Sunbeam Smiles
As the hunt unfolded, Stormsby spoke of little else but the Kingsmen.
Word had it that they’d stationed guards at every road in and out of Stormsby. It seemed like hyperbole at first; a dozen men to guard several different routes, interview the people of Stormsby, and somehowstillhave time to lounge around my tavern day and night? It should have been impossible, but it was beginning to feel as though they’d doubled in number.
There wasalwayssomeone looking for a drink, a hot meal, always soiled sheets and clothes spilling out of the baskets at the end of each hallway, and Dagda save me, thesmell.
Whiskey and sweat and feet.
I’d grown up alongside one teenaged boy, and that had been torture enough — I’m not sure which god I’d pissed off to end up serving a dozen more. Sorcha’s hands were red and raw from endless laundry, my back and knees ached with every hour spent on my feet, and my chest was cold and hollow with the carefulcaging of my Flame. It was becoming too much.
And as it turned out, I was not losing my bloody mind.
All came to light one afternoon, when Sorcha and I were changing the soldier’s bedding for the fifth time in as many days. I’d been wrestling either end of a clean white sheet, static dragging at my clothes and teasing fine golden hairs into my face as I stretched awkwardly over the bed to tuck in one corner, only for the other end to pop free.
I sprawled facedown on the bed and groaned into the mattress. I would burn these beds to cinders if I had to change one more sheet this week, honestly. My magic swirled quietly, likely perking up at the thought of finally being unleashed.
At the sound of a creak in the doorway, I propped myself up on my elbows and loosed a long sigh of relief.
“I could use a hand, love.”
“Thought you’d never ask, darling.”
That drawling brogue was not Sorcha’s.
The other three corners of the sheet popped free as I rolled, heart lurching while the Flame in my chest hissed like a doused firepit. I struggled upright and sprang to my feet. The Captain stood in the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk fighting to claim the scarred edge of his lips.
Instinct tugged behind my navel, and I shrank back a step before I could stop myself. I was certain he noticed by the way his brow twitched up, but if he’d wanted to comment he didn’t get a chance. A rather young Kingsman appeared in the slight gap in the doorway, peering around the Captain into the room and eyeing me with open, innocent interest.
Without taking his eyes off me, the Captain stepped aside to let him in – and then followed.
Calm,I thought desperately, unsure whether I was warning myself or my Flame. I’d yet to understand why my Flame was so reactive around him, but I had beenverycareful to avoid another close call. Breakfast was self-service only since the incident in the dining hall, and I was diligent about keeping the width of the bar between myself and the Captain at all times.Getting trapped in a cramped little bedroom with him was the last thing I needed.
“Is there something you need, Captain?”
He grinned, and my Flame writhed.Stop.
Already on edge, I just about jumped out of my skin when the boy spoke up at my side by the half-made bed.
“The Captain was just showing me to my room,” said the young lad brightly, then jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “Nicholas. You must be Rosie?”
“Rosaleen,” I returned automatically, eyes drawing magnetically back to the Captain as though he might lunge across the room when I wasn’t watching. But then the boy’s words processed and my head whipped around. “I’m sorry,howhave we not met?”
Nicholas had crossed to the tiny round window, and glanced distractedly over his shoulder.
“Hm? Oh! I don’t reckon we’ve had the opportunity Miss Rosie, I’ve never been to Storsmby. Lovely village, though.”
I whirled on the Captain, one hand flying out to indicate the young soldier, my voice low and simmering.
“Has this onejust arrived?”
He cocked a dark brow.
“Yes,” he said slowly, dragging each letter out in a way that made me grind my teeth — like I was a simpleton, missing something entirely obvious.
“I don’t have another room for him,” I said, just as slow and patronising.
“He’s from the Owl platoon,” he said, like that should mean anything to me. When I just glared at him, he frowned and added; “He’s on the evening patrol?”
