Chapter 12 Araphi #2
She gestures at Sage to sit down. Silently, Araphi sends Sage a wish for good bargaining.
She focuses all her intention on the table and begins a song about two traders in the wilds of the Swamplands.
It’s a simple ballad, but one that has enough verses to give Sage time to talk with Viktas and negotiate for the supplies they need.
Please let this work. Please let Viktas sell the supplies to us. Please let her trust Sage. Please let me succeed.
Perhaps someone is listening on the other planes, because the music flowing from Araphi’s fingers suddenly seems richer. Her words are more lovely, and the song more tenderly devastating than ever before.
Before the ballad is over, Viktas is wiping tears from her eyes.
As Araphi plays her last notes, Viktas reaches over and shakes Sage’s hand.
Sage’s face is lit beautifully by the candles on the table, each flicker of their flames snagging along the topography of her cheekbones and illuminating the golden strands of her short hair.
But that’s not what makes Araphi’s breath catch in her throat.
It’s the way Sage beams at Araphi, pinning her with a look that is full of wonder and delight.
Triumph is written across her features, as well as something else.
Something hungry and wild. She licks her top lip ever so slightly, and Araphi’s belly tightens with need.
The song ends, the villagers cheer, and Araphi takes a bow.
Sage’s gaze still burns into her.
Araphi plays a few more songs, non-magical but wildly popular, before hurrying from the front of the lodge, pushing through a crowd of villagers who are clapping her on the back and thanking her.
She clutches her lute to her chest, thanking them in turn, chatting with them, making small talk, and getting pulled into several different conversations all at once.
With each new interaction, her eyes find Sage’s.
The ranger’s gaze is smoke, and Araphi burns with longing, even as she smiles and nods and is extremely fucking charming with what feels like everyone in the village.
Still, the heady aftermath of all that music and magic dances through Araphi’s blood, making her reckless and bold.
She has to talk to Sage alone now.
She darts around a clump of villagers who are blocking the path toward Sage, and moves along the wall.
“That was incredible!” an eager male voice bursts out in front of Araphi. A young man has materialized out of the crowds and now stands between her and Sage. His thatch of blond hair stands up and his cheeks are flushed with drink.
Gods, one more person to talk to before she can finally reach Sage. ’Tis the life of a working bard, though. Araphi turns a blinding smile on the young man.
She vaguely recognizes him as one of the members of the party that met them as they entered Hexham. Unlike the men who took their weapons, however, this villager looks delighted to see her again.
“Thank you,” Araphi says, warmed by the praise but not wanting to get pulled into another long conversation.
He grins at her, eagerness coming off him like an excited puppy.
“I’d heard that bards were talented, and I’ve always loved music, but I had no idea music could sound like that.
It was just so much more—I don’t know—more musical than anything I’ve ever heard?
Does that make sense? Maybe it was the way you sang it?
Or the songs themselves, though that doesn’t make any sense because I’ve heard some of those before. Which means it has to be you!”
Warm breath wafts over Araphi. She takes a step backward and her shoulders hit the lodge wall.
“While I appreciate your enthusiasm for music,” she says, gripping her lute more tightly, “I really must—”
Suddenly, Sage is there, wedging herself between Araphi and the man, her back solidly pressed against Araphi’s chest.
“Touch her, and that will be the last thing you do with those fingers,” Sage growls in a voice so low it sends a thrill through Araphi. Sage’s hand flies to her hip, where her dagger should be. Not finding it there, her fingers ball into a fist.
It’s not that the man was any real threat, but still Araphi fights the urge to sag against Sage in relief. She’s been wanting to talk to the ranger since she got off the stage, and now she’s here. Warm and protective and ferocious all at once.
“I…uhm…I’m sorry…” the man stumbles. “I was just…”
“You were just walking away,” Sage whispers, her tone so dangerous she might as well be wielding a blade. “Now.”
Araphi lays a hand on the wing of Sage’s shoulder blade.
Under her touch, Sage’s back tightens, and Araphi swallows hard at their contours, a vivid image of Sage’s lean muscles under her palms as she rubbed salve into them in the woods this morning.
With effort, she pulls her mind away from the memory.
“I don’t think he meant anything by it,” Araphi whispers, leaning forward so her lips brush Sage’s ear. “He’s just a fan, and he got too excited. But thank you for stepping into the path of danger for me.”
This seems to snap Sage out of her fury.
“Oh my gods,” Sage mutters, unclenching her fist. She takes a small step backward, meaning Araphi’s body is now well and truly pinned between the ranger and the wall.
Which Araphi quite enjoys, if she’s being honest.
In front of them, the young man’s eyes are saucers, and he’s got both his hands up.
His tankard of ale shakes in one fist. “I didn’t mean anything by it, ladies,” he says in a rush.
“I swear. I just love music. My ma was a singer—just for us, in the house—but the bard here sang some of her old songs and I wanted…I just wanted to thank her.”
A little crowd has gathered around them, and some of the villagers glare at Sage.
“I’ve got this.” Araphi squeezes Sage’s shoulder once and steps out from behind her. “Really, it’s very much a part of bard life.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sage mutters, running a hand over her face. Her cheeks blossom pink. “I saw him coming toward you and…”
“Really, I’m fine,” Araphi says as gently as possible. “I can handle it, I promise.”
Sage glances toward the door. “Of course you can. I’ve got to go. I need to…I need something out there…” She gestures toward the exit.
Without another word, she flees the lodge. Araphi yearns to go after her, but suddenly Bramble is there along with Nura, shaking her hand and giving her a full mug of cider. Araphi is pulled away from the wall and brought into a circle of villagers, all of them merry and thanking her for the music.
When she glances back at the lodge door, Sage is gone, disappeared somewhere into the night. Araphi misses her more than she has a right to, but that’s a problem for later, she supposes.