Page 40 of A Winter Courtship
Ulrich’s father.
ChapterTwenty-Five
Every muscle in Ulrich’s body constricted. Dread sank like lead in his belly at the sound of his father’s voice.
Ulrich yanked from Lutoth’s touch.
Lutoth sucked in a breath.
The lace slid from Ulrich’s neck, crumpling to the ground.
“Father!” Ulrich said. “What are you doing here?”
His father stood in the doorway, glowering at them. It hadn’t been that long since his father last visited the smithy. Why was he here? Why couldn’t his father have stayed away until after the Solstice? It was just two more days, and then Ulrich had planned to go see him.
He wasn’t prepared to face his father yet. Not here and not now. And definitely not with Lutoth watching.
Suddenly, his plan seemed so foolish. Why hadn’t he been prepared for the chance they might run into his father beforehand? He’d just blindly hoped that they wouldn’t.
And now here his father was.
“Just thought I’d stop in and see thehard workmy son was doing. I hadn’t realised you’d have company.” His flinty gaze landed on Lutoth. His thin upper lip curled.
Ulrich didn’t look at Lutoth. “I’d… I’d just finished up.” Ulrich gestured to the axe head he’d made.
“I see.” His father stepped forward, cane thumping on the wooden floor.
Ulrich dropped his head, shoulders pulling in. And just like that, he was a little boy again, standing before his father, whom Ulrich had let down.
“And is this yourcustomer? Does he need an axe?” his father mocked.
“This is Lutoth,” Ulrich said. “He is…”He is courting me, and he makes me feel special, desired, and cared for. He cherished me and cares for me and doesn’t make me feel like a hulking, dirty brute. I am happier with him than I ever have been. He is the love of my life. He is mine, and I am his.
But his tongue seized, unable to form the words. His courage failed him. “He is a… A… A friend,” Ulrich stuttered.
Lutoth gasped.
Ulrich squeezed his eyes shut. “I mean, he is—”
“A friend, is he?” his father interrupted. “Well, don’t let yourfrienddistract you from your work. A blacksmith needs to be focused. Needs to be disciplined. Can’t be distracted byprettythings.” He glared at Lutoth. Then his harsh gaze travelled to Ulrich.
Ulrich wished he could disappear, throw himself into the forge, and burst into flames and smoke.
“Hopefully next time I come by, you’ll be doing some work,” his father said. And with that, his father shuffled to the door and walked out, not even saying goodbye.
Silence reigned in the smithy.
Ulrich couldn’t speak. The taste of shame seared his throat shut.
A friend.That was how he’d introduced Lutoth to his father.
He couldn’t look at Lutoth. Couldn’t move.
Ulrich knew he’d done wrong. He’d betrayed Lutoth. He was too weak. Too cowardly.
“Are you ashamed of me?” Lutoth asked.
“No!” Ulrich blurted. “Of course not. Never!” Ulrich forced himself to look into Lutoth’s face.
