Page 18

Chapter ten

H e disappeared for over an hour. After returning, he hardly looked at me for the rest of the night. I tried not to let it bother me, to not feel as if I’d said or done something wrong that upset him or angered him.

I gave my best effort to forget about it and mostly succeeded. I slept hard and without nightmares, thanks to my unyielding exhaustion.

On the morning of the second day, we would pass by the town Caz and Ezra had gone to in search of food, but we weren’t to enter it.

Another, larger village was a few hours beyond that one—Freyburn, it was called—and we would be able to seek a fresh meal and shelter there for the night, as well as stock up on additional clothing and supplies that we— me , in particular—lacked.

I was nervous and eager as we drew closer to Freyburn that evening. Eager for warmth, a fresh meal, and a good night’s rest.

We approached the village around dinnertime.

Wooden structures—some broad and tall, others small and homey—were covered in a dense layer of snow, heavy and wet.

Fresh. Perfect for snowball fights and building figures and animals like I had with Ollie the winter before he passed.

The faded colors of wood were dulled by the thin white blanket but provided a perfect backdrop for the wreaths and holly boughs that villagers placed thoughtfully over windows and thresholds.

“Preparing for the solstice,” Caz explained, walking beside me. “It’s also the day that Simeon and Molochai liberated our lands from the hands of the Rexus dynasty.”

My eyes widened. “They still celebrate, despite… everything?”

“We do.” Caz gestured to a group of children laughing and playing in front of a small oak cabin on the corner of a gravel road. “Molochai has taken enough from us. And many of these more remote villages remain mostly untouched, especially this far north.”

I smiled as a little boy, no older than five or six, formed a snowball in his small hands and tossed it at his older brother, only to squeal and dash away when the playful throw was returned.

“Some of the eastern seaports, like Brinnea,” continued Caz, “have lavish celebrations of their own, but you won’t find this farther southwest.”

Southwest of Avendrel, into Tugaf, where Molochai’s forces were far more dense and in control.

Where the monsters lurked. The map Finn had shown me had marked the Winterton Caves as a barrier between those hellish, southern lands and the moderate safety of the north.

For this reason, I was grateful we headed east to Brinnea to meet Simeon rather than to the Caves.

I needed time, and I was grateful my father—my real father—knew it.

I watched the children—those two boys, and a few more down the road—and fought the sorrow that tightened my throat and nipped at my eyes. What could have been, for Ollie.

“Come with me.”

Gavin’s deep, commanding voice startled me out of my thoughts. He gently nudged my lower back, guiding me toward a line of shops down the village’s main street .

“Keep your hair tucked under your hat,” he leaned down to tell me. “It’s too easy to identify.”

We stopped before a shop with wide windows that exposed a warmth inside I craved. Snowflakes, glistening with dancing torchlight from the street, stuck to holly leaves framing the glass.

“Will they know who I am?”

“Likely not.” Gavin opened the door for me, uncompromising when he said, “But I’m not risking it.”

I nodded and swallowed my embarrassment.

My shame. Did he think my hair was bizarre like I did?

I cursed the gods for not giving me simple, sleek-brown locks.

Or golden-blonde, perhaps. Black, even better—like Gemma’s dark, sensuous curls.

Anything normal. Anything other than the unnatural waves of silver that reached down my back.

I stopped inside the shop’s threshold, wound my hair into a quick, messy bun, and tucked all of it beneath my hat. He watched me do it. And though his steel-walled expression betrayed nothing, I thought I saw his hand flex at his side before he tore his eyes away.

“The others are finding us a table for dinner and rooms at the inn.” He gestured around the shop. “Pick anything you want.”

Eyes wide, I took in the abundance of fabric and color exploding around the shop. Coats, fine dresses, scarves, hats, gloves, blouses, and pants—the shop had all of it. Never had I seen so much clothing, so much luxury packed into a single space.

“ Anything ?” I looked back at him.

“Anything.” Generous, but he remained a colder version of the man whose warm assurances had wrapped so comfortingly around me yesterday.

The owner of the shop—an older, round, cherry-cheeked woman with white hair—stole my attention when she hustled over to greet me. “Good evening, dear.” She smiled brightly. “What can I help you find? ”

“Umm,” I replied, forcing a nervous smile.

Where would I begin with this many options?

I saw a dark-purple, wool-lined, hooded parka and a pair of silver-buckled leather boots with more insulation than my current pair.

Not to mention the wall to my left covered in shawls and hats and scarves and stockings and—

“We know what we’re looking for, thank you,” Gavin stated coldly, shifting closer to my side.

She looked at my massive, gruffly scarred, bearded companion, then back to me—young, small, timid—and suspicion flooded her gentle gaze.

“I am just in the back, dear,” she said with a forced smile.

“Please shout if you need me.” The older woman moved toward a doorway at the back of the building, not without tossing a few worried looks at me from over her shoulder.

Gavin leaned down and sourly muttered, “She thinks I’m your captor.”

“Are you not?” I teased, giggling. “You hardly let me out of your sight.”

“If I was holding you against your will, Aryella, you’d know it.” No hesitation in his dangerous tone. Only simple, brutal truth.

I gulped, cheeks flushed, and began sifting through the shelves and racks of winter wear.

He claimed a new pair of boots was nonnegotiable, so I tried on and chose the silver-buckled, sturdy and sleek black pair.

Before I could tuck them under my arm, he set them on the owner’s counter where I would need to pay.

Pay.

“Oh.” I moved to put the boots back. “I don’t have any money.”

“I said pick anything, did I not?” He returned the boots to the counter. “Did you think I was teasing?”

“I can’t let you—”

“You aren’t letting me do anything.” He ran his hand through his hair. I stole another glimpse of the inked notches that began on the side of his forearm. “I do what I want, Ella, if you haven’t figured that out already.”

I tried not to read into that. Instead, I focused on the circular wooden rack with a colorful array of scarves, each fastened at the top with an impeccable knot and draping down, down, almost touching the floor. One scarf—emerald green with tiny threads of gold dispersed throughout—caught my eye.

“Do you like it?” He nodded toward the green-and-gold fabric draped between my fingers.

I dropped the scarf. “It’s very pretty, but I have a scarf al—”

He grabbed the scarf and draped it around my neck in one swift motion. A matching hat sat on a shelf beside it, which he handed to me.

My eyes flashed wide at the cost. “You can afford this?” I flinched when the invasive question left my lips.

He merely chuckled. No smile. “I’ve had time to accumulate some wealth.”

“You really don’t have to buy all of this for me.”

“Elowen and Simeon clearly neglected to give you what you need.” He studied a pair of very luxurious but sturdy fur-lined leather gloves that would fit me perfectly. An improvement from the threadbare, fleece-lined gloves I’d been wearing. “I’m happy to compensate for their failings.”

Gavin rolled up his sleeves, revealing more ink around his forearms, disappearing beneath his shirt. Tiny beads of sweat glistened above his brow. Built into the wall of the shop was a massive stone fireplace, and the heat had me wishing I could shed a layer or two of my own.

“What do your tattoos mean?” I asked, voice timid. Hoping I wasn’t prying too much.

He studied me, carefully weighing his words before he spoke.

“They’re a reminder of what’s passed.” And before I could press for more— “Do you want or need anything else?” He took a silent inventory of all we’d gathered and gave a satisfied nod.

“I’m sure the others have found a table for dinner by now. ”

My stomach growled at the mention of food. “I’m ready to go.”

We— he— paid for the gloves, boots, scarf, hat. Added in a new coat and long, wool stockings before I could object. He knew my size. I supposed he had been with or around enough women to accurately guess.

The shop owner shot me at least five warning looks before we left, and the last thing I heard before Gavin led me outside was a frantic, “You’re always welcome here, dear!”

Beside me, there was an annoyed sigh and a muttering of something unintelligible that the cold wind swept away with the open door.

I bit my lip and smiled. I was afraid of many things, but not my wolf slayer.

***

The tavern was loud and smoky. The six of us sat together around a weathered wooden table in the corner, reinvigorated by the shelter and warmth of the indoors.

Our hostess was a tall, busty redhead whose confidence I immediately envied.

Her berry-red lips curled into a seductive smile at all four men in our group.

She even went so far to place a set of long, thin fingers on Finn’s shoulder while she gave her suggestions for our meal. Much to Gemma’s chagrin.

Finn smartly shifted out from beneath the hostess’s touch, not daring to look her in the eyes. She then switched her attention to Gavin. My cheeks heated as she dragged her sharp eyes and seductive smile up and down the length of his intimidating form .