Page 20 of Torin and His Oath (Torin and the Princess #2)

LEXI

A fter we rode for a bit more, we passed a farm, and then another, the first signs of civilization all day.

“How much farther?”

“We are verra close…” A few minutes more and he pulled us in front of a lowly shack.

“This is not an inn. This looks like a one room hovel.”

“Aye, tis a wayside, the inn is farther along, we canna make it tonight in this punishin’ rain and likely twould be full.”

The thatched roof sagged at the edges, water sluicing off the sides. A thin curl of smoke wound from the chimney, the light that spilled from a bare window was dim and yellow, barely inviting.

Torin rapped once, then shoved the heavy wooden door open without waiting. “Ho there!”

A man’s voice said, “Enter!”

Inside, it was very small. I screwed up my nose. The air was thick with unpleasant smells. The fire was peat, the whole room smelled like dirt and burnt food as the fire struggled against the dampness. It also smelled like a wet dog.

I scanned the room, looking for an animal, but found an old man, wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a stool near the fire. Oh, and a goat beside him, that explained it.

“Two of ye, is it?”

Torin grunted.

I looked around. The ceiling was low-beamed, blackened from years of fire. The walls were made of rough stone and packed earth. There were skins hanging by the hearth to dry.

The old man said, “Ye can sleep in the loft if ye daena mind the smell o’ turnips.”

Torin said, “I will be grateful for the smell of neeps, tae cover the stench of this wayside. Tis nae fit for ruffians, much less ladies.”

The old man said, “Ye want the loft or ye wanna keep ridin’?”

“I will take it.”

Torin led me to an old rickety wooden ladder.

I whispered, “Is there no food?”

Torin whispered back, “Climb up, there is stew, I will bring it tae ye.”

I climbed the ladder, my drenched clothes dragging on the rungs, every step heavier than it should have been.

At the top, the loft yawned dark and rank, with only a few scattered piles of straw and some rough wool blankets.

In the corner sat a chamberpot. Ugh. Who had slept here last?

How long since any of this had been cleaned?

I leaned over the edge of the loft and whispered down, “Will you make sure the stew is heated, so it’s safe?”

“Aye, I will oversee it.”

He crossed to the hearth, firelight catching his face. Even though I swore I hated him, he still looked intent on rescuing me, serious and handsome in the flickering glow. “Tis yer stew?” he asked.

The old man grunted. “Aye, the missus made it.”

Torin stirred the pot. “Where is she?”

The old man muttered on, but the only words I caught were, “Long gone.”

A chill ran down my spine. I whispered, “Torin?”

He strode close to the ladder.

“How old is the stew, Torin?” I felt like, once again, I was going to cry.

Torin said, his voice low, “His wife made it yesterday. She is gone for the night tae stay on their croft. He mans the wayside alone.”

“Oh, okay, I guess that’s okay.”

“I will bring it up, but ye are still shiverin’. Ye ought tae get from yer wet clothes.”

I nodded and retreated into the dark, damp loft.

I undid the pin holding the plaid across my shoulder and unwound it, leaving just the tunic on.

The fabric was soaked through, clinging to my skin.

I couldn’t decide what was worse — going naked under a scratchy wool blanket, or staying in a tunic that was wet, growing colder? None of this was okay.

A trill sounded below. I leaned over the loft’s edge to see Dude stalk into the wayside, fur plastered flat, tail thrashing, wet, wild, pissed, walking into the room trilling his head off.

The old man and Torin spoke to each other and I suppose they came to an understanding on the cat, because Dude strutted to the hearth, shook himself, and sprawled like he owned the place.

When the goat sidled over, Dude swatted a paw and the goat skittered back to the old man’s stool and ate straw from the floor.

A moment later Torin climbed the ladder, his broad frame crowding the tiny space, and handed me a wooden cup of stew with a spoon balanced inside. He glanced around the loft. “Och nae, yer bed is even worse than last night’s.”

That did it. My chin trembled. I hated to be this girl, hated crying at straw beds and chamberpots, but I was overwhelmed: hungry, angry, bone-tired, soaked through. I wanted my couch, a blanket from home, and a mug of hot cocoa. Except cocoa was centuries away.

Torin said gently, “I must put up the horses. I will return in a moment.”

I shook my head. “Fine, whatever, do what you need to do, doesn’t matter to me.”

I looked away.

The ladder groaned under his weight as he descended, then the door opened and the roar of the downpour rushed in. Torin left, the door thudding shut behind him.

He had to go out in it.

That sucked.

I felt bad for him. Almost as bad as I felt for myself. I wanted to ask Torin if I should strip out of my tunic and sleep naked under the scratchy blanket, or if it was better to stay in wet clothes. I was too miserable to decide, and too stubborn to ask.

I took a bite of stew. It was pretty good actually, rich, salty, and warm. But that was likely because I was starving. I had never eaten so little.

Then I thought about Torin, and how he was twice my size and eating the same portions and my heart wanted to break about how bleak this was for him. And how even though I hated him, he was trying so hard to keep me safe.

I finished my stew quickly and licked the spoon clean. I was very thirsty. But he hadn’t brought up a drink.

I peered over the edge of the loft again. Dude looked up, sauntered over to the bottom rung of the ladder, and meowed.

The old man in the corner looked fast asleep, his head drooping on his chest.

I whispered, “Dude, want to come up?”

Dude meowed again and returned to the hearth.

I muttered, “Yeah, don’t blame you, it’s cold up here.”

The door creaked open. Torin reappeared, dripping like he’d waded through the river itself. Water poured from his hair, plastered his shirt to his chest. He looked exhausted.

He stood dripping on the hearth, beside the fire, a slight shiver to his shoulders as he spooned stew into a mug and ate it hungrily. It worried me that it sounded like he had scraped the bottom of the pot.

The old man slept beside him.

I watched from above as the fire snapped in the hearth, casting dancing light over Torin’s face. He finished his mug of stew and helped himself to seconds, calling up, “Ye need another, Princess?”

This time the spoon definitely scraped the bottom of the pot. The stew was gone. I made out that he had a half helping, at most.

I shook my head. “No, that was good, I’m full.”

He finished the second helping in three spoonfuls, then dug his finger in, and licked the last of it.

His hands were likely filthy.

I sighed. If I were truly a princess all of this should be a lot better.

The sound of rain on the thatch was constant. In such a tight low space, it was easy to imagine drumming on a coffin lid. It was a real bummer to my already sucky mood.

Torin sat on a three-legged stool, and removed his sopping wet socks and boots. He placed them out on the dirt floor near the hearth. Then he took off his linen tunic and spread it out flat.

He returned to the ladder. “Princess, can ye pass down yer wet clothes?”

I passed down the plaid.

He asked, “This is all? Ye are warm enough?”

I nodded, not because I was warm, but because I didn’t want to be a bother.

He spread the plaid out on the ground in front of the hearth too.

My tunic was clinging to me and I was fully, really, incredibly cold.

My teeth chattered, but I hid it. “Are you coming up here?”

“Nae, I will sleep down here. Is there another blanket?”

I passed him down a blanket. “It smells like moldy feet.”

“Tis fine, I am goin’ tae use it tae cover m’arse so m’kilt can dry.” He sniffed the blanket. “Och, ye arna wrong.”

He said, “Ye hae tae turn away, Princess.”

I ducked away from the edge.

I peeked a moment later and was rewarded with a glimpse of his bare arse while he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders like a cape.

I was almost violently shivering now, so hard that my teeth clattered. I tried to get the straw into a comfortable pile and then I just collapsed into the fetal position.

“I’m so cold.”

Torin’s voice from below, “Princess, did ye say ye are cold?”

I nodded.

There was a creaking sound as he climbed up the ladder, his face coming up over the edge of the loft. He took one look then clambered up, totally nude, his blanket having fallen off his shoulders below, and his hands were on me. “Och nae, ye are still wet! Ye are ice cold.”

I cried, “I didn’t know if I should be naked.”

He was on his knees, he pulled me upright, tugged the tunic up, and yanked it off over my arms. I was all the help of a rag doll. Then he pulled me onto his knees with his arms around me, briskly rubbing his hands up and down on my arms. Holding me tightly while I shivered miserably.

He grabbed the other blanket, dragged it from the straw pile, and tossed it down the ladder. “Follow me down. I hae tae get ye in front of the fire.”

I nodded numbly. Somehow, impossibly, he managed the ladder while steadying me, guiding my feet, and helping me down. When I wobbled near the bottom rung, he scooped me up and carried me to the hearth. Besides my bra and pair of underpants, both of us were completely bare.

The old man was out, totally asleep, leaned against the stone wall, snoring, dead to the world. Thank God.

Torin swept our clothes aside with his foot, spread the blanket flat, and sat down with me cradled in his lap.

He covered me with the second blanket. He held on, his arms locked tight around me, rubbing my arms, keeping me against his heat.

I nestled in, teeth chattering, miserable but grateful for the fire’s glow and his body’s warmth.

After what seemed like a really long time, he asked, “Feel better?”

I nodded against his chest.

He shifted slightly, nudging me. “I need tae build up the fire. Dude wants tae curl up beside ye.”

Reluctantly I rolled from his lap and pulled the blanket tight around me. Dude immediately claimed the edge of it, kneading once before curling into a ball.

Torin loosely folded his kilt, quickly wrapping it like a towel so he would be halfway covered.

Then he turned his back, and crouched at the hearth, stacking kindling and coaxing the flames until they roared high.

He spread our clothes to dry, every motion deliberate, steady, capable.

Then he returned and sat on the blankets again, his knees close against my back, silent but solid.

I said, “You can lie down, it’s okay.”

“Ye arna clothed. I daena want anyone tae think I hae taken liberties with ye.”

“It’s okay, our clothes are wet. We have to share a blanket. I won’t tell anyone.”

He quietly lay down on his back, but didn’t pull the covers over him, leaving them on me. I was finally beginning to feel warm under the blanket that smelled of smoke and horse.

He said softly. “I am sorry I frightened ye.”

“I don’t know why I got so scared... or so angry, I just…” I swallowed. “I really don’t like it when you do that.”

He was quiet.

I finally said, “It scares me, a lot. It makes me behave in a way that I’m ashamed of.”

Those words hung between us, punctuated by the crackle of the fire and the old man’s slow snore.

Finally Torin’s voice came, low and steady.

“Tis because ye hae lost a great deal in yer young life, Princess. Ye lost yer mother and father, and ye lost yer brother, and then the folk who took ye in… and then those who raised ye. Someone who’s carried that much loss…

tis grim, I think ye are right tae abhor bein’ left. Tis nothin’ tae be ashamed on.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of it that way.” I turned on my side, so I could see the side of his face. “I don’t remember most any of that.”

“Ye were verra wee, but ye remember it in yer heart.” He turned his head so his face was lit by the fire. “That is why it feels like yer heart will break when ye are left.”

“Maybe that’s it, but also, I still shouldn’t be a dick.”

He raised his head to look at me. “A dick?”

“Yep.”

He lowered his head. “Ye arna a dick. Ye are frightened. I… I daena ken what I ought tae do when I must leave ye tae make things safe. I daena want tae, but sometimes I must.” He reached and pushed a wet strand of my hair behind my ear.

“I guess it’s pretty unreasonable for me to need you to keep me safe and then freak out when you do what’s necessary. If you could have whatever you needed to keep me safe, what would it be?”

Without hesitation he said, “A large castle, an army of men. If we were goin’ from Ballatar tae Glenesk I would hae twelve men ridin’ alongside yer Beamer.”

I chuckled. “I would feel very safe.”

“I would never leave yer side. But sometimes,” he broke off and looked at me, “now… I must.”

“I know. But the ‘me that knows that,’ is a very different person than the one who sat on the forest floor in the dark. I turned into a little girl out there. I’m not proud of it, but I can’t help it, not really. I will try.”

“I will do m’best tae never leave ye again.”

“And I don’t hate you.”

“I ken, Princess.”

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

“Tis not the first time someone from yer family did it.” He smiled a half-smile. “I deserved it both times.”

“That’s not true, in my case. And you mean Max? Why did Max hit you?”

He chewed his lip. “Because I told him he had tae face the truth, that his sister was long dead.”

Oh.

He added, “I am glad I was wrong in it.”

I pressed my forehead to his shoulder. “Do you think I’ll ever get home?”

“Aye, any day now.”

“How do you know? This is all so dire.”

He chuckled. “Princess, this inna even close tae how dire it could get.”

I moved my head back, as if in fun. “What on earth could possibly happen to us besides biting bugs, torrential downpours, and villainous men looking for us?”

“A verra many things, but I winna recount them in case the fae are listening. They might take it as an invitation.”

“At least we have a comfortable, dry?—”

The old man farted and woke himself up, exclaiming something that sounded like, “Oing…!”

He instantly fell back to sleep.

Torin and I giggled, as silently as we could. And then as the stench hit our noses we laughed even more.

He said, “Och nae, Princess, this is a fine castle I hae procured for ye.”

I said, “Only the best, I thank you, Torin.”

Then finally he said, “I am falling asleep.”

“Me too, good night, Torin.”

“Good night, Princess.”