4. Bloom
BLOOM
Istare up at the slats in the ceiling and let out a sigh.
With my ankle propped up on a pillow, the cool breeze from the open window teases my skin through the thin shift. This bed is more comfortable than my one back home. It’s also double the size—fit for a male of Rhydian’s size.
Rhydian. He is the reason for my stirring after only a few hours of sleep.
It is still dark out, but the pitch back has begun to fade.
My mind swirls as I test my toes. The pain is gone from my ankle, as is the stinging in my knees.
I had removed the bandages shortly after I woke to find the skin good as new.
The Minotaur of Dew Hollow must possess magic. It is the only explanation for my rapidly healed state. Why does the discovery not shock me? Why is the only apprehension I’ve felt in his presence when he brandished the knife to cut my boot off? The wariness quickly faded.
The moment he tended to my wounds, I felt safe and cared for.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve shouldered both my father's and my burdens. It had been nice to let my guard down and be taken care of for once. Rhydian was not as we believed. He was gentle and kind.
A little gruff, but I don’t think he gets many visitors. In fact, I’m beginning to think he hasn’t seen anyone for a long time.
Rhydian isn’t the fearsome creature we were warned about angering. What other lies have we been fed?
One thing is beyond certain: Rhydian doesn’t collect our tithes.
I’ve been privy to the amount Pyke supposedly sets off with every month, and there is no evidence of that wealth on display.
Rhydian’s cottage is comfortable if a bit shabby.
The latch on the window is broken. There is a crack along the far wall. The door to the bedroom hangs limply from the rusted hinges.
Moreover, my father and I were not the only ones to send gifts along with our tithe.
There is no evidence of the cast iron pans the Grants sent with the previous tithe, or the wooden chairs Mr. Locke had painstakingly carved for three months, hoping it would be enough to save his home from the minotaur’s retribution.
Where are the bushels of fruit? The hefty crates of vegetables and sweet wine sent his way every month?
It is possible that Rhydian destroyed the gifts, but after meeting him, it seems unlikely.
He is just as much a victim of the lies as we are. Maybe more so, given how isolated he’s become.
My heart reaches for him. I shift on the soft mattress and the bed frame creaks. Looking towards the gap beneath the door, I imagine his large frame sprawled out atop the small couch. He is a kind male. Not many would offer me their bed without expecting something in return.
Rhydian hadn’t touched me beyond treating my injuries and making sure I didn’t hurt myself in the fall. The only indication that he had any interest in me whatsoever was his heated stares. They didn’t make me feel the way Pyke’s did.
Instead of wishing to hide, I wanted to bask in his timid curiosity.
I’ve never felt this way towards another. It’s as if I already know him. The feeling is as frightening as it is thrilling. I don’t know what to do with this newfound desire.
Being with Rhydian is impossible. I’m leaving come dawn, but…what if I don’t have to?
The idea comes on suddenly, and I lurch from the bed.
Surveying the room, I realize what I must do. Not just for my own selfish wants to remain in Rhydian’s company, but to expose the truth.
Rhydian doesn’t possess a fraction of the wealth Pyke does. I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of glimpsing the inside of his large home, and it teems with decadence. Wares procured from far-off lands and statues made of pure gold.
It's ostentatious and fitting for a man as tactless as Pyke.
Stories of mobs seeking out the minotaur are old, and none of them reported anything more than a snarling beast that sent them running back to Dew Hollow. In coming to see Rhydian, I have discovered something far more dangerous than a cruel Minotaur Lord: the truth.
Pyke has been pocketing our money for years. He has been the sole liaison between our village and Rhydian for decades. No one ever ensured Pyke actually delivered the funds. That is how he’s accumulated such wealth.
Meeting Rhydian the con seems so obvious. Pyke used our fear of the unknown against us.
He’s the one who burned down the Fosters’ farm.
My blood runs cold, but there’s no denying that is what happened. Rhydian isn’t capable of something that cruel. It makes sense why he seemed confused when I brought up needing an extension on the tithe.
My father and I, nor anyone else in Dew Hollow, can afford to fatten Pyke’s purse any longer. His scheme will come to an end. I just need to confirm the truth before any more time is wasted.
The soft linen blankets twist around my body. They smell of Rhydian—warm dirt and rich sunshine. I inhale deeply and feel a responding ache bloom to life between my thighs. This is all new to me.
At twenty-seven, I had made peace with never finding a partner. I had resigned myself to the lonely life of a spinster, hoping that the bakery would keep me in a good financial way until I passed.
Meeting Rhydian has changed all that.
It’s foolish and reckless, but my feelings can’t be denied. I want to know more about him, to be in his presence, and to bring him back to Dew Hollow. He has lived alone for too long.
There is more to life. If the people of Dew Hollow could see him the way I do and understand that he, too, is a victim of Pyke’s lies, they would welcome him.
I think of his gentle knock before I fell asleep, asking if I needed something to eat. It’s a heady feeling being taken care of by a male who could so easily snap my neck with the twist of his wrist. He is gentle and compassionate with me.
I wish to soak up every drop of his attention while I can.
He isn’t a human man. Truth be told, I’ve never desired one. They couldn’t give me what I’ve longed for. Protection. Not the way Rhydian can. He is large and capable. The impressive muscles of his abdomen had made my mouth water. He could carry five heavy sacks of flour without breaking a sweat.
It’s because he’s different from everyone I’ve ever met that I like him so much. I want to peel back his layers and learn every secret. To return his yearning stares with ones of my own.
To touch him and have him touch me—to let him see me as no one else has.
My cheeks burn at my wanton thoughts. I throw the blankets off. Daydreaming of Rhydian won’t get me the answers I seek. Once my suspicions are confirmed, then I can consider the feelings stirring between him and I.
For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful for the future. Everything is about to change, and I want Rhydian by my side when they do. It is fast—impulsive—but it’s the truth.
There’s no time for any more lies.
Why deny something just because it’s quick? I’ll want him just as I do now in a month, a year. Time will only increase my need for him.
The loneliness in him is the same kind I recognize in myself.
I had my father, but that was not the companionship I longed for. I wanted someone who was mine. Someone to enjoy a meal with. To turn towards during the cold winter nights. To start and end each day together.
It is possible Rhydian will not be agreeable to the idea. Perhaps he has spent too long in isolation to want to leave the comfortable solace. If that is the case and our time together is drawing short, I need to savor every moment I can.
Flinging my legs over the side of the bed, I land on the floor with a gentle thud. I wait for pain to radiate up my leg, but there is none. I test my ankle and find it healed. Amazing.
Padding towards the door, I pull it open and step into the dim living room illuminated only by dwindling candlelight.
My foot catches on something, and I let out a startled scream. A responding groan echoes from the floor as the figure lurches back. It’s Rhydian. He’s fallen partially into my room through the open door. Rising to his full height, sharp shadows decorate his face.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Rhydian’s cheeks darken as he rubs the side of his head. His polished black horns glimmer. I take in the red rings around his dark eyes.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly very aware that I’m basically naked save for the thin shift that’s tight on my curves.
“Have you not slept?”
Rhydian exhales through his nose.
“I couldn’t. Not with you here. I wanted to make sure no one would get past me if someone came looking for you.”
My heart beats rapidly.
Rubbing my thighs together, delight floods my veins. My nipples harden against the front of my shift. Rhydian’s eyes dip from my face to the low neckline before looking away. I want to pull him back—to demand he look at me forever.
“No one is searching for me, but I appreciate the protection all the same.”
The only man who could be coming after me is our common enemy. Pyke is no match for Rhydian. I no longer feel fear when I think of the man who’s been lusting after me for a decade.
Rhydian will keep me safe. Once the other villagers learn of Pyke’s treachery, I have no doubt they’ll want to inflict their own punishments on him.
I step back from the door and gesture towards the bed.
“Sit,” I command. “I need to ask you something.”
Rhydian raises a brow but does as I ask. His bare feet echo across the floor. The bed sinks under his impressive weight. Crossing his arms over his chest, I watch his biceps bulge.
His stomach muscles flex as he keeps himself upright on the mattress.
“Rhydian, do you collect a monthly tithe from all the villagers of Dew Hollow? One that, if they can’t afford to pay, you burn down their homes.”
His eyes go wide. Part of me fears they may burst from his skull. He launches to his feet. The tips of his horns brush the ceiling as he shakes his head. Confusion and anguish mar his features.
“No.” His voice is choked. “N—no, of course not. I’ve never been to Dew Hollow.”
I nod, giving him a small smile.