“Kadarr,” she replied.
He nodded at her. “No issue, I was planning on buying supplies there,” he said to me.
A second screech sounded, and the shadow returned. It circled over the inn, slowing its flight and continuing to circle.
“I believe it senses you,” Roman whispered. “Quick, down into Nicholas’s cellar.” He motioned for the girls to stay, and we descended the ladder from the loft. Crossing the stable quickly and passing through into the building, I hoped that it would be the last time to see the woman I rejected yet yearned for.
For my heart’s own sake, as much as hers.
But it wasn’t to be. I hid in the cellar for another two hours, and when Roman came to get me, the agreements of the voyage were settled. The Siren Singer had come and gone, but another trap awaited me.
Could I find a waynotto travel with Roman for once? Could I leave him to go on his mad chase and find the scarred girl another way? Maybe now that I was revealed, I could announce myself as the son of Marcus the Whiteclaw?
I was ravenous after such a long day and smelling the cooking while I was hiding helped nothing. Rather than return to the stable with Roman, I chose to stay and eat. I paid for a serving of the dinner meal and began eating in earnest.
It was a meat I’d not had in a long time but couldn’t remember its name. More importantly it was bloody and half rare. Delightful. The juices dripped down my chin and I mopped it up with bread. It was a grateful meal indeed.
I finished the water jug in one long draining gulp. But it wasn’t enough. I still had a deep thirst, a gap to fill that water couldn’t satisfy.Only she could.
I crossed the kitchen and went to the trough, filling the water to the brim. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen had come alive for the evening meal. The inn would be full for one last night before the pack’s left. It’d be busy. But I hoped that we’d be gone.
I turned and bumped into someone, the jug’s contents splashed outwards, covering the poor person head to toe.
It was the girl!
I’d drenched her in water. Her loose shift was soaking and near see through. It hugged her body and accentuated every curve and corner. Every possible place of the body to whisper sweet secrets and love to was revealed entirely.
Along with the bloody gash over her heart.
She was the scarred woman…
When she coughed I realized I had forgotten myself. I hadn’t even offered to help, and she was still wet with water.
I grabbed towels and covering. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe–I didn’t see–it just–”
“It’s okay,” she said, she was blushing. We stared at each as red-faced fools. The gash on her chest beat with visible rapidity. My heart warmed and reached out again, hers too. My wolf howled in unison with another.
I suddenly knew what Roman had known.
The girl had come.
Chapter 7
FEYRA
“I can’t believe him,” Agatha muttered. “A typical man.” She scoffed.
“It wasn’t too bad,” I said. Thinking about how his eyes had watched me, seen into me. The way his body tensed, realizing that I knew he was staring at me too. The look of want on his face… I felt hot.
“Oh yes, a man can ogle you all he wants and it’s not a problem. But for us women, if we did that…” Agatha rolled her eyes, arms still folded from when I’d come back into the stable soaking wet.
I was surprised at Agatha’s anger. It was just an accident. Just a mistimed thing. I should’ve been looking where I was going. He hadn’t meant to wet me and my clothes–
“My clothes,” I blurted.
Agatha looked at me in confusion, blinking furiously. “Yes, they’re wet.”
“No,” I said, throwing off the towels and feeling my pockets. “I forgot about the letter.” I felt my body and pockets. I caught the edge of paper, it was soaked. I took it out gently, sliding it from the fabric and unfolding it onto the wooden table. I took the lamp off its peg and brought it over.
