Page 124 of Untempered
One of her ears went back as he opened the gate, and she put herself between him and me.
“See, best buddies,” he said. “Give me the comb. I’ve seen what you’re like with them. I’ll sort out her mane.”
It sounded like a jab, but it was said with a sort of amused resignation. I didn’t know what he meant, except that he was helping, so I handed over the comb and ignored the rest, turning my focus back to her withers.
“How come you weren’t riding her the day we met?” he asked me.
In the quiet, calm oasis that was the stables, it was easy to believe the rest of the world didn’t exist, that all the worries and fears couldn’t reach us here. And still, speaking freely about what Isolde and I did was an anathema. Explaining how she’d hurt her foot kicking a stablehand and how the boy had hit her, and the whole saga, just seemed like too much. I just shook my head. Conversation wasn’t what I wanted.
The sound of Storm’s breathing slowed, and she relaxed into the attention, letting us care for her. I knew she would’ve returned home driven by instinct and made it all the way through sheer luck, but I didn’t care. It felt personal to me. Like she’d come home to seeme.
I was grasping at straws, but they were all I had, and this particular straw was worth holding.
CHAPTERFORTY-NINE
CHAY
“Many productive plants need some shelter. Even sun-loving plants, such as the tomato, benefits from shade when the sun is at its peak. Remain aware of your context and modify your garden to ensure all plants get what they need.”
~ Growing Greatness: Common Garden Plants in Arcanloc
Imust’ve fallen asleep on one of the chairs by her fire again, listening to the crackle of the flames as she poured over old texts. When I woke, her candle had burned low, and she’d sunk down in the blankets so only her nose and the top of the scroll in her hands poked out. As I watched, she rolled up one end and unrolled the next. Those whiskey eyes skimmed over whatever secrets were encoded there.
She’d be warm under those blankets. Warm and pliant. Parts of her would be soft, other parts, firm. I could almost feel the way she’d fill my hands.
As I watched, a frown creased her brow, and whatever it was caused her to transition from fascinated to disapproving to highly irritated.
“What’s wrong?”
She jumped, pulling the scroll under the blankets like a rabbit ducking into its warren. “What? Nothing.”
I straightened, stretching the kinks out of my back. I’d blame the woodcutting before I’d blame the chair. For a non-bed surface, it’d treated me pretty well. “Looked like something was wrong,” I said around a yawn. “What’re you reading, anyway? It must be past midnight.”
“I’m sorry I kept you up.”
“You didn’t,” I disagreed, interested in how she was dodging the question. “Is this you trying to be polite?”
“I’m not following, sir.”
“Sir?” I asked lazily. “That’s awful formal, considering how recently I untied your pants.” I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud, but I didn’t mind the way her eyes glittered dangerously at me in response.
“I was deeply unwell,” she said primly. “And I appreciate your assistance under those highlyunusualcircumstances. Even though you were bloodsworn.”
“I wasn’t oathbound to undress you, specifically,” I pointed out, since she appeared to need details. “Give me some credit for doing the right thing because it’s the right thing, not because I’ll die otherwise, please.”
Those eyes snapped over to me again, wider, as if she hadn’t quite realized what she was doing every time she did theyou’re bloodswornthing.
Before I could get another apology, I said, “Anyway, that isn’t an answer to my question. What’re you reading when the candles have burned low that annoyed you so?”
I waited, but she didn’t respond. Just reached out and snuffed out the candle.
“Is this another situation like earlier, when I asked you a thing, and you didn’t expect me to actually want the answer?” The woman navigated the world with predetermined rules that I didn’t understand and wasn’t going to learn without clear instruction. Of course we’d misunderstand each other while we figured that all out. “Because I’m just going to offer you a blanket assurance that if I ask you something, I want your response.”
Her laugh was nervous. I could still see her in the firelight, huddled low in her nest. “As you will.”
I stoked the fire higher. She was definitely acting strangely. “Reading poems that’d make me blush?” She spluttered, and I kind of liked her being off guard. Considering the station she’d been born to, she could talk a good talk, but it felt more like bravado and bluntness than real comfort with the topic of sex. “Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed, stringing her along just a little longer. “I doubt I’d blush. Perhaps I’d giggle.”
“Mayhap you’d weep!” she shot back. “Ugh. The last man who flirted with me while discussing war crimes had to flee this city.”
