Chapter 15
Rychell
Why can’t I switch off the way my body responds to Halvard?
It’s so annoying. The way his fingers felt on my body just now…
A pleasant shiver spreads down my legs. I can’t deny that a part of me longs to jump into bed, any bed, with the orc right this very instant and find out what Aila meant about chasing instincts, size, and stamina.
I swallow hard and try to keep from swooning like a fool.
With the reel concluded, we return to our table to finish our drinks and food. Halvard’s apple-green cheeks are as flushed as I’m sure mine are, and I need to think of something innocuous to say before this gets awkward.
“You won’t do anything outright to ruin my setup with Osric, will you?” I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Why did I ask that? I’m definitely making this awkward.
Shrugging, he says, “I am trying very hard not to. That’s my honest answer.
” He waves to the server to ask for another drink.
Leaning his elbows on the table, he comes close.
His eyes shine and his eyebrows lift as he sets his hot gaze on me.
“I can’t help that I’m attracted to you, Rychell.
Powerfully attracted. So attracted, in fact, that I can hardly think of anything other than your scent, your skin, your eyes, and your heart.
Being your bodyguard and your friend is anything but easy because I want to be your everything. ”
My lips part as I take in his words. Pulse leaping, I work hard to breathe evenly.
I can’t give in, no matter how lovely he talks.
Muscles and tendons lace his powerful forearms. The dusting of coppery hair on his arms has me imagining what his torso would look like without a tunic covering him up.
My mouth is as dry as a summer drought. Ergh! I have to get control of myself.
I clear my throat and lace my fingers together on the table top. “Well, once we get back to Leafshire Cove, you won’t have to deal with it anymore.”
He glances to the side of me, where a couple of young shifters are daring one another to take bubbling shots of something bright orange.
“But it’s a small town,” he says. “And I don’t want to give up our friendship.”
“Then you will have to stop firing those looks at me!” I clamp my mouth shut. I didn’t mean to say that either. The damned drinks loosened my tongue.
He wipes a hand over his mouth, covering what I’m fairly sure is a proud smirk. “I didn’t realize my fire was catching. I’ll be sure to keep it in check from now on.”
“You won’t. Stop lying.”
He laughs in full then, his head falling back and his throat moving. He is so stones-damned handsome.
“I’m not Cyrus,” he says when he finally stops guffawing. His friend and boss at the pub is, or was, the biggest playboy in the region. “And,” he continues, “I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want. You know that.”
“Pushing and tempting overlap a good bit when it comes to romance, wouldn’t you say?”
His eyebrow flicks upward, and his gaze slides from my face down to my chest and then back up again. My blood rushes through my veins like I have had a cup of very strong coffee.
“I would say. That’s why I mentioned that I was having a difficult time. But you let me know when I’m annoying or frustrating you, and I’ll stop, all right? I mean it. I won’t seduce you unless you ask very, very nicely.”
Heat pools low in my body, and my knees feel like pudding. I can barely take a full breath. I swallow and look into my empty cup.
“Sounds good,” I whisper, my throat too tight to speak properly.
Halvard’s chair creaks as he leans back. “One last thing. Do you believe Kaya and Cyrus will end up like your parents?”
“No, definitely not. But they’re an exception.”
“What about Rom and Laini? The mayor and his mate?” I swallow, and he lowers his head, tilting his chin to the side. “Rychell, love does work for some and you know that.”
The memory of shouting flits through my head. “Can we just enjoy the party?”
The heat of his gaze fades and he smiles kindly. “Your wish is my command.”
Pushing his words and my dark memories away, I relax and face the dancers out on the floor where another reel is starting up.
Halvard points to the table beside us, where folks are tying cloth around their heads. “Look, it must be the Blindfold Reel that Aila was talking about.”
“Why aren’t Magnus and Aila here?”
“Magnus said Aila likes to save her energy for actual Nocturne.”
The vampire author from the market walks up and raises a hand in greeting. “I’m Archer, remember?”
“Yes, of course,” Halvard says, standing and holding out a hand to shake Archer’s.
“You’re going to join in, right?” Archer asks, his gaze going to the dancers lining up.
I nod. I feel silly, but I don’t want to be a stick in the mud. I withdraw the velvet cloth that Aila gave me and knot it at the back of my head. I laugh and lift one side to peek at Halvard. He has his blindfold on, but he has it pushed up over his eyebrows.
We follow what everyone else is doing, making four small sets of lines. The line I’m in is shorter, and it seems that I have two dancing partners across from me, one of whom is Halvard. I look to the female pixie beside me. She’s laughing at something the male pixie across from her is saying.
“May I ask you a question?” She nods, and I go on. “Is this some sort of triangle form like the High Tide Reel?”
“Exactly! But you won’t know which partner you’re with, and you can switch if you’re fast. Your partners won’t know it. It is chaotic, but very fun. Don’t forget,” she says, eyeing Halvard, “it’s take and turn, then lift and spin, then apart, then do it all over again.”
“Thank you,” he says.
I trade a skeptical look with Halvard, who shrugs and grins. Archer waves at us from across the floor. Halvard and I pull our cloth strips into place over our eyes.
The music starts up in full, the lilting notes of the lyre and pipe bright and loud. Everyone is laughing at how ridiculous it is to dance with blindfolds on—it’s definitely chaotic, but also fun. Someone takes my hand. It’s Halvard.
The stark difference between the ruthless strength of his hands—as I saw them during the fight with the thieves on our journey here—and the sweet touch of his hold on me has goosebumps lifting all over my body.
Those talented hands, easily twice the size of mine, slide to my waist, and then he lifts me.
I gasp as he spins me around, even though I knew that was the next move.
We break apart as the reel requires, and someone new takes my hands. Their fingers are thinner, but pleasant enough.
“You smell like cinnamon,” the stranger says as he spins me.
“I’m a spice merchant.”
“It’s a lovely scent.”
I brace for the lift that never comes. Suddenly, my second partner’s hold is replaced by Halvard’s hands on my waist again.
“Was your second partner that bad?” I ask, snickering as he lifts me high.
“So bad. And I don’t like how that partner of yours was sniffing at you like a dog.”
“You heard that?”
“Orcs are superior in many ways. One of which is hearing.”
I have the urge to roll my eyes, which is hard to do behind a blindfold, so instead I huff at him. “So arrogant.”
“It’s not arrogance. It’s science.”
I laugh and pinch his arm. His muscles tense, and he chuckles as we break apart for the third partner switch.
But we don’t switch, and I have no complaints.
I’d rather not have to make small talk with strangers.
Halvard and I dance the pattern of movements with easy shifts of weight and touch.
At the crescendo end of the song, his hand lingers on mine, his thumb tracing a scar on the outer edge of my thumb, near my palm.
“What’s that from?” he asks.
Everyone cheers as the reel ends. They tear off their blindfolds and toss them into the air. We do the same. The colors of Nocturne surround us like a magical storm, and I can’t help but grin in wonder at this gathering. The excitement of those around me is infectious, and I feel light and free.
Halvard nods toward the table, and we head back together.
“The scar,” I say, finally answering him, “it’s from cutting ginger root. I had trouble when I was first learning preparation skills.”
“Whoever stitched you up did a terrible job.”
I touch the uneven skin and laugh. “That was me too.”
“You sewed up your own wound?”
“I’m ambidextrous, so I’m good with both hands,” I say.
“Fascinating. I’ve never met someone with that ability.”
I remember the blood welling and the way I compartmentalized the pain and panic to fix the problem myself. “I was determined not to visit the healer.”
“Because you were worried about the pain of stitching?”
I shake my head. “Because I didn’t have a coin to my name.”
He gives me a wry grin. “I know how that feels. How long ago was that?”
“About eight years.”
The servers bring out trays of Nocturne sweets—sweet rolls with clove and cinnamon, maple syrup candies in the shape of dusk hollows, and small cauldrons filled with spun sugar that’s been flavored with oranges and lavender.
I chew my lip and look down at the array of treats the servers have set on our table. “This is a lot.”
Halvard’s eyes are shining as he rubs his hands together. “I’d say for festival season, it’s just right.”
I grab a sweet roll and bite into the soft warmth. It’s the perfect level of chewy.
Halvard has frozen and is staring at my mouth. He blinks and focuses on the treats. Lifting a hard candy to the flickering pillar candle in the center of our table, he studies the little shape.
“Is it a ghost?” he asks.
“I think so.”
He nods and pops it into his mouth. “Not bad,” he says around the candy, the gold ring in his lip sparkling in the candlelight.
We eat sweets until we’re both complaining about our stomachs and begging servers for water.
Laughing at ourselves, we leave the party and begin the short walk to the inn.
The cresent sliver of the moon is bright in the starry sky; only a few clouds like spirits dance across the expanse of night.
The air smells like sugar, trees heading into their seasonal rest, and the salt of the sea.
I have the urge to take Halvard’s hand, and it’s so strong a pull that I tuck my hands into my pockets.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” he asks as a few shrub gryphons fly past.
“I’m meeting Osric for morning tea, remember? He’s going to show me around his office and warehouse here by the docks.”
“Sounds good,” he says, sounding like he feels exactly the opposite.
“You don’t need to come.” I should ask him directly not to join us, but honestly, I kind of want him there. The main part of town is fine, but by the water, well, I’ve heard stories that I want no part of. Halvard’s mention of danger yesterday reminded me of those tales.
“I most certainly do. Don’t worry. You won’t even know I’m there. I’ll have breakfast with Magnus, then catch up before you aim for the waterside.”
“All right.”
When we get to the inn, a cacophony of yelling and cursing pours from the windows.
Then I notice the smoke.
Black clouds plume from the back of the building. Halvard grabs my hand, and we rush around back. The kitchen’s outer wall is consumed in flame, and the innkeeper is shouting orders.
“Alert the fire brigade! Tell them to sound the alarm!”
But everyone runs this way and that. They don’t even seem to hear the panicked innkeeper as they try to put the fire out with damp linen towels and small buckets of water.
Halvard releases me and puts his fingers to his lips. A whistle breaks from his lips, and every head turns toward him.
“You there,” he says in a very commanding orc voice that no one would dare ignore, “you in the red tunic, you go to the fire brigade. You,” he says, pointing to a pixie in brown trousers, “head to the tower and get them to sound the bell. Everyone else, find a bucket and line up here.”
I grab a large soup pot and line up beside a few serving lads.
Soon, we have a line going from a well behind the building into the half-destroyed kitchen.
The person nearest the well fills a bucket and passes it along until it’s dumped onto the fire by the last person.
Halvard and the innkeeper are draping water-doused bathing sheets onto the areas where the flames are out but still smoking.
After an hour of fighting the fire, my lungs burn, and I cough. Halvard turns from his work, face streaked with soot.
“Get out of here,” he calls out to me.
“Not until it’s under control.”
“Human lungs are weak. We monsters can handle this.”
I ignore him, take the next container of water handed to me, and give it to the goblin beside me. Smoke blocks my view of Halvard.
My eyes blur with tears, and my hands are shaking.
The next thing I know, I’m falling into big, warm arms, and the world is going dark.