Page 79 of Destiny Redeemed
I swallowed hard, not knowing how to answer. The memory of his hands on my body, the way he’d unraveled me with nothing but touch, lingered far too vividly. “Uh…right.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through my body. His hand left the reins briefly to trace a path along my arm. “Cold?”
“No,” I whispered, though goosebumps followed his touch.
“Pity. I was hoping for an excuse to hold you closer.”
Despite Anderic’s promise that we would reach our accommodation “soon,” it was nearly sunset the following day when we finally arrived at what could only generously be called a house. My back ached from the endless hours on horseback, and my patience had worn as thin as the building’s decrepit walls.
As we dismounted in the waning light, a piece of window shade chose that exact moment to detach itself and flutter pathetically to the ground.
“Is this the fine accommodation you spoke so highly of, Captain?” Anderic’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he helped me down from the horse, his hands lingering at my waist a moment longer than necessary.
Lennox’s face darkened. “I didn’t exactly have time for a proper inspection tour, Your Highness. You gave me less than a day’s notice.”
“And I expected more than a collapsing shack,” Anderic shot back, gesturing broadly at the weathered structure. “This place looks like it would crumble if a squirrel sneezed on it.”
“Perhaps Your Highness would prefer sleeping under the stars? I hear the northern wolves are particularly friendly this time of year.”
“At least the wolves wouldn’t subject me to your incompetence.”
“My incompetence? Who decided to bring along an unexpected guest without any warning?”
While they traded barbs like children fighting over a toy, I slipped away and pushed open the creaking door. Inside, I was pleasantly surprised. Unlike its exterior, the interior was clean and orderly—two modest bedrooms branched off from a central space that served as both kitchen and dining area.
The kitchen corner held a stone hearth with a hanging pot and several shelves stocked with preserved meats, dried herbs, and root vegetables. A few small bundles of firewood were neatly stacked against the wall. Someone had prepared for our arrival, after all.
I returned to find the men still locked in their verbal sparring match.
“Next time, I’ll be sure to requisition a palace for His Royal Highness—”
“Enough!” I snapped, my patience finally shattering. Both men turned to me with identical expressions of surprise. “Forthe love of all that’s holy, stop your bickering and get inside. The house is perfectly fine—clean, stocked, and, most importantly, not crawling with wolves or bandits.”
They exchanged glances but fell silent.
“You,” I pointed at Anderic, “fetch water from the well. And you,” my finger swung to Lennox, “bring in our supplies and see to the horses. I’m going to make something to eat before I pass out from hunger.”
To my astonishment, they obeyed without argument. I set to work in the kitchen, chopping onions and carrots and adding dried herbs to the pot of water Anderic brought. I found preserved chicken in a sealed jar and added it to the simmering broth. The familiar rhythms of cooking calmed my frayed nerves, reminding me of my time in exile when I’d learned to prepare meals from almost nothing.
I caught Anderic watching me from the doorway, a curious expression on his face.
“What?” I challenged, stirring the pot with more force than necessary.
“Nothing,” he said, though his eyes said otherwise. “I’ve just never seen a noble lady so… comfortable in a kitchen.”
I bit back a retort about how exile tends to teach one useful skills. “There are many things you haven’t seen me do, Your Highness.”
Within the hour, we sat around a wobbly table assembled from crates, steam rising from three bowls of fragrant soup. My stomach growled loudly as I dipped a spoon into the golden broth.
Lennox stared down at his bowl, his expression a mixture of suspicion and reluctance.
“What?” I demanded, my spoon halfway to my mouth.
He tilted his head. “Is this… edible?”
Anderic smirked beside him but wisely kept his mouth shut. He clearly anticipated the storm brewing.
“Why don’t you eat it and find out for yourself, Captain?” I replied, my voice dripping with sweetness that wouldn’t fool a child. “Unless you’re afraid of a little soup?”
