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Chapter 7
Jack
That bottle of oil was burning a hole in my pocket as we stepped out of the portal in Svålgörg, my hometown. Scarlett stopped, squinting at the small tablet with the name of the place. “Sval… gorg?” she asked uncertainly and I grinned at her cute attempt.
“Zvolgerg,” I corrected her, enunciating the rollingrclearly. “With harder sounds. We mountain folk are tough people.”
She gave me an unimpressed look, took a deep breath, and tried again, this time almost getting it right. Blood buzzed in my veins, because Scarlett speaking the sounds of my ancestors’ language was another thing that apparently did it for me.
She was just so full of contradictions. Those blue eyes with long lashes seemed to be made for coy glances, and instead, they glared and sharpened with anger. Her lips, so pink and soft, were destined for sweet smiles and gentle kisses, and instead, they flattened with demand, pronounced the harsh sounds of my language, and kissed with fire that…
That I had no business dwelling on where everyone could see us.
Besides, Scarlett was shivering and that reminded me how woefully unsuited humans were to the mountain climate. When she stepped from foot to foot, clearly cold in her thin shoes, I heaved a sigh. It was a good thing the temple hadn’t stripped me of all my money.
“Come on. We need to get you proper clothes.”
She glared at me, folding her arms on her chest. “What’s wrong with my clothes? Too shoddy for your tastes?”
“Huh,” I muttered, frowning at her. I didn’t even understand how she jumped to that conclusion, but it certainly revealed something. Namely, Scarlett was proud. Which wasn’t a bad thing as long as she could tone it down before her toes fell off.
“I don’t care how patched up your dress is,” I said slowly, hooking my arm around her shoulders so we could move away from the portal in case someone came through. “Though our neighbors are sure to talk if I don’t get you good clothing, so that’s something to consider.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, a bit of a headache gathering in my temple when I thought about thetalkabout to explode all over town when people saw her, the first temple bride on our soil. “What I meant by proper clothes was winter boots lined with fur and a warm coat. And mittens. And a wool hat. Because you’re freezing.”
Scarlett had the decency to flush with embarrassment. “Oh, fine, then. But… I don’t have any money.”
I snorted. So she could be reasonable, even when still holding on to her pride. That boded well for future negotiations.
Another stab of pain shot through my temple when I considered it briefly. A lifetime of negotiating and compromising. Discussing things with her, taking her into consideration in every decision, and if we had children, adding them to the equation… I winced, the sheer enormity of everything married life entailed slamming into me like an avalanche.
I wasn’t ready for all this. I hadn’t even had one hour to prepare myself for the reality of it.
Slowly. Make sure she doesn’t freeze to death first. Or not. Just leave her outside and see how long it takes a human to turn into an icicle.
I glanced at Scarlett with wide eyes, thankful humans had no magic and couldn’t read minds. It wasn’t even a serious thought, just a joke. I was clearly overwhelmed by everything that had happened.
“Right. Boots and a coat,” I said gruffly, taking her hand and leading her down the street from the portal.
It was lunchtime, and the narrow, white-covered streets were mostly empty. And yet, with the Yule Lads Parade coming only in two days, it was busier than usual. I waved at Patrick, who stood on a ladder leaning against the front of his candle and soap shop, hanging a colorful garland of fairy lights over the entrance. His brown tail swished, helping him balance nimbly as he waved back.
Further down the street, Alva and Lucia carried a big basket filled to the brim with wine, the clay bottles clinking with every step. I greeted them when they spotted me, and even as they replied, they couldn’t tear their orange eyes away from Scarlett.
I knew it was rude, but I didn’t stop to introduce her because… What was I going to say?“Hi, second cousin twice removed, Alva! Hi, Alva’s girlfriend, Lucia! Meet my wife. She’s brand new. I got her fresh from the temple this morning!”
Dear Ole Frost’s wrinkly ball sack. No. No way. The wordwifewould simply not pass my lips. I wasn’t ready.
“They, uh, stared a lot,” Scarlett said in a hushed voice when no one else came into view as we walked down the sloping street. I held her elbow, doubting the soles of her shoes were made to prevent slipping, and the packed snow under our feet could be treacherous.
“Well… We don’t get to see many humans up here,” I said and didn’t add that seeing a woman on my arm wasprobablyanother reason why Alva had stared so intently. I hadn’t dated in years, and my last casual hookup was about two years ago.
When you got to a certain age, people had expectations about your relationships. Those expectations included weddings and tufty, giggling babies so… I just didn’t start anything I couldn’t finish.
And I still ended up getting married. Now, wasn’t fate a funny thing?
“Here,” I said, opening the tall door to a respectable fur and leather shop where all Frosts got their winter gear. “Hello, Mister Schmidt.”
The shop owner, who was a kobold, bent his slender body in a respectful greeting. He was about Scarlett’s height, his back hunched, a pair of big purple eyes blinking thoughtfully over a crooked nose. His skin was leathery and pale brown, and so wrinkled, even his wrinkles had wrinkles.
