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Welcome

Anya

“ Y ou were right,” I said to Idris around noon the next day.

The morning had been frosty, both between us and before us. Ice glittered on the hills ahead, crunching under Briar’s hoof-steps. The cloudless, pale blue sky had left me feeling exposed, nowhere to hide in the heatless sunshine.

The silent miles following our departure from the village had allowed me plenty of time to ruminate on Idris’s comments from last night, plenty of time to draw parallels between his observations and Hattie’s continual chiding for the ways in which I overextended myself.

I’d eventually come to the conclusion that Idris hadn’t been criticizing me for what I’d done for Tura, but the way I’d helped her, eager to jump into that old familiar role, to lose myself in someone else’s problem. It had been a comfort, to feel in control. To pretend I was capable. He’d seen through that veneer, and I’d gotten defensive.

“Last night, I mean,” I clarified.

He glanced up at me from where he walked beside Briar. “I was an ass.”

“You were hungover, tired. But you weren’t wrong.”

He faced forward again, giving Briar’s neck a firm pat. “Don’t make excuses for my tactlessness.”

I laughed. “To be honest, you sounded like Hattie.”

That earned me another glance, this one wry. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” I said. “She lacks tact, too, but she’s almost always right.”

That time, we both laughed.

From there, the day unfolded with more amiability, Idris and I trading off in the saddle as we ventured through the rolling countryside. The air was bitter, stinging my cheeks and making the tips of my fingers and toes ache, but at least there wasn’t any wind.

Rural folks waved at us on occasion, no-doubt recognizing Idris’s breastplate from the rumors from Brine. We passed the occasional traveler along the High Road— merchants, messengers—but other than that, it was just us again.

The contrast between the past few nights socializing with excitable townsfolk and villagers made me realize how at ease I’d become in Idris’s presence. By managing the logistics of our travels, Idris had given me the opportunity to worry about myself for a change—and worry, I had . The closer we got to Fenrir, the more wracked with worry I became—but the weight of that worry wasn’t so heavy without others’ worries heaped on top of it.

I found I quite liked being cared for, looked after. Even if Idris was doing it mostly out of duty to the realm and not out of any deeper affection.

Fates , I think I wanted his affection, though.

As night fell, Idris grasped Briar’s reins and led us off the High Road into a cluster of small pines and old madrone trees. I’d been expecting another night on the cold ground—dreading it, really, after two consecutive nights cozied up indoors—but as we passed through the shelter of bristly branches, we ended up in a clearing with a small rectangular shape up ahead.

Peering into the haze of dusk and not quite believing what I saw, I asked, “What’s this?”

“A secret among knights,” Idris said. “We call it the One Week Cabin, as it’s located seven nights from Fenrir.”

“Clever,” I quipped. “Are you sure I’m allowed to be privy to such secrets?”

I swung out of the saddle, pins and needles lancing up through my frozen shins when I landed. I stumbled forward, and Idris caught me by the waist, steadying me.

Then he stepped back, gesturing at the single-room structure. “It’s not that much of a secret,” he admitted. “Just a waypoint for knights on the road. It’s mostly reserved for Knights of the Order of the Mighty, because they’re fragile city dwellers unaccustomed to nature, but I have an in.”

I lifted Briar’s reins over his head and led him toward a small corral attached to the south side of the cabin. “Does your in know you think of them as a fragile city dweller?”

Idris grunted a laugh, breath clouding his face. “I tell him every chance I get.”

I pursed my lips, trying to imagine this friend of his.

He circled Briar to begin unfastening the saddle bags. From over the horse’s back, his eyes roved over my expression. “What?”

“Just never thought of you having a friend ,” I said.

Idris un-cinched the saddle, next, and rested it on the railing. “I’m full of surprises.”

Once Briar had been tended to, Idris and I walked up the two creaky steps to the cabin and opened the door.

The place was small and pleasantly cozy, with a worn rug on the stone floor and a four-poster bed piled rather luxuriously with furs and blankets. A table and two chairs were arranged under the single window by the door, and a lantern rested atop it.

“This is… nice ,” I said, dumping my pack by the door and walking father into the space. “Nicer than I expected.”

“Mighty Knights consider this roughing it.”

“Sounds like you have quite the feud.”

“Impossible to have a feud when there’s a clear winner.”

I chuckled, walking over to the woodstove to get a flame going for some heat. With the sundown, the cabin was downright frigid—but thankfully, there was already a stack of wood on the floor, ready for use.

While I stoked the fire, Idris lit the lantern, then removed his cloak, breastplate, and weapons, taking special care as he laid Halgren across the worn wooden tabletop. I stole a glance or two as he organized his gear, watching the corded muscle of his back and shoulders shift beneath the dark green linen of his shirt. The laces along the neckline were undone, and the collar gaped, allowing me a glimpse of his tattoo around his collarbones and the gnarly-looking scar across his right pectoral. Not for the first time, I wondered how he got that scar, how he survived it.

When he was done, he sank down on the bed, palms resting on his knees. “Are you hungry?” Idris asked.

We’d eaten just an hour earlier, on the road, finishing off an excess of hand-pies that Tura had given us this morning. “No, mostly just tired. You?”

“Same. Tired.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the woodstove. “Thanks for doing that.”

I brushed the ash off my hands and went to my pack, busying myself with my own gear. “It’s freezing in here.”

“Not for long,” he said gratefully.

Sitting with my back to him on the opposite side of the bed, I pulled the tie from my braid and shook out my hair, then began unlacing my boots.

Silence spread.

Without a tent to set up or dinner to distract me, there wasn’t much else to do but take note of the cramped proximity of the cabin, the single bed we’d have to share. This wasn’t like camping, with the constant trickle of the river and the scuttling of nocturnal animals to fill the gaps in conversation. In here, the loudest sounds were the fire in the woodstove and us —our voices, our breaths, our hearts beating.

This felt far more intimate than camping.

“It must be a relief not to have to field questions from excitable villagers tonight,” I said—a painfully obvious observation. Normally, my conversational skills were better than this, but he was right, the tiny room was heating up fast; I felt flushed all over.

“You have no idea,” he said with a chuckle, removing his boots and then— Fates spare me —his shirt, too.

I heard him do it: the whoosh of fabric. I peeked over my shoulder and saw the wide expanse of his back, a rugged topography of muscle and pale scarring—then I promptly faced away again, blushing furiously, biting my lips together with my teeth.

Get it together, Anya .

While he slid underneath the covers, I stood, buying myself just a moment’s more distance by extinguishing the lantern. The room filled with shadow, save for the beam of silver moonlight that streamed through the window. I then circled round to my side of the bed again, and quickly removed my outer clothes, leaving my chemise on. Finally, with unnecessary delicacy, I lifted the blanket and settled in beside Idris.

We both rested on our backs, bodies rigid. We did not touch, but I could feel the heat emanating from his bare skin mere inches away. My own skin tingled with the urge to feel how firm and warm his body was. But I kept my hands where they were: resting awkwardly at my sides.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. I wondered if he was, too, alone with me in the dark for the first time since Brine.

Normally, I didn’t feel so self-conscious around the opposite sex, but our foolhardy attraction wasn’t like the casual, straightforward dalliances I’d had before. The complication of our tangled Fate hadn’t pushed us apart but—inexplicably—had brought us closer. Forced us to be vulnerable, to be honest, and to see each other for who we were , not for the people we wanted to be.

After weeks on the road together, I had developed a craving for his nearness that now resembled something close to desperation. I could hear the rapid beat of his heart, as if he were running miles in his head, too; ignoring such a sound all night was going to be torture.

What I wouldn’t give to lavish you , he’d said.

Do you mean ravish?

Whatever you want .

His drunken words might’ve been honest, but that didn’t mean that in his right mind he intended to act on them. I wanted him to act on them, though. I wasn’t sure when I’d become so desirous—perhaps when I watched him almost die in that barn—but I burned with urgency now, and I had to know if these feelings were at all mutual.

“Idris?” I whispered.

“Yes?”

“How much do you remember of our night at the Lark?”

He became even stiller than he already had been. With my magic, I heard the uptick of his heartbeat, a song growing in fervor.

“I wasn’t so drunk that I don’t remember our conversation,” he said, then sighed at length. “I’m sorry. I had no intention of making you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.”

“Well, as for tonight”—he cleared his throat—“I have no intentions to…” He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. “I mean, I know you don’t want—”

“How do you know that?” I rolled onto my side, propping my head up to regard him more fully. “What did I say to make you think—”

“Anya,” he said patiently, dotingly. “I was in your Mirror.”

“You said yourself that our Fate can change— warp .”

“I did. It can. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t…doomed.”

“Are you saying you plan to murder me, after all?” I meant it lightly, but my tone betrayed my heartache.

He chuckled, though, mercifully. “No, I don’t.” His tone sobered. “But there are plenty of other reasons that two people can be wrong for each other.”

Wrong .

I rolled onto my back again, facing the ceiling, blinking rapidly. The sense of rejection I’d grown so accustomed to with Remy—always keeping me at an emotional arm’s length—was a familiar clamshell closing over my heart now. I might’ve pretended Remy’s distance didn’t bother me, but the truth was, I’d spent all that time wondering why . What was it about me that made him not want to commit? Plenty of men had taken interest in me over the years, but as soon as I was ready to get close to one, I was pushed away.

But then Idris turned to face me, elbow bent, head resting on his fist. Studying me. I could feel his gaze roving over the tightness of my mouth, the wateriness of my eyes. I suddenly felt so stupid. Coming onto my killer, only for him to reject me. Oh , how this quest had reduced me.

With my magic still open to him, however, I heard his heart pound even faster.

He cleared his throat again. “I think you’ve mistook my meaning,” he said. “My Oath…”

I looked at him in time to catch the slight clench of his jaw.

“I live a solitary life, Anya.”

“Is yours an Oath of celibacy?”

He spluttered. “ Fates , Anya, no .” He rolled onto his back and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman.” He sounded frustrated—not with me, but himself.

The reference to our inside joke encouraged me. The stampeding of his heart did, too. Maybe he wasn’t pushing me away; maybe his responsibility was holding him back. Desire against duty.

I turned onto my side again. “Suppose you weren’t a gentleman, though,” I ventured.

His hand—which had been covering his mouth, scratching his jaw—fell to the bedspread. He regarded me, pupils blowing out his irises. I couldn’t tell if the dark expression was warning or ravenous. Maybe both.

Either way, it made me ache .

“I’m trying to do the right thing,” he said.

“What if you stopped trying?” I whispered, my own heart racing in time with his. “Just for the night?”