep here. It’s my favorite place.”
“I can see why,” he says, and this time he doesn’t sound like he’s teasing me.
I stagger forward into an alcove behind the ladder piled with extra bales of hay and flop down on the nearest one. “This is nice.”
Daemon follows me, taking off his cloak and spreading it on the adjacent bale. “This one is better, I think.”
I crawl over to that one and bury my face in the soft velvet of his cloak, breathing in his scent. “Mmm, yes.”
The last thing I see as I look up is Daemon sitting cross-legged next to me, his face illuminated in moonlight, his eyes the green of sea glass.
“Goodnight, little blacksmith.” His voice is deep and rumbles against me like thunder in the summer. And then sleep takes me.