“Please don’t be weird about it. It doesn’t change anything.” Frid mixed her oats with unnecessary precision.
Victor’s head snapped up, and I could clearly see that he had something to say about that.
“Are you going to share his room?” I asked.
“Of course not,” Frid said, and again, my eyes landed on Victor.
Tynan stood up, picking up his plate.
“Where are you going?” Victor asked.
I watched Tynan move to the kitchen sink and carefully clean his plate. I turned away remembering those fingers on me just half an hour before. Blood was pounding in my head, and suddenly, it was getting too hard to breathe. This was pure madness. I had completely lost myself over this man.
“I need to meet someone,” he responded.
And suddenly, I was not certain about anything.
What if I read him wrong? What if everything that happened between us meant nothing to him?
I gripped my spoon so tight, that a sharp pain went up my wrist.
When Tynan was gone, I swiftly cleaned up my plate andreturned to our room. Incapable of finding anything else to do, I wrapped myself in a thick shawl intending to get out of the house. Before closing the front door behind me, I caught a glimpse of Frid and Victor looking intensely at each other. Victor’s hand played with a spoon while his eyes burned into the girl’s face.
“I’ll be back,” I said, shutting the door behind me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
TYNAN
The sun was getting warmer when I stopped by Sage’s hut. I circled the structure and approached the entrance exactly the same way I did many times before. Except, this time I quickly spotted the movement inside.
“Sage?” I called.
Colorful swearing greeted me behind the front door and I smirked remembering the old man and his well known hospitality.
“What do you want?” he shouted.
His voice seemed even deeper than I remembered and also raspier, if that was even possible.
“I need to ask yousome questions.”
“Get lost. Will you? I’m not a fucking seer,” the voice barked.
“No, you are not.” I pushed the door open to find the old man in ragged clothes struggling to kindle the fire in a crumbling fireplace. Inside was a small mound compiled of dry leaves and tiny branches that he was trying to ignite.
“It’s not dry enough,” I calmly stated and earned a hateful look.
“Why the hell are you here?”
His wrinkled, sallow skin was well concealed by the messy beard and overgrown hair. Only his sharp eyes peered into my face, doing little to intimidate me.
“I have questions.”
“And how’s that my problem?” The old man chuckled as if he said something that amused him.
“You’re the only one who can help.” I crossed my arms on my chest.
“I’m not interested in helping you.”
