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“Smart woman.” Ayda sighed.
The next thirty minutes were some of the longest of Ayda's life. She could feel the sweat beading on her neck, even though goosebumps broke out on her arms. The entire atmosphere of the forest was off, just as Hùisdean described it. There was a dead magic lurking over it.
At first, Ayda thought it was similar to the draugr, but after a few minutes, she could tell it was another kind of magic entirely. There was still some essence to draugr magic; there had to be something there, as dead as it was, to want to reach out and leech life and magic from others. No, this was the opposite. It was a total black hole of life. Ayda was surprised she could even breathe.
Finally, the path opened up to a small clearing. There was a small hunting lodge, just as Hùisdean had promised, sitting in the very center of the clearing. Ayda could detect the wards around it from a distance, although weak. The hunting lodge had once been beautifully painted; blue and gold paint traces were still evident on the walls and window shutters. Now, it looked half abandoned, but luckily, it still appeared sturdy.
Hùisdean led the way into the clearing, gracefully descending off his horse and tying it to a hitching post. Ayda attempted to do the same but miscalculated how sore she'd be after nearly a full day of riding. Her foot missed the stirrup, and she fell the final few feet to the ground, landing on her backside with a thump.
“Oh, fuck me,” Ayda groaned. Before she could even roll over and help herself up, Hùisdean was there, leaning over her with his eyes wide with fear.
“Are you all right?” He seemed to compose himself rather quickly when he realized she'd taken only a short fall.
“Yes, I'm fine.” Ayda rolled her eyes and brushed off his attempts to help her stand. “Is this what it will take to get you to talk to me then?” Ayda turned her back towards Hùisdean and finished tying up Goldberry. He sighed heavily but didn't respond directly.
Hùisdean started walking towards the house, and Ayda followed in the same manner she'd followed him all day. They approached the front door, and Hùisdean lifted his hands automatically as if out of habit. Ayda recognized the hand movements of someone about to cast a ward.
There was half a minute when nothing happened, then another thirty seconds of silence before Hùisdean released a long string of curse words under his breath.
Without looking at Ayda, he muttered, “Can you strengthen the protection warding on the house? My magic's drained even more. It doesn't seem to be working.”
Ayda's chest immediately tightened in sympathy. Nothing couldn’t be as awful as slowly starting to feel yourself cut off from magic. She was a witch; it had to be even more difficult for an elf—a creature practically made of magic—to feel it draining away.
“Yes, of course,” Ayda answered calmly, without overt attempts at niceties or reassurances.
She set the wards quickly, watching the light waves of blue and green magic wrapped around the clearing. Once they had settled down, Hùisdean nodded.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice kind but still embarrassed. Ayda didn't know what to say, so she again opted for more silence between them.
How is this so much worse than when we argued like cats and dogs?
Hùisdean opened the door to the lodge and escorted Ayda in. He snapped his fingers, and a fire appeared in the hearth, which required a relatively small bit of magic, but after not being able to set the wards, that felt like a small success. His shoulders relaxed and the tense lines between his brows softened.
The fire's glow illuminated the entire room and revealed a small, open floor plan decorated similarly to the rooms Ayda had stayed in at Carenlume. Everything was carved from wood and elaborately embellished. The hunting lodge, however, was slightly more subdued, by elven standards, and cozier.
“I can rustle up something to eat,” Hùisdean noted quietly. He pointed through the only other door in the cabin. “The bedroom and bathroom are through there if you want to freshen up.”
“Okay,” Ayda agreed quietly. The ache in her thighs and back from riding was intensifying, and she needed to get away from Hùisdean for a couple of moments to refocus. She refused to let her wheels spin over the fact that Hùisdean had pointed the way to a single bedroom.
Ayda went to the bathroom and buried her face in her hands, forcing herself to breathe deeply. She started washing her hands, attempting to get some of the horse smell off. Ayda stared at herself in the mirror and gave herself thirty seconds to lose her mind.
What in the ever-loving fuck is even happening right now?
Chapter Twelve
Ayda steeled her expression and walked out of the bathroom. Hùisdean didn't acknowledge her as she entered the kitchen. He kept his back to her as he moved around the small space, pulling some dry goods out of the cabinets. A cast iron pot was already heating up over a small flame.
“You can cook?” Ayda asked calmly, attempting to find some common ground with him.
“Mmph,” Hùisdean grunted affirmatively, refusing to speak more than he had to.
Ayda sighed, turning around to look at the interiors of the hunting lodge. The fire roared in the hearth, warming the entire room and casting harsh shadows along the walls. Under the flickering light, all the carvings and paintings took on a slightly frightening appearance.
Ayda's pulse raced. The tension in the air was so thick that she thought she couldn’t breathe. She turned around, letting out a frustrated exhale when Hùisdean's back still faced her.
“Are we going to keep doing this? Honestly! I cannot believe you want me to work with you, but you refuse to talk to me! What the fuck, Hùisdean?”
Hùisdean moved so fast that Ayda didn't even see him flinch. One moment, he was looming over a pot on the stove, and the next, she was pressed against the stone wall. Hùisdean's body was flush against hers as he slapped his hands on either side of her head. His eyes were wide, and the look on his face was positively feral as he checked her out, practically snarling as he leaned in until there was virtually no space between them.
