color in her cheeks. But when she stopped, her shoulders sagged. Her doe-eyes turned down to the floor. “What’s to become of me?”
He went to her and sat on the pallet beside her. He started to reach for her, but remembering his vow, stopped before he touched her.
She lifted her gaze to his, and it felt like a thread went taut between them. It pulled at his stomach, unsettling him even as it seemed to anchor him. She felt like his . But she wasn’t. She belonged to the king.
“You are not my prisoner,” he told her. “I am your servant.”
She frowned. “I should be your servant. I owe you my life.”
“You’ll serve no one. Not ever again. You will want for nothing. This I swear. But first, I must take you to Chroina. It’s not safe for you anywhere else. It’s a long journey, and we should leave soon. There may be Larnians tracking us. That’s why I burned your dress. Less scent for them to follow.”
She searched his eyes and must have found what she’d been looking for, because she nodded. “Well, I canna go in naught but your shirt. What am I to wear, o’ servant of mine?”
His heart turned over. She was so brave. Crippled and lost, she had nothing left to her, not even the clothes on her back. Nothing but the magical gemstone curled in her fist. Yet she gave him her trust.
He would not fail her. He could not. Not when the survival of his people depended on her womb.
Chapter 5
Anya sat on the bed and watched Riggs paw through the large chest in the corner near the fireplace. He was looking for clothing he’d worn as a lad, he’d told her. While he searched, she uncurled her fist and studied the smooth amethyst gem Gravois had given her. When she held it, she and Riggs could understand each other. Like magic. Had Gravois known what would happen to her?
“Your destiny lies elsewhere,” he’d told her. “There is a place for you. Perhaps you will find it if you take a leap of faith.”
Or if a meddling magic box gave her a push.
Did her destiny lie here with this man? She looked around his cabin, feeling quite at home already. She could be content standing at that broad, stone hearth to boil coney stew. She could be content in this pallet beneath the brawny body of the most powerfully built man she’d ever met. Aye. She could belong in this place.
But he’d said they had to leave. He intended to take her to a place called Chroina that was far from here. For her safety, he claimed. Likely ’twas because he didn’t want her. She didn’t blame him, but that didn’t keep his rejection from stinging.
A thumping sound made her look up. Riggs had dropped a pair of heavy-looking boots at her feet.
“Here.” He set a stack of folded clothing on the bed and toed the boots closer. He was taking great care not to touch her again. That stung too. She liked it better when he was gaz ing fondly at her and stealing private caresses, however brief.
He opened the door to the sound of chirping birds greeting the day with enthusiasm. Only a mild ache remained from the knock to her head yesterday, thank the saints. A night of rest had done her well.
“There’s bread and tea over there.” He indicated the hearth. “I’ll be gone a while. When I return, we leave for Chroina.” He left, closing the door behind him.
“Man of bloody few words.” At least she could understand them now.
She grabbed the clothing he’d left her and shook out a pair of trews cut from heavy canvas, then a sturdy linen shirt. Both smelled like cedar and clean dog. Thankfully, they were sized much smaller than the shirt she currently wore. She stripped and put on Riggs’s old clothes, tucking in the shirt. The fit was reasonable, though the trews were wide in the waist and required rolling at the ankle. Not to mention, it felt odd sheathing her legs like a man from the Lowlands. The seams scratched her skin and felt thick between her thighs. The deep pocket on her right hip provided a safe home for the
He went to her and sat on the pallet beside her. He started to reach for her, but remembering his vow, stopped before he touched her.
She lifted her gaze to his, and it felt like a thread went taut between them. It pulled at his stomach, unsettling him even as it seemed to anchor him. She felt like his . But she wasn’t. She belonged to the king.
“You are not my prisoner,” he told her. “I am your servant.”
She frowned. “I should be your servant. I owe you my life.”
“You’ll serve no one. Not ever again. You will want for nothing. This I swear. But first, I must take you to Chroina. It’s not safe for you anywhere else. It’s a long journey, and we should leave soon. There may be Larnians tracking us. That’s why I burned your dress. Less scent for them to follow.”
She searched his eyes and must have found what she’d been looking for, because she nodded. “Well, I canna go in naught but your shirt. What am I to wear, o’ servant of mine?”
His heart turned over. She was so brave. Crippled and lost, she had nothing left to her, not even the clothes on her back. Nothing but the magical gemstone curled in her fist. Yet she gave him her trust.
He would not fail her. He could not. Not when the survival of his people depended on her womb.
Chapter 5
Anya sat on the bed and watched Riggs paw through the large chest in the corner near the fireplace. He was looking for clothing he’d worn as a lad, he’d told her. While he searched, she uncurled her fist and studied the smooth amethyst gem Gravois had given her. When she held it, she and Riggs could understand each other. Like magic. Had Gravois known what would happen to her?
“Your destiny lies elsewhere,” he’d told her. “There is a place for you. Perhaps you will find it if you take a leap of faith.”
Or if a meddling magic box gave her a push.
Did her destiny lie here with this man? She looked around his cabin, feeling quite at home already. She could be content standing at that broad, stone hearth to boil coney stew. She could be content in this pallet beneath the brawny body of the most powerfully built man she’d ever met. Aye. She could belong in this place.
But he’d said they had to leave. He intended to take her to a place called Chroina that was far from here. For her safety, he claimed. Likely ’twas because he didn’t want her. She didn’t blame him, but that didn’t keep his rejection from stinging.
A thumping sound made her look up. Riggs had dropped a pair of heavy-looking boots at her feet.
“Here.” He set a stack of folded clothing on the bed and toed the boots closer. He was taking great care not to touch her again. That stung too. She liked it better when he was gaz ing fondly at her and stealing private caresses, however brief.
He opened the door to the sound of chirping birds greeting the day with enthusiasm. Only a mild ache remained from the knock to her head yesterday, thank the saints. A night of rest had done her well.
“There’s bread and tea over there.” He indicated the hearth. “I’ll be gone a while. When I return, we leave for Chroina.” He left, closing the door behind him.
“Man of bloody few words.” At least she could understand them now.
She grabbed the clothing he’d left her and shook out a pair of trews cut from heavy canvas, then a sturdy linen shirt. Both smelled like cedar and clean dog. Thankfully, they were sized much smaller than the shirt she currently wore. She stripped and put on Riggs’s old clothes, tucking in the shirt. The fit was reasonable, though the trews were wide in the waist and required rolling at the ankle. Not to mention, it felt odd sheathing her legs like a man from the Lowlands. The seams scratched her skin and felt thick between her thighs. The deep pocket on her right hip provided a safe home for the
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