Page 33 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 33

A nsel leaned over the edge of the cliff to find Lil marching down a zig-zagging set of wooden stairs, and her gang followed single-file. The staircase wobbled, giving Ansel serious doubts about its structural integrity.

“Ready?” Gretta asked.

He’d nearly puked after disembarking from the crane, so he wasn’t about to let her see him squirm over a staircase. He gave her a tight nod.

As they descended, he contemplated the way she’d smoothed her hand over his back when he’d been about to retch. He could still feel her palm on his spine, still felt warmth where she’d touched him. But what the hell did it mean? After their disastrous morning, he couldn’t reconcile her offer of comfort.

Whatever Gretta’s motivations, he’d be a fool to try to interpret them. He may as well read a book in a language he didn’t speak.

Halfway down the cliff side, the robbers disappeared into a dim tunnel lit by torches. Ansel and Gretta remained outside. A wave crashed, spraying cold droplets on the stairs, and Gretta went stiff, her fingers digging into the railing.

The tunnel looked stable enough, but it was low and narrow. Ansel suspected she wouldn’t handle her fear of confined spaces as easily as she did madcap train robbers. He buried the impulse to carry her through in his arms.

“It’s pretty cramped,” she said.

“Yes, but it doesn’t look deep.”

“What if their whole hideout is like this?”

“Don’t you think we should find out?”

She reluctantly nodded and took a step.

Then stopped.

Ansel squeezed his nape. She’d asked him to leave her alone, but one might call this extenuating circumstances. Anyway, they could hardly spend the entire day on the deathtrap of a staircase.

“You can do this,” he said. “And if it gets to be too much, we’ll camp on the bluff.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but you have to try first.”

She sighed heavily, but it came with a firmer nod. They entered the cave, and Ansel stayed close behind her.

“Come on,” Lil called. “We’ll have you snug and fed in no time.”

The tunnel widened as they went on, and Gretta’s steps became surer.

“Who are these people?” Ansel asked to distract her.

“Nereids. Water folk.”

He’d never heard of them. By all indications, they were an aggressive, warlike people, and his protective instincts were sure to be tested.

When the tunnel ended, Lil led them into a yawning stone cavern with a high ceiling and wide ventilation shafts. Gretta’s shoulders relaxed.

“Comfy, right?” Lil asked.

It was, actually. Thick rugs and colorful lanterns kept it from feeling like a cave. A huge fireplace warmed the space, and overstuffed cushions lay scattered about, heaped in piles surrounding knee-high tables.

A smattering of people with long, pastel hair occupied the room. Several had flowers woven into their braids, and their skin tones matched their hair colors. Rather than armor, they wore draped white clothing, and they appeared to be working on craft projects. There wasn’t a weapon in sight. A few offered friendly smiles, and Ansel’s tension eased somewhat.

A pretty young woman with sea foam curls hopped up to help Lil remove her armor. Others came to help the rest of the gang divest.

“What did you bring us today, Waterlily?” the woman asked, peeling away the breastplate. Underneath it, Lil wore a short, diaphanous garment that resembled a nightgown more than a dress.

“Only company this time,” Lil said. “The little one there is going to take care of our problem across the lake.”

Wide aqua eyes turned to Gretta. “You’re going to find Cattail for us?”

“I’ll…try.”

The flare of hope on the woman’s face pained Ansel, and so did the burden it placed on Gretta. There was little chance the missing friend lived. Though justice was likely all they could offer these people, he was suddenly glad they’d come to put the witch down.

Tadpole and Heron approached Gretta.

“We got garden duty before supper,” Tadpole said. “After, we expect to hear all about your Hag Hacker adventures.”

Gretta smiled. Tadpole clapped her back, and Heron shyly patted her shoulder. They hied off through another tunnel.

“I bet you’d like to get settled in,” Lil said. She pulled the curly-haired woman to her side, and draped an arm across her shoulders. “This is River. She’ll show you around.”

“Where will we be spending the night?” Gretta asked.

“We’ll make room for you in our community sleeping chamber.”

“ Community sleeping chamber? As in all of you?”

“It’s real friendly, munchkin, like a slumber party. You’ll love it.”

The look on Gretta’s face indicated she would not, in fact, love it.

Ansel shared the sentiment. “Considering she’s your honored guest, we insist on private quarters.” He glanced at Gretta and added, “ Separate quarters.”

Lil shrugged. “Suit yourselves. Won’t be nothing fancy, though. River, please take…hey, what are your names, anyway?” When they responded, she continued, “Take Ansel to the loot room and Gretta to the armory.”

“I’d be happy to,” River said.

“I better check on things,” Lil said, sighing as if the world would fall apart without her. “After supper, we’ll do it up proper.”

Lil was gone before Gretta could ask what ‘doing it up proper’ meant. River gathered bedding from a nearby trunk and handed them each a lantern. She led them through another tunnel, this one thankfully broad and well-lit by torches.

“So,” River said. “Where do you two come from?”

“The capital.”

“Antrelle.”

“ City people. We don’t get many visitors this far out, but we’re thrilled to have you. Tonight will be a celebration!”

Gretta and Ansel exchanged a look. It had been a long day on top of a long week.

“We appreciate it,” Gretta said. “But you don’t need to put yourselves out on our account.”

River waved her hand. “It’s no trouble at all, we’ll take any opportunity to celebrate. As the goddess teaches, we work hard but seize our pleasures. Speaking of.”

They came upon a couple in the tunnel, and Gretta stumbled a step.

A man with yellow braids leaned against the granite wall, back arching, white robes pooled at his feet. A pink-haired woman knelt before him with his cock so far down her throat, it was a wonder she could breathe.

River brushed her fingertips along the woman’s shoulder blades as they passed, and Gretta gave the couple one last ogle as they rounded a corner.

“Guess you’re not a shy lot,” she said, a bit breathless.

“We believe our bodies are a gift from the goddess and that love should be freely shared.” River’s smile brightened. “Just wait until we start celebrating.”

Gretta glanced at Ansel. Jaw tight, he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.

“I take it you aren’t all related?” Gretta asked.

“Not by blood, but we are a family.”

“So this is a…commune?”

River smiled without responding and stopped at a rustic wooden door. “Here’s the loot room. Next door is the armory. The bathing chamber is at the end of the hall.” She dispersed the bedding between them. “I’ll bring you something to snack on while you rest before supper.”

She patted each of their cheeks, thumb brushing. Gretta found it a tad creepy but didn’t comment.

When River left, Ansel opened the loot room door and turned to Gretta. “I’m going to lay down for a while.”

“Me too.” The day had discombobulated her, and it was barely noon.

He nodded, lingering in the doorway. He looked at her, and she looked back.

Pulse kicking, Gretta opened her mouth to say something—she had no idea what—but he ducked inside and shut the door before anything came out.

Oddly dispirited, she trudged to her room. It was packed with shelves full of weapons, and armor hung from hooks on the wall. It was cramped, but it would do for a night.

Gretta dumped her bag and set her lantern on a footstool. Making her bed took all of three minutes, and when she finished, she stretched out, ankles crossed, and stared at a broken crossbow propped in the corner.

There was zero chance she’d nap. The day had been bizarre, yet all she could think about was Ansel. Her rapidly evolving perspective on him far out-weirded the nereid train heist.

But was it really all that weird? He’d taken on a sword-wielding madwoman for her. He’d promised to camp outside with her if the tunnel proved too terrifying. He’d even insisted on going with her to a witch, one who wouldn’t be plying them with cookies and dandelion wine.

Then there were the previous two nights…

She’d already realized she’d stopped hating him. Now? She was pretty sure she liked Ansel.

This version of him.

He’d changed, but not in the ways that mattered. He was still protective and comforting. He had a way of making her feel like they were on a team. That morning, in all her hungover glory, she’d shit on him bad, and he still treated her like a friend.

Logically, she knew what he’d done to her was unforgivable, but what if Isobel was right? What if Ansel wasn’t a bad person but a flawed one who’d made a mistake? God knew Gretta had made her fair share.

So fuck it. She did forgive him. Grudges had always been her fuel, energizing and focusing her, but letting go of this one made her feel lighter.

But what was she supposed to do with this development?

Gretta covered her face with her hands and swiped hair off her forehead.

She knew the answer. The thought of talking to him about this made her gut twist, but what good was forgiveness if the other party didn’t know they’d been forgiven?

Besides. She missed her best friend. Wasn’t reclaiming him worth an uncomfortable conversation?

Decided, she got to her feet. Waiting wouldn’t make it easier, and she might not get a better chance. Gretta slipped from her room and knocked on his door.

After several raps, she wondered if he’d managed to fall asleep. When she was about to turn back in defeat, she heard movement in his room.

He whipped open the door. “What?”

Gretta sucked in a breath and released it on a pitiful puff of air.

Her nose was inches from his chest—his naked chest. In the corridor’s flickery torchlight, it seemed cast in bronze, burnished and unyielding, forged by fire. He looked less like a bookish scientist and more like some ancient god of hedonism. The line of hair trailing into his low-slung trousers demanded she follow it to otherworldly delights.

She’d seen his chest before, of course. But frame of mind was everything.

As she stood there wide-eyed and mute, he alertly scanned the corridor. “What’s wrong?”

Problem Two is what’s wrong! Instead of formulating coherent words about forgiveness, she was gawking at his body, devising clever ways to touch him again. If he let her do it while in his lap, all the better.

“Um,” she said.

He looked at her askance. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. I need to talk to you.”

“Can’t it wait until later?”

“No.” If she waited, she’d lose her nerve. Hopefully, he’d put a shirt on so she could think clearly.

Or not.

“I’m beat, Gretta.”

“It’s important. Can I come in?”

He slumped against the door frame, arms crossed. His hips canted at a rakish angle, and a tiny gap formed between his abdomen and waistband. Gretta wasn’t sure she’d ever swallow properly again.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to be alone with me,” he said. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll violate of you?”

She winced, wishing he’d invent a time machine so she could go back to that morning and smack herself. Had she even properly apologized for asking if he’d ‘done things’ to her? “I shouldn’t have said that, I knew it wasn’t true before it came out.” She picked at her fingernail. “I’m sorry.”

His expression remained skeptical, but his shoulders relaxed.

“Please,” she said. “Can I come in?”

He studied her a moment longer. Then he shrugged. Turning his back, he entered the room, and she followed him inside.

Ansel sat on the edge of a cluttered table and dug the heel of his palm into his eye socket. He had no energy for conversation, but Gretta was stubborn as a terrier when she’d made up her mind to do something.

She shut the door and huddled against it. Appearing fascinated with items on a shelf, she picked up a gold candlestick.

“Gretta, what is it?”

The candlestick went back on the shelf. She repositioned it and ran her fingertips over a silver clock. Ansel crossed his arms.

Abandoning the items with a sigh, she said, “Basically, I wanted to tell you…” She inhaled deep. “I want you to know that I…”

“What?”

“I forgive you.”

Ansel didn’t so much as blink. If he hadn’t been sitting on the table, he might have fallen to the floor in shock. “You forgive me?”

She nodded.

He stared at her dumbly because he had no idea how to respond. Of all the possible things she could have said, he hadn’t remotely considered this. After their morning, it was a gift he hadn’t expected to receive, one he wasn’t sure he deserved. Despite the emotional ride she’d set him on, he wouldn’t turn it away.

“Thank you,” he said, voice rough. “Truly.”

“Anyway. I just wanted you to know. I hope this makes things easier between us?”

“It will,” he said, amazed how much lighter he felt. “It does.”

Gretta smiled with a firm nod. Except for their breathing, silence filled the room. Her eyes trailed off his face, down his throat, to his left pectoral. A flush brightened her cheeks.

When her full bottom lip tucked between her teeth, Ansel’s cursed cock stirred. Belatedly, he realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Neck hot, he snatched his shirt off the floor and pulled it on. “Sorry.”

“Inside out.”

He whipped it off and put it on properly.

More silence. More staring. His eyes strayed to her mouth, her throat, and lower. Another twitch came between his legs.

You’re pathetic and depraved.

Those words didn’t begin to describe him. She’d come to offer forgiveness, the exact thing he’d longed for, and in turn, he leered at her on the verge of a hard-on.

This was why he shouldn’t be alone with her, no matter how well they mended fences. Besides inspiring emotional whiplash, she turned him into a horny piece of shit. If he wasn’t careful, his cock would destroy their newly-formed truce.

He would not give her a new reason to hate him again.

“Well…” she said. “I guess I’ll see you at supper.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “See you at supper.”