14 #2
“This vial can change your life,” I say.
“Use what we paid for the room to rent a carpet to any nearby city, where you can sell this paint at one of the under-markets or at a broker’s shop.
You’ll have enough money to start over in another town if you want to, or you can live more comfortably here.
Your children will have the food and clothing they need.
All you have to do is repair our carpet and take the vial.
We’ll go on our way, and you’ll do more than survive—you’ll be able to live. ”
She licks her dry lips and gives me another nod.
“Good. How long will it take to make the repair? We’d like to be on our way as soon as possible.”
“I have a repair loom, thread, and fiber adhesive here,” she says.
“But it looks as if some of the unicorn hairs are frayed, which means I can’t splint them back together.
The energy won’t flow properly. I’ll have to obtain replacements at the weaving labs tomorrow.
I have a source, a friend who can supply me with what I need.
But the hairs will cost more money than I have on hand. ” She raises an eyebrow expectantly.
Shit. I don’t want to give her the vial until the job is done, and the coins I have left won’t come close to covering the cost of unicorn hairs. There’s only one other option.
I flip open another pouch on my belt and pull out one of Vawn’s rings. It’s printed with the glyph for strength, flanked by two small rubies. “You can give this to your source in exchange for the hairs.”
This time the light in her eyes is pure greed. I have transformed from another desperate woman into a mysterious source of wealth.
“Did you steal this, too?” Gwin asks.
“Yes. From a noble lady.”
“It looks like a man’s ring.”
“She was a mannish sort. Don’t ask me any more questions. Do you want it or not?”
Gwin’s fingers close around the ring. “I’ll have the repair done by midnight tomorrow.”
“Thank you. And now, if you don’t mind, my brother and I will retire early. We’d rather not be disturbed.” I let my hand settle on the hilt of one of my knives, a hint of what will happen if anyone enters our room and tries to take the vial or our remaining coins.
Awareness flickers in the woman’s eyes. “No one will disturb you.”
“Good.” I roll up the carpet and lay him back in his case. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“You are welcome to it. We have no baths available tonight, but there is a washstand in the room, and a privy with a sink across the hall. May you and your brother rest well.” Her voice floats after me as I head down the short hallway.
I don’t like leaving the carpet on the table, but it’s a sign of trust, one that I think is wise given the cautious dance in which our hostess and I are engaged.
Before heading into our room for the night, I stop in the privy to relieve myself.
At the sink, I wash as much of my body as I can, paying special attention to my armpits and crotch.
Travel is not conducive to cleanliness, and I’d rather smell decent if I have to sleep pressed up against the prince.
I don’t have nightclothes, but I put on fresh underthings, swirl my cloak around myself, and head to the room.
Vawn is standing in the corner, still shrouded in his cloak.
“You should go to the privy across the hall and wash yourself. There’s soap.” I hesitate, then add, in a half-whisper. “I don’t want to sleep next to a smelly man.”
He presses a hand over his heart as if he’s deeply offended. “Such a rude sister. You should make allowances for your poor, scarred, brain-damaged brother.”
“Go.” I hand him his satchel and shoo him away. “Keep your hood up.”
I spend the next half hour fretting, chewing on dried fruit, and wondering what’s taking him so long. The sounds of the house quiet down as the woman and her children find their beds.
Finally Vawn re-enters the room to find me sitting on a chair in my underclothes, gnawing a stick of dried meat and jiggling my knee nervously.
“What took you so long?” I demand.
“You said you wanted me clean. And I had to take care of other things.”
“Other things?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Do you want me to go into detail?”
“No. Put your cloak on that hook near the fireplace so it can dry, and then you get into bed first. I want to sleep on the outside in case anything happens. And I’m going to barricade the door.”
“What could happen?” he whispers. “The lady and her children are sleeping, and they are the only ones who know we’re here.”
“What could happen?” I echo. “Anything, that’s what.” I take the chair I was sitting on and prop it under the door handle. When I turn around, Vawn is directly in front of me.
He has shed his cloak, leaving only a pair of loose ivory sleep pants. The firelight glows warmly on the contours of his bare chest. “Show me your glyphs.”
Mutely I lift my hands, and he takes my fingertips for inspection.
“I should put another coat of varnish on these.” He rubs my knuckles lightly with his thumbs, and then, as if on impulse, he lifts my right hand and ducks his head to kiss my fingers.
The brush of his full, soft lips is like fire to my soul, flaring through my body with the intensity of a lightning strike.
He strokes my fingers with his thumb again, then looks up at me.
My mouth is as dry as paper, and my tongue feels numb.
I have no idea why he affects me so dramatically. I’ve felt flutters of delight and surges of arousal with men before, but sex with them was easy, almost prosaic. Casual. Maybe because there was nothing to anticipate and nothing to dread.
With the prince, everything is either shining hope or abject despair.
The magic of his charm shimmers around him like an iridescent cloud, like a spell, though I know for a fact that neither his toes nor his fingers bear seduction glyphs.
The euphoric influence that quivers in the air between us—it’s just him.
“I made myself come in the privy just now,” he whispers. “I wanted you to be comfortable being close to me, so I took care of that ahead of time.”
Considerate of him, and yet I feel strangely let down. “Oh.”
He tilts his head, perceptive as ever. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”
“Don’t be silly.” I pull my hands away. “You’re my brother.”
“Of course.” He grins, then licks his lips far too slowly. “Sister.”
I turn away to fetch the varnish and my nail repair kit, thankful for the extra few seconds to let the blush drain from my cheeks.
We sit on the bed cross-legged, facing each other, and Vawn coats my nails with varnish.
I let him blow on them, which is foolish, because watching his perfect mouth form a small O is excruciating.
When the varnish is dry, he moves to the far side of the bed, practically pressed against the wall so I can have half the space for myself.
Even so, we can’t lie comfortably without touching each other, because the right side of the mattress slopes down a bit, threatening to spill me onto the floor, so I have to stay back from the edge.
Vawn finally settles down on his left side, with his back to the wall. I’m in front of him on my left side, very conscious of the fact that my ass is touching his lower belly.
It’s awkward, but I refuse to suggest that he sleep on the floor. That would be cruel, after he toiled alongside me through the Red Mountains.
Vawn sighs at my back and slides his hand over my waist. “May I put my arm around you? It will keep you from sliding off the bed.”
“Yes,” I say grudgingly.
Silence for a few moments, and then he whispers teasingly, “Is this how brothers and sisters sleep?”
“Sshh.”
“I forgot, I can’t talk. The horse scrambled my brains.” He vents a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe she bought that story.”
“And why shouldn’t she? It’s better than the stories you keep telling, about us being married.”
“Those are very good stories. They provide an excuse for our closeness and your peevishness.”
“I’m not peevish. I’m practical.”
He laughs, and I thrust an elbow back into his ribs to quiet him. He grunts faintly, then tucks his arm more tightly around me.
I lie there, watching the fire burn low, chewing my lip anxiously. I can’t stay still, despite my best efforts. My exhaustion has gone beyond simple weariness into some new space of hyper-awareness.
“You’re so tense and jittery,” murmurs Vawn.
“Sorry. I can’t help it.”
“I wish you would let me help.”
Is he… is he suggesting…
“You’ve seen my glyphs,” he says. “I could give you two or three climaxes. It will settle you down. Purely a matter of mercy for both of us, so we can sleep.”
I swallow hard, cheeks burning.
“You haven’t said no,” says the prince cautiously. “Shall I…”
Still I don’t reply, but I squirm, prey to the same gnawing restlessness.
“You can’t say yes, can you?” Vawn murmurs. “It’s too much for you, admitting that you want this.” He shifts the arm around my waist, his right hand sliding down my stomach. “If you don’t tell me to stop, lovely, this is going to happen.”
I clamp my lips shut.
“Very well.” Vawn’s mouth brushes my ear. “When my fingers find your wetness, the glyphs will activate, guided by my intent. If at any point you want me to stop, tell me.”
I’m breathing fast, fighting the urge to grab his hand and halt its downward movement. Instead I reach up with my right arm and sink my fingers into his hair.
His fingertips slide into my panties, and I move my right leg, opening myself slightly to him. I’m trembling, not sure what to expect from the invasion. I’ve never experienced glyph use during sex before.
But this isn’t sex. Just a release of tension. A practical favor from him, so we can both sleep.
Vawn’s central finger skims over my clit, nudging between the plump outer lips of my pussy. When he touches the delicate wetness at my entrance, he lets out a long hum of pleasure, and at the same moment, the glyph on his first finger activates.