Page 19 of Wolf's Bane
More than the man’s desperate need for a thorough scrubbing and a haircut, menace dripped off him. He stood with a predator’s stance, despite his submissive gestures, watching his prey.
Watching her.
“A traveler,” he said. The horse munching on leaves behind him supported that. “I stopped at the well for water.”
“We’re nowhere near the main road, and no one knows about the cottage and the well.” Practically no one, and if they did, no one with sense would use it. That was why the cottage remained empty. “Try again,” she ordered.
A look of amusement flashed across his face. An unsettling grin of sharp white teeth spread across his tan, weathered skin. “Well, to be perfectly honest, I thought I might wash up. I am a slave to vanity.”
“Water your horse and fill your canteen, then be on your way.” She waved the bow toward the well but did not lower it.
“I heard the Marechals welcomed travelers at their hearth. Does that kindness not extend to the water of your wells, Miss Marechal?” His words had the ring of familiarity, yet she did not know this man.
Solenne lowered the bow. “The roads here are difficult to travel. You are welcome to stay the night in the cottage.”
“Easy? No. I can’t claim it’s been an easy journey.”
Nor an easy few years, judging by the state of him. Everything about his travel-worn appearance still held, but she noticed the lines on his brows and the exhaustion in his face. He seemed thinner, and in a way that was more than lean and suggested illness.
“You can wash up if you don’t mind cold water,” she said and headed for the cottage. Inside, she pointed to the tub and soap.
“Using this for storage? Seems a waste,” the man said. He stood uncomfortably close as he looked about the one room, making no motion to retrieve the tub.
She shivered and moved a hand to her silver blade. Menace rolled off the man. “It’s built to last, but no one is brave enough to live out here on their own.”
“I understand this region has a wolf problem.” He grinned, somehow baring more teeth than should be possible.
She tapped the flat of her blade against the cake of soap. His eyes followed the movement. “Just a small suggestion. You smell.”
“So do you, Solenne.” That grin reappeared, sharp and unsettling.
He knew her name.
Something inside her, a thread or a faint warning bell, reverberated in her chest. She needed to leave. Not flee, because running made predators chase, but leave.
Minding to walk at a casual gait, the tension in her chest eased once she reached the cottage’s gate. She felt foolish at her skittishness. The man was a traveler, drifting between the settlements on the fringe of habitable land. It was a hard sort of life and he deserved kindness, not apprehension.
“Come to the kitchen in the back of the main house if you want a meal,” she shouted.
The man had already pumped water from the well into the tub. First, he allowed his horse to drink its fill. Sunlight picked out the golden highlights in his brown hair.
Then he removed his shirt.
Lean muscles flexed in the sun. The man had a large frame, but hardship made him lean enough to count his ribs. On his chest, over his heart, was a simple tattoo in gray ink, a circle surrounded by a burst of rays.
Sunlight, her namesake. She didn’t know why her breath caught in her chest because the man was a stranger and the tattoo held no significance.
Pale scars stood out against his flesh, crisscrossing his belly and back. They whispered of a life of pain and danger. A fierce bite stood out on his shoulder, looking almost fresh and unhealed. What monsters did that to him? Despite the scars, despite the ribs standing out, he had strength yet in his body.
She pressed a hand to her chest and swore that he smirked.
He dunked his head in the tub. Head wet, water rolled down his chest, rinsing away dust and grime.
Solenne slammed the gate closed, her cheeks burning. “I trust you can find the big house,” she said, barely pausing for him to answer.
This was dangerous. She invited a dangerous stranger into her home.
Aleksandar
