I shrugged off the question. “Just heard it around somewhere, I think.”
“Hmm.” She sounded suspicious, but she didn’t question me further. “If you want to pull her into your arms and grope her in her sleep, I wouldn’t mind, you know. It’d do her good to get a little sexual experience. I keep telling her that if she’d just get laid, it’d remove that stick from her ass. But she never does. So, feel free to get a little physical if you like.”
Which meant that was exactly what I wouldn’t do.
“Thanks for your permission,” I muttered dryly.
“Anytime. You’re really taking it slow and not rushing anything in this wooing-her business, aren’t you?” she added, sounding irritated by that.
“Didn’t realize I was on a deadline.”
“Life is a deadline, boy,” she warned. “From the moment we’re born, everything is already moving toward our death. Tomorrow is guaranteed to no one. So I suggest you nip it in the bud and get your seduction underway already.”
“Yeah, thanks for the advice…” That I wouldn’t be taking.
“You’re most welcome,” she answered sweetly.
I rolled my eyes toward the stars, then returned my attention to Quilla, who was sleeping peacefully. I could probably return to my bedroll now, but I kind of didn’t want to leave her. Besides, there was a good three feet of space between us. Perfectly respectable. And yet close enough to appease the ache inside me that always wanted to be closer to her.
Smiling contentedly, I rolled onto my back, sighed up at the stars above us, then rested my manacled hands behind my head and eventually fell asleep that way.
Only to wake at the crack of dawn to something slamming viciously into my gut.
“Mother of God!” I gasped, curling in around my stomach and clutching it as I tried to breathe through the pain. “What the hell?”
“What the fuck are you doing over here, sleeping beside me?” a voice ordered from above. Rage flared through my mark.
My true love was pissed.
Shit.
Blinking up at Quilla, I offered her an innocent but pain-filled smile. “You had a nightmare.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” she ground out as she set a booted foot down on my ankle and pressed in until it began to strain uncomfortably. “What the fuck are you doing next to me and not all the way over on your side of the damn camp?”
“I just wanted to soothe you through the nightmare,” I said, gritting my teeth against the pain. Jesus, but the woman had no mercy. She was going to break my ankle if she kept it up. “And I did,” I swore. “I came over and sang to you, and you stopped thrashing. I soothed you.”
The pressure eased from my ankle. “If you ever do that again,” she swore, “I will break something on you that can’t be unbroken. Do I make myself clear? I don’t want you sleeping by me, or touching me, or even breathing—”
“I didn’t touch you,” I promised quickly.
“Liar,” Melaina’s pleasantly vindictive voice called from the other side of the camp. “I saw him, dear heart. He touched your hand and a lock of hair while you slept and couldn’t protest.”
Quilla kicked me in the arm.
“Oww!” I clutched the battered appendage to my side and glowered at Melaina. “Thanks a lot, traitor.”
I wondered what the fiery redhead would’ve told Quilla if I’d taken her permission last night to heart and had fondled her niece in her sleep.
“You’re most welcome,” Melaina crooned back pleasantly.
I rolled my eyes, then looked up at Quilla. “I barely touched you.”
But she’d already turned away, dismissing me.
“Fine! I’ll leave you alone,” I called, growing irritated. “Far be it for me to worry about my one true love when she’s in the throes of a horrific nightmare. I must be some kind of monster for attempting to comfort you. That was simply barbaric and unacceptable of me. Please accept my apologies for such dreadful behavior.”
She totally ignored my sarcastic regret.
I sniffed irritably and retreated to my “side” of the camp, limping to my bedroll and plopping down with an aggravated groan. My muscles were stiff and sore from sleeping half the night on the open ground. Damn bedrolls didn’t feel as if they padded much, but you could always tell when you went without.
Rolling my shoulders and stretching stiff muscles, I dug through my pack and came up with some supplies to assist with my morning ablutions. Then I dragged myself to my feet, rasping, “Not that anyone cares, but I’ll be back.”
Neither woman responded—Quilla was busy coaxing the fire back to life, and Melaina was dragging cooking supplies from her own pack. They definitely liked to snub me. And they didn’t seem to mind at all if I wandered off on my own, either. Which only made me question the cuffs even more. I honestly think they’d forgotten I was wearing them.
Once I was far enough away and hidden by a small thicket of trees, I paused to pull up a necklace that had been hidden under my tunic. Tucking the pendant on the end of the string between my teeth, I held it steady before lifting the cuffs to the pendant and popping open the lock.
“Yes,” I sighed in relief and shed the shackles from my wrists. “That feels so much better.” Rubbing the raw flesh, I enjoyed the moment of freedom before exhaling in delight and freshening myself for the day ahead.
Chapter 12
Indigo
When I returned to the camp, with the cuffs secured safely back around my wrists, I felt awake, relieved, and ready to face whatever came next.
Whistling “Singin’ in the Rain” with a smile on my face, I pulled up short, however, at the sight that met me.
Quilla sat before the fire cross-legged as she looped strips of dough around the end of a stick. With her attention absorbed in her craft, she looked absolutely stunning.
Careful to exact each detail of her project just so as she applied the raw loaf to the spit, she then reached into a bag beside her with a free hand and removed a handful of glittering powder that she sprinkled on top.
Culinary magics. It must be an herbal remedy she’d gotten off some other mage to assist with cooking because as soon as the powder hit the dough, it doubled in size. Satisfied with the new dimensions, Quilla hovered her stick over the fiery coals and proceeded to bake her bread.
Returning to my bedroll, I sat and idly put my things back into my pack as I continued to watch her turn the spit, cooking the loaf evenly.
A second later, her gaze lifted to me, her eyebrows furrowed in disgruntled ire. “What?” she demanded.
My staring was bothering her again. Smiling, I bent up a knee and rested my forearms on it, getting more comfortable so I could keep doing exactly what I was doing.
“You’re cooking,” I said simply, amazed by it all. For someone so bitter and angry at the world, her calm patience as she prepared food sat in stark contrast to everything else I’d observed about her so far. So I found this to be an interesting facet of the woman in front of me.
“Not for you,” she muttered, returning her attention to the dough that was already halfway to becoming bread. “Now stop looking at me.”