Page 34

Her eyes widened when the treasure shifted, and his head ducked out, coins rolling from his head to allow him through. A red carved jewel spun on his snout before just resting there right behind one of his flared nostrils.

“Rurik will be just fine. Why are you shouting in my cave when I am trying to slumber?”

He rested his head against the ground littered with coins, his eyes lazy, like he might fall back asleep any moment.

“I require food. I have not eaten today.”

“Was wondering when I would have to feed mypet,” he answered, but he didn’t get up, instead choosing to curl his head towards where the rest of his body must be under the pile of coins. “You must wander my tunnels some more if you seek food. I have collected fruits and vegetables from the town nearby. There is also a cow carcass in the same room.”

Her stomach grumbled loudly, as if the mention of food gave it a voice.

“Will you not show me?” When he didn’t respond for a long time, she slumped her shoulders. Her heart felt like it was going to ache worse than it already did. “Please? I do not remember the last time I ate or drank any water.”

Rurik turned his head back to her with the intention of telling hernoonce more. His eyes were still lazy, and his body was beyond comfortable and relaxed. Then he saw the crestfallen face she held, the kind where she looked tired and emotionally worn.

“Fine!” He stood, letting everything fall off him as he gave his body a small shake. “I will show you.”

She showed me kindness in her cottage, fed me and made sure I had water.He could at least do the same for her.

He led her towards the entrance of his lair.

He knew she must not have gone this way if she hadn’t come across it yet.

Motioning his scaled hand towards the particular room, he waited on the outside for her to enter. If he wanted to, he could have occupied the space with her, but he didn’t want to get in the way nor be particularly close to her.

“Thank you.”

She surprised him by nodding her head in his direction before she entered.

Sitting down with his head in the exit, he watched her move about the room and check all the different baskets of food there were. She seemed to ignore the cow dead on its side in the corner.

He noticed her eyes often found his, like she was wary of him. He wondered if he’d managed to give her a scare earlier.

He also realised the once chatty female was now silent.

“You have yet to tell me your name,” he commented, tilting his head in question.

“Amalia Swafford,” she answered, pulling the skirt of her dress forward to pile different vegetables into it.

He waited for her to continue.

When she didn’t, he asked, “Do you not have a title?”

She stopped to frown at a potato in her hand. “Why would I have a title? I was considered a peasant.”

He twisted his head the other way.

“I mean among Witches. What did your coven call you?”

“What is a coven?”

His head shot up, his gaze assessing the woman in his keeping.

“You are jesting, right?”

“No.” Then she gestured to everything she collected in her skirt. “Should I be collecting food for you as well?”

His spiked brow creased. “Why should you?”