Page 18 of The Silversmith

“We’ll travel to Tovick,” continued Gemma, “rest for a few days, then move on to Brinnea, where Simeon’s waiting for you.”

“And after Brinnea?” I asked.

“You’ll stay in Brinnea with Simeon for as long as he deems fit. Then we all go west, to the Caves.” Gemma smiled as if expecting me to share her excitement. “To take you home.”

I looked up at Smyth, towering over the table, one hand rubbing his bearded chin, expression stoic and guarded as he fixated on the map. Odd, that he was so quiet. That he let Gemma and Finn take the reins on explaining this to me while he stood back, silently assessing.

“Why doesn’t Simeon go straight to the Winterton Caves in Avendrel?” I asked. “Would that not save time? We’re adding at least three weeks to the journey when we could be at the Caves in just over a week.”

Gemma shrugged. “Simeon has his reasons. I imagine he wants time alone with his daughter first.”

“And we listen to him without question?” I felt Smyth’s eyes dart to me when I spoke, that unfamiliar defiance settling in my chest, nagging me.

“No.” Smyth’s deep timbre sliced through me. “But you need time before you go to those caves, so we’ll go to Brinnea.”

Ultimately, I agreed. Not because Smyth said so, but because he was right. Though I was beyond nervous to meet Simeon, extra time to process, to learn and grow, felt like exactly what I needed.

Deciding to retire early, I washed up in the tub and allowed Gemma to help, if only to keep my bandaged arm from getting wet. The goose egg on my temple was gone, bright blue-and-green hues already yellowing the edge. Thankfully, I wasn’t concussed. That wolf had tossed me against that feed barrel with vicious fervor. Perhaps my body was more resilient than I thought.

“Both bedrooms are open for whoever wants them.” I skirted across the floor in my slippers, old wood squeaking and settling beneath even my light weight.

Finn looked up from a book I’d read at least ten times and lifted a curious eyebrow.

“Ary,” Gemma began as I rearranged my blankets. “Maybe you should—”

“That’s where you’ve been sleeping?” Smyth snapped, eyes blazing. “On the floor?” I swear he growled. “Like a dog?”

I nodded and rubbed at my elbow, embarrassment snaking up my spine. “I like sleeping here.”

He cursed under his breath. I couldn’t make sense of the rest of his angry grumbles, but I knew they weren’t nice. Why did this grumpy, attractive man care where I slept? His concern over my diet was one thing. Eating nothing but eggs and broth for three months straight was, at best, mildly concerning in any stranger’s eyes.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“No.” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “The floor is hard and cold, even by the fire.”

“My mother didn’t mind—”

“Your mother isn’t here.”

Trepidation trickled through my veins. His intensity could eclipse anyone else within a fifty mile radius. And yet, I felt… ignited.

“Fine.” I stood and folded my hands in my lap. “If you feel the need to make any more obtrusive demands, you know where to find me.” I turned, each step toward the bedroom requiring unreasonable effort. The embers in my chest were not borne of anger, but fervor. It felt good to be defended. To be cared about enough that a perceived mistreatment made him angry. Gemma cared, but this was different. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and I liked it.

As my hand tightened firmly on the doorknob, I turned to see him studying my form with an impenetrable gaze. I swallowed down my nerves and added, “Just make sure you knock first.”

I closed the door behind me and pressed my back against it, unsure how to quell the strange, defiant excitement flickering to life inside me.

And wondered if I even wanted to.

***

An hour later, Gemma joined me in the bedroom. I’d waited for her on the bed with my bony knees tucked into my chest in a desperate attempt to comfort myself.

“You could have gone hunting with Finn today,” I sighed. “I would have been fine.”

Gemma sat behind me and brushed my hair, smoothing any knots into silver-blonde silk. “No.” She clicked her tongue twice in thought. “I wasn’t leaving you with that beast.”