Page 55 of The Seeker

“Protecting myself—learning,” I corrected him.

“I know that now.” He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve. . . I’ve never had a weighted before, or even a relationship, and I . . . I’m not very good at handling all the emotions that come with it.”

My mind caught on his words. “You’ve never had a relationship before?”

He shook his head. “I was always too busy with training and becoming a general.” He grimaced before continuing. “I’ve been with women, of course, but . . . nothing more than a night. And they always just . . . did what I wanted.”

I poked at my pastry again, gingerly picking it up with my fingertips. It was still hot, but I was impatient. I blew on the steaming insides as I spoke. “Me either. I’ve never been in a relationship besides the one I had with Leif and, well . . . we both know how that ended.”

His gaze filled with sadness, and he looked away to pick up his pastry in the same way I was.

I gingerly took a bite, moaning at the delicious savory flavor. This was exactly what I needed.

“I promise I’ll do better, Runa. Everything just happened so fast between us and then you were taken from me and . . .” He took his own bite, wincing at the temperature. “You deserve it, Runa. You deserve to be free—weighted relationship be damned.”

I swallowed. “I’ll hold you to that.”

We finished our food and our beers in silence, the bartender busy with the tables. I didn’t miss the way Karl and Ena would glance over at us from time to time. I stood, about to ask if Otho was ready to return to the inn, when I noticed many of the men were busy pushing the tables to the side of the room.

“What the . . .”

Otho set coins on the bar and rose next to me, a grin on his face. “I forgot to tell you the best part of this place.”

The plates clanked behind us as the bartender collected them.

“And that is?”

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than a woman emerged from the kitchen, a string instrument on her shoulder. To my surprise, she began to move about the room, dancing, as she used a pressed reed to play the instrument.

I’d never seen anything like it. The music she produced was upbeat, and before I could stop my foot, it was tapping along to the beat and the other patrons, who clapped in rhythm.

She danced on her own for an entire song, often pausing to play right next to a particular patron. When the song finished, I clapped wildly, along with everyone else. But before I could ask questions, she began a new tune. The men who had moved the tables began to dance. Some led women on the floor, their feet moving in fast patterns I’d never seen. There weren’t enough women, and I saw Ena turn down more than one dance, but the men didn’t seem to mind, many of them dancing fancy steps on their own.

Ena slid along the wall to stand next to me. “What is this?” she whispered in awe.

“The town tavern,” Otho whispered back, his gaze fixed forward. “The moment the kitchen closes, she begins. Every day.” He turned to me, his hand out. “Dance with me, Runa.”

“I—I don’t know how,” I stuttered.

“It’s easy; I’ll teach you.”

I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t for him to pull me a step away from the wall, his hands sliding down to my hips. “First, step with this leg, now this one. Now again, but faster.”

I did as he directed, shocked at how easy the motions were.

“And that’s it. But you just do that faster, to the rhythm. I’ll make you look good, don’t worry.” He finished his instructions with a wink.

I blushed as he guided me further onto the floor and we began again. I don’t know why, but I never imagined the brooding General of Ralheim would be a good dancer . . . but he was.

While I focused on the steps he’d taught me, repeating them over and over, he spun me this way and that, dipping me every so often. I couldn’t see myself, but I knew Otho hadn’t lied—I looked good.

We danced for the rest of the song, and when it ended, I moved to leave, but Otho pulled me back to his chest. “You can’t just dance one song—it’s rude.”

The musician started another tune, but this one was much slower than the last, and Otho kept me close to his chest, one hand resting on my back, the other holding my hand in his.

It was hard to describe what I was feeling as we slowly drifted around the room to the tune. On one hand, I was so happy I’d finally been taught to dance—something I never would have had the chance to as a child. On the other hand, I felt safe in Otho’s arms. So safe, it scared me.

Because as the song drifted to an end, and Otho guided me to the door, I realized something.