Chapter 17 #2
With Danik, there was something different.
It wasn’t that his body was particularly muscular, though he was certainly much larger in the chest than she’d anticipated.
Veru had always considered him to be on the thin and lanky side, but perhaps that was more due to her having seen him through the eyes of a tiger.
Any man would look small when compared to a tiger.
Where the copper tub had been sufficient to hold her legs and allow her to clean her body, it barely contained him.
His long legs hung over the sides, giving her a good view of his heavy thighs.
Her gaze traveled back up those legs to the dark water hiding the bits of him she couldn’t see but was somehow very curious to, and her lips parted.
Veru jumped when the bucket moved against her hand, and her eyes locked with a set of stormy ocean-blue ones.
She was suddenly very aware she was as naked as Danik.
As she tried to leave, he refused to let go of the pail.
Once again, she felt as if she were caught in a trap, but this time she had stepped into it willingly.
She could let go and hop out of the pit anytime, but there was something about this hunter; it was his voice or perhaps the way he looked at her.
She kept circling him, getting closer and closer.
Instinct told her it would be the death of one or both of them.
Veru could almost feel the snarl of the cat tickle her throat and the claws curl her fingers.
She narrowed her eyes, preparing to pounce.
Quietly, not in his musical or soothing tones, but in a voice of warning, he said, “I am not a piece of string for you to play with, little kotenok.” He let go of the bucket, and she faltered back a few steps.
The blanket fell into place, shielding him from view.
She stood there, silent, thinking about what he’d said.
Then she heard him speak again. It was almost a whisper.
She could hear the sorrow in his tone. It reminded her of when he had to kill an animal.
“When a string breaks, the instrument can no longer be played.”
Veru didn’t understand. Danik thought . .
. he thought she meant to injure him? Does he fear me?
If so, why? He had called her kotenok. Perhaps he was remembering her time as a tiger.
Veru had frightened off many a man in the past, that much was true.
She was formidable, even deadly, when brandishing her knives, but Danik had never seen that.
Or maybe she had it wrong. Maybe he thought he was going to hurt her, like he did the animals he hunted.
Whichever one it was, it was clear he wanted Veru to keep away from him.
Whether it was to protect himself or her, she didn’t know.
It was even possible that Danik didn’t know the reason, or didn’t remember it, but Veru didn’t think that was the case.
He seemed pretty certain about his feelings. If only Veru felt as sure of her own.
Turning, she said, “I-I’ll bring you some more water.”
She hurried to ladle hot water into the bucket, adding only a bit of cold, and slid it next to his tub without another word, then sat in her chair finger-combing her wet hair, wishing for a hairbrush as hot tears slid down her face.
She had meant it when she’d called him her companion.
He was more of a true companion to her than Nik or even her sister had been in a long time.
Danik’s quiet ways were soothing. He was kind and gentle.
But perhaps her perspective had been tainted by a cat’s perspective.
Maxsim climbed in her lap and began to purr, making her wonder what his feline view of her might look like.
What did he see when he glanced in her direction?
A weepy, bedraggled woman? A tsarevna trying to do her best to keep herself and her hunter alive?
Did he see the missing cat she’d lost? Could he know where her tiger was? How Veru could find her again?
Veru didn’t speak to Danik again that night, choosing instead to curl up in her blanket in her chair while petting Max and trying to sleep. She kept her back turned to her traveling companion. But even when his peaceful snores filled the little home, rest still eluded her.
* * *
The next morning it was Danik who woke her.
Veru had a beast of a headache. Her eyes felt sticky, and it was painfully obvious to her that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath her blanket.
Her traveling companion, however, appeared to be in the best of spirits.
He was dressed in the same clothing he’d worn the day before and somehow looked refreshed despite the fact.
“Here,” he said. “Eat up. You’ve got visitors.”
“What?” Veru said, rubbing her eyes and adjusting her blanket as she took the bowl of leftover porridge. “Who?”
“Your admirers are here, and they’re bearing gifts. I took the liberty of bringing in this bundle now. I thought you could use it. Your other dress is washed and hanging on the line outside. I’ll leave you here to change in peace.”
Danik headed toward the secret cupboard door that led to the summer porch but turned before shutting it behind him. “There’s a fresh bucket of hot water by your chair with some soap and a clean cloth. See you outside.”
Veru nodded her thanks from the depths of her blanket but doubted he could see the slight movement.
The door closed behind him with a snick, and she hurried to inspect the bundle of fabric he’d left her.
It was a new skirt and blouse, leggings, a knitted sweater, and the finest pair of stockings and boots she’d ever seen.
When she lifted the skirt, the most delicate undergarments fell onto the chair as well.
They looked to be made of butterfly wings and were embroidered with pink flowers.
Usually, Veru rejected such feminine wares, preferring the standard undergarments worn by soldiers.
They were durable and warm. These would hardly serve a purpose, as scanty as they were, and yet knowing they were a gift from the grateful townspeople, she took the time to run her fingertips across the embroidery and admired the craft and the effort it took to create something so lovely.
Dropping the heavy blanket, she washed quickly and donned the slips of fabric and found she quite liked the way they molded to her body.
The stockings were warm but smooth and silky and attached to the undergarments with tiny buttons.
It was quite cleverly done. The skirt and blouse were heavy but well-made and fit her perfectly, and the sweater was as soft as a newborn lamb.
The ribbons that tied it around her shoulders could be easily untied so when she was overwarm she could hang it nearby.
Since she couldn’t brush her wild hair, she let it hang loose, then ate a few bites of breakfast, leaving the rest to Maxsim, and headed outside, excited to see what the new day would bring.
Veru opened the door to find Danik with his arms full of wood.
It was stacked so high that it covered his face.
“Do you need some help?” Veru asked cheerfully.
“No. There’s quite a line waiting to see you.
Go meet with them, and I’ll get to work on the house like I promised.
It feels good to remember what I wanted to do today—seems I’m able to remember the things that are happening here, just nothing from the past. Maybe it’s the magic of the house that’s helping. ”
“Oh. Yes. Maybe.” Veru stood there fidgeting for a moment with her hands. “Okay. But don’t you think I should be in there helping you? Yuga did ask me to clean, you know.”
“And you have. This is different. I’m not cleaning, really. I’m . . . restoring. That’s different. You need to be doing the work with the people. You’re good at it. I’ll just be in the way. Now this load of wood is heavy. I’m heading in. Do skoroy vstrechi.”
“Yes. Well . . . have a good day, then. With the house, I mean. Do skoroy vstrechi.”
“You as well.”
“Let me hold the door for you.”
“Spasibo.”
When he disappeared inside, Veru shut the door behind him and felt disappointed that he didn’t want to spend the day with her.
She tried to justify his desertion by telling herself that he was simply keeping his promise and not angry with her.
Then she shook her head, wondering why she was acting like such a fool.
She was a tsarevna, a spy, a soldier, and, until recently, a tiger.
Verusha Irena Vasilia Stepanov didn’t moon after men.
Or weep when they didn’t shower her with flowers, chocolates, and affection.
If Danik Andronovich desired a relationship of any kind with her, then he should be so lucky.
And if he didn’t . . . then so be it. She would seek friendship and perhaps other things . . . elsewhere.
Just then she heard a neigh, and the white-clad knight, Zarya, appeared. She gave a shout and raised a hand in greeting. He returned it and galloped up to the porch, then removed his helmet.
“Privet, my lady.”
“Dobroye utro, Zarya. How do you fare today?” Veru asked, ducking just in time as his horse lifted his head to blast a golden-white pillar of flame in the air.
“I am well this morning. I wish to give my thanks.”
“Thanks? For what?”
“For helping my people. You gave them guidance when I could not.”
“It was nothing.”
“It was not nothing. You showed you cared about them. You listened to them. You thought about their problems and made them your own. You prioritized them, worrying about them more than yourself. It’s what a leader does. I wish to give you a token as a sign of my appreciation and gratitude.”
“Really, it’s not necessary.”
“But it is.” The knight lifted his leg from his horse and slid down, then reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a wooden-handled tool.
After he set it into her hands, she touched a fingertip to the sharp barbs on the comb end.
At first glance she thought he’d given her a brush, which she could’ve sorely used, but she quickly realized this wasn’t a hairbrush.
“What is it?” she asked. “It looks like something the weavers use, but I’ve never seen one quite like this before.”
“You’re right—it is used for weaving. It’s called a spinning hatchel.”
“Is it for wool or flax?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s for wool, flax, reeds, vines, hair, moss, leaves, or just about anything you can think of.”
“What?”
“It’s a magic hatchel. It spins whatever you place into it. If you can conjure it, the hatchel can spin it. But I’ll warn you—it is only to be used to create things of beauty. If you try to use it to make something deadly or dark, it will disappear. This gift is a gift of light.”
“It’s like you and your horse,” Veru said.
The knight smiled. “That’s right.”
“I wish I had a gift of equal measure to bestow upon you.” Her face brightened then. “Can I use it to spin a way to free you?”
Zarya shook his head sadly. “There is no spun magic strong enough to counter Yuga’s chains, little one. But take heart—there is still hope for you and your man.”
Veru gave the knight a smile. “Perhaps. Shall we go and see to your people, then?”
He nodded, and he and Veru spent the day greeting the people who came to see her.
Many returned who’d left early before, hoping to hear some of her wisdom and perhaps get a little food and a bit of the water the others had managed to receive.
Veru willingly shared what she could and matched up many people who needed help.
Other visitors came bearing gifts. Veru was surprised to realize that many weeks had passed in their time, though it had only been a day for her and Danik.
The young girl looking for a husband had indeed found one, and she was more than a month pregnant with a doting mother-in-law.
The family with the sick child was holding out hope thanks to a promising new treatment the new doctor was trying.
In addition to the new clothing, Veru was gifted with a newborn calf, baskets of fruits and vegetables, bundles of wool, bales of hay, and even a basketful of combs, hairbrushes, and hand-carved hair accessories.
Each gift was received with great praise for the work and even hugs for the women.
Two of the women even came forward shyly, clucking at Veru’s hair, and began swiftly combing and braiding it for her as she sat talking with visitors.
Never had she enjoyed diplomatic meetings as much as she did with those simple people.
When the day was nearly over, and everyone set out for home, Veru said farewell to her white knight and asked if she would see him again the next day.
He surprised her when he said no; it would be his brother coming to visit her next, if she was indeed allowed to return at all to their summer haven.
When he bowed and took her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles, Veru felt emotional.
She put her hand on his head and said, “Bless you, good knight. If there is a way to save you, I vow I will do my utmost.”
“Spasibo, my dear, dear lady,” he said. With that, he clicked his heels, mounted his horse, spun, and rode off into the sunset.
Veru dashed the tears from her cheeks and turned toward the door on the summer porch, but standing in it, framed in its light, was Danik, who stared at her with the strangest expression. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was grinding his teeth. Her normally easygoing, sweet-natured friend was livid.