CHAPTER FORTY-TWO #2
“It was on that third day we crossed paths. You were nearly crushed beneath a mountain of bread. Your face was covered, but I knew it had to be you from the moment I…”
It was clearly difficult for her to speak to me so candidly, and because of that, I waited, hands folded in my lap, her pile of clothes all but forgotten.
Finally, and with an effortful swallow that bobbed her whole throat, she admitted, “From the moment I scented you.” She seemed to perceive my confusion from across the room, and quickly added, “Keen sense of smell. A trait that wasn’t dampened by the curse, praise Naeno.”
The words were escaping my mouth before I had a chance to contain them. “And what do I smell like?”
It was Vayen’s turn to bite into her lower lip, directly in its center.
I knew then I wouldn’t be on the receiving end of that answer, at least not today.
She turned her chin more towards the window, away from me, and I could no longer see her expression.
As though I hadn’t spoken at all, she continued, “It wasn’t until that night, when I saw you on the balcony with that bastard Hollow, that I nearly phased.
If it weren’t for the King’s Scholar, the three of us would likely be dead. ”
I blinked, certain that I must have misheard her. “Scholar Bjorn? What could he possibly—”
“He was able to stop me from phasing,” Vayen said, raised brows indicative of her own surprise. “I don’t remember myself, but the way Winnie tells it, he placed a palm on my head and I went slack. Dead to the world.”
Well, that sprouted more questions than it answered.
Scholar Bjorn was full of surprises—but so too was Vayen.
Two times I had been assaulted in recent memory, and both of them she had witnessed.
I couldn’t imagine she hadn’t seen or heard a woman attacked before.
Could that really mean she was right, and it was my presence that loosened her curse’s lock?
I wiped the thought from my mind the moment it arrived, quite certain that even if it were the truth, I had little interest in acknowledging it.
Instead, I focused on her plight, disinterested in reliving my own.
“It’s rather fortunate he knew what to do, then.”
“Indeed. There are exactly two groups of people who can never know that I’m able to phase: the Hollows, and Gavner’s lot. Which is why I tried to keep you away from the blood pit by locking you in your tavern room—another of the things I must apologize for.”
I sucked in a dramatic inhale, all thoughts of curses and wolves cast aside for the indignation I felt towards her in that very moment. “You’re the one!”
“Surprised you hadn’t figured that out by now,” Vayen mumbled, prompting an insulted scoff from me.
“Surprised you hadn’t come up with a better idea in the first place,” I quipped back, standing so that I could begin folding her clothes again, albeit with less care than I had before. “I climbed out the window, you know. I imagine you hadn’t thought I was capable of such a thing.”
“I wrongly assumed that you would be a good girl and stay in your room.” Vayen’s tilted head was all chastisement.
“I’m not a child,” I said, wielding a sour expression that probably looked every bit the petulant youth I was claiming not to be. “If you were so desperate to keep me away, why didn’t you just blow some lullawort in my face? That’s your specialty, isn’t it?”
“Lullawort is a last resort, and I’ve already apologized for that.”
I danced my head from side to side as I mimicked her, “Lullawort is a last resort.”
“Remind me who’s not a child again?”
But a smile was pulling at her lips just the same as it was pulling at mine, and I was helpless against the small laugh that escaped me.
I folded her trousers like that, quite enjoying the levity of the moment, when a bit of raised fabric caught the pad of my thumb.
I peered down at it to see a glyph sewn into the inside of the cloth.
“You had glyphs sewn into your clothes? Why?”
“To avoid stunning you with my nakedness when you’ve yet to ask for it,” Vayen replied, the corner of her lip indenting.
I rolled my eyes with a shake of my head. The word incorrigible came to mind, but I wouldn’t quip back, not when I stood very near the spot where she’d undressed at my provocation a few nights prior.
“Truly,” she said, joining me at the foot of the bed and flattening her pants. “There are a few workarounds for keeping one’s clothes when phasing from wolf to human, and fortunately for us both, rootcraft is one of them.”
“Haize can be trusted, then?”
“With certain things. He owes me more than one life-saving favor, so I had him modify these while you were still sleeping.”
“Ah,” I managed to say, trying very hard not to imagine a pack of Moonkin phasing into human form only to be surrounded by a sea of nudity. But it was the next thought that prompted me to tap my chin knowingly. “That’s why your clothes didn’t fit you!”
“Quite right.” Vayen dipped her head in approval, and I returned the gesture in kind. “Unfortunately for everyone involved, I had to relieve some of the bandits of their clothes—the ones that hadn’t been ripped to shreds. Didn’t much feel like bringing you back to Cobble Crossing in the nude.”
“I envy no one in that situation,” I muttered.
Without sparing a glance her way, I trained my voice into something airy and inquisitive, as though it were merely an afterthought.
“Is it safe to return to Grenythwood? Or might there be more bandits?” It was roundabout, the way I asked whether or not she truly intended to bring me home, but it felt safer.
“I imagine their corpses have been discovered by now, and whatever poor soul had to witness the state I left them in… well, I doubt anyone is going to be bothering us for a while yet. And if they do, you have my word that the full power of my imbuement will be at your disposal.”
The full power of her imbuement. Wielded for me. The very thought was stirring, a pool of warmth dripping down my spine unbidden, unwanted.
I bit my lip, refocusing on the glyphed shirt I was nearly through folding.
She had all but confirmed that we were going back to Grenythwood Village.
That I was no longer her captive. That I would no longer be bound by her.
Yet my mind tripped instead on the tone of her voice, the sincere way she proclaimed that I was under her protection.
This must be what going mad feels like.
“Thank you,” I managed, swallowing thickly. It was the first time all morning I’d been able to breathe deeply, and that was where my focus should have been. Not on Vayen and her proclamations, no matter how rousing they were.
“This is neither here nor there,” Vayen said, pulling me from my thoughts, “but how much practice have you had folding clothes?” She placed her hand atop the pants she’d folded, which were far more uniform in their placement than mine.
“…Not a lot,” I admitted with crossed arms, indignation mounting quickly. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m glad to hear that, as you’re completely rotten at it. These fell to the floor in a neater stack than you’ve just put them in.”
I scoffed, though the humor I felt quirking my lips undoubtedly softened its edge. “You’re awful! I was only trying to help.”
“I appreciate the attempt, but you should probably stick to your strengths next time. I can only imagine the state Catrin found your clothes in. I’ll have to give her a talking to; can’t be keeping such great teasing fodder from me, the wench.”
I swatted Vayen’s arm before picking up the shirts I’d folded and tossing them at her chest. She caught them easily, a tired but full smile spreading across her face.
“You’re terrible,” I said, ignoring the squeezing of my heart. “Absolutely terrible.”
We descended the tavern’s staircase, Vayen’s shoulders weighed down by the oversized saddlebags only a horse as large as Rummy could wear comfortably.
She had insisted on carrying both of the bags, an offer I was grateful I’d accepted, given that she hadn’t broken a sweat during our lengthy descent—a claim I could not make for myself.
I cleared my throat, lips pressed firmly together to ensure a composed expression would not betray the slight ache in my thigh or the tightness in my calves.
“Are you all right?” Vayen asked, concern pinching her features.
“I am.”
“You’re sure?”
“I promise. You might not believe it, but I can’t wait to mount Rummy and be on our way home.”
Vayen loosed a humored huff. She led us to the bar, eyeing me briefly before settling her gaze on the door to the kitchens. “Rummy’ll be thrilled you’ve taken to him.”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far. In any case, his only competition for pleasant travel companion is you, so he has an unfair advantage.”
Vayen sucked in a breath, all feigned hurt and incredulity. “You wound me.”
“My deepest sympathies,” I said, eyes rolling starward.
A strand of pale hair had already escaped my loose braid, and I tucked it behind my ear as I leaned against the bar to assess the common area.
Even in the daytime, it was positively gloomy without any windows.
The shadows of the room stretched at odd angles, summoned by the weak candlelight of the rusted sconces, fashioning the space with an amber glow that could either be ominous or romantic, depending on your perspective.
I could feel Vayen’s eyes on me, perceptive and probing.
I didn’t blame her, given how decidedly strange the situation was.
For there I stood, leaning up against a glyph-covered bar, my wrists unbound and healed thanks to wolf Vayen’s licks.
Not only that, but I was beside the woman who had kidnapped me, now professing promises of my safety and the protection she afforded me.
And, as if the aforementioned was not sweet enough in its oddity, my mood was light, surprising even me given all that had happened.