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His wife talked easy of love. Love was foreign to him. He knew nothing of love, expected nothing from it since he had never known it. And yet? He was curious about it, having seen men and women act foolishly over what they believed was love. Though he believed most men mistook lust for love.
“Your thoughts are heavy,” Fia said. “Can I help lighten them?”
Would a healer know? He decided to find out. “What is the difference between lust and love?”
Fia smiled, the answer coming easily to her. “Lust is fleeting. Love is forever.”
“You will love forever?” he asked, a tightness in his chest at the thought of being loved that strongly, never doubting it, love always being there no matter what.
“Aye.” Her smile grew. “Forever and ever.”
“How can you be sure?”
She shrugged. “That’s the strange part. I can’t be sure, yet I am confident my heart will not fail me.”
“Do you forget you are already wed?” he asked with annoyance. “And if stuck with me, you will never know love.”
Her smile softened. “That would not stop me from loving you.”
He glared at her. “Of course, you would. It is your duty as my wife.”
“Someone cannot be forced to love out of duty.”
“Then why love me?”
“Why not love you?” she asked.
“I would not love you,” he snapped.
“Why not love me?”
“Enough foolishness!” he said and stood. “It is time for sleep. We get an early start in the morning.”
“As you say, my lord,” Fia said and cleaned the remnants of the meal off the table, her husband leaving the table where it sat, but moved the bench to rest against the wall.
She wondered about the sleeping arrangements. After all, she was his wife. They could share a bed. When he went to the bench and sat, his body relaxing back against the wall, she knew that was where he meant to sleep, uncomfortable as it would be.
Fia said nothing to him. Leaving her garments on, she got into bed and wrapped the blanket tight around her and she was soon asleep.
Varrick stared at his wife, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber.
She had annoyed him when she told him she would love him if they were somehow stuck with each other. He did not need her pity. He closed his eyes and cleared his head of thoughts so sleep would come quickly. He learned to do that out of necessity when young. If he did not get enough sleep, did not have the strength to do his chores, he suffered for it. It helped when a battle ensued for days or weeks. He would grab what sleep he could as quickly as he could to regain his strength. It was about survival. He had survived much, and he would survive a witch.
* * *
“Varrick, help! Help me!”
His eyes shot open, and he bolted off the bench seeing the bed empty. Fear rushed through him, taking hold, squeezing him, tearing at his heart.
“Fia!” he shouted, seeing her nowhere in the cottage.
“Varrick!” came her cry again.
He yanked open the door and ran out into heavily falling snow. “Fia!”
“Save me, Varrick! Save me!”
Varrick turned in circles unable to see through the snow and darkness and roared, “Where are you, Fia?”
