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Heart hammering in my chest, I muttered an apology and dashed for the kitchen, ignoring the connections between me and everyone else turning red around me. Behind me Yurtin yelled after me.

“You better bring back a full mug of cider with a sweet smile, Ruly girl, or I will make you regret it!”

My stomach twisted as I burst through the kitchen door. The cook straightened from bending over the open hearth, his face flushed from the heat of the fire. “Hope no one wants stew. The turnips are too tough yet.”

I shook my head. “Just cider.” My stomach revolted at the words. Yurtin wanted more than cider though—much more. My stomach churned as I worked to suppress my rising nausea. Panic gripped my chest as I clutched my soiled hand to my middle. Lurching across the room, I grabbed a clean mug from the shelves near the back door before stumbling through and out into the yard under the guise of fetching the cider.

Behind me a chilly breeze whipped through the yard, slamming the door and stealing my remaining breath. I gasped, dragging air into my lungs like a drowning woman. A sob escaped as I closed my eyes for a breath to push away the disgusting images.

Leaving the mug on the top of the cider barrel, I darted for the water pump and pumped it furiously. Fresh, frigid spring water gushed forth fitfully. Thrusting my contaminated hand beneath the icy flood, I began scrubbing it briskly, but the images wouldn’t wash away from my mind.

“What did he do?” Kent’s voice cut through my panic.

I hadn’t heard the door open and close behind me, but he was there, striding through the dimness of twilight like a specter of night with his cloak flaring in the breeze. My heart jumped into my throat as he caught my wrist in his gloved hand. Turning me so that my hand was visible in the dim light of the lantern over the cider barrel, he lifted it so he could examine it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice had taken on a rough edge.

I swallowed. “No.” The one word wavered, sounding pathetically uncertain.

He muttered something and shoved his hood off his head and bent closer to inspect my cold-burned fingers.

I glimpsed a firm jaw covered by a neatly trimmed beard, chiseled cheekbones, a straight nose, and the dark slashes of his eyebrows before he turned so his face was in shadow again. Dark hair fell over his brow in longish waves.

“He—” I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “He didn’t hurt me, but he w-wanted to.”

“You’re a telepath?”

“Empath. Touch enhances the connection.”

He followed my gaze to his grip on my wrist.

“Sorry.” Dropping the contact, he stepped back swiftly with an inhuman grace I hadn’t noticed before. He frowned and glared at his glove as though it had somehow betrayed him.

“Rue!” Misha pushed the kitchen door open so violently that it slammed against the exterior wall. The impact of wood against wood echoed through the night.

Kent and I both turned toward the whack before I caught Kent’s cloak edge and tugged. “Your hood.”

He turned away from the tavern and pulled his hood up over his head.

Misha peered at us in the dimness. “Get in here, you useless lump. Yurtin is bellowing for his cider, and if you think I am going to be covering for you, brat, you best think again. I am tired of picking up your slack.”

Kent swung around with his hand fisted, but I caught his arm as he turned. He dragged me a few inches before he stopped resisting and gazed down at me gripping his forearm.

I peered up into the darkness of his hooded face. “Don’t. Her words are merely words,” I hissed up at him urgently.

The muscled forearm beneath my hands tensed and twisted as he tightened his fingers. “Words matter, Rue.”

“She is unarmed.”

“I will not hurt her.” The words held a magical weight that heated the air between us. “I promise.”

“Coming,” I called to Misha, who scoffed and went back inside, slamming the door behind her.

I released Kent and headed toward the barrel of cider and the mug I had brought out to fill. When I turned back to ask him if he wanted more cider also, he was already gone. I hadn’t heard him move, but when I entered the common room, he sat in his corner glaring at Yurtin in warning from across the room.

Chapter Four

Kent