Page 21

Chapter 21

Kaya

A t least there is a surplus of pillows. Pillows are stacked in the corners of the room, on a set of shelves, and on the bed, too.

“Why did she tell us there were two beds?” My voice waffles between insecure and overly bright. I roll my eyes at myself.

Someone runs up behind us and stops. It’s a young man—all knees and overlarge teeth. Can’t be more than ten years old.

“Um, my ma said to tell you she is sorry. She was mixed up. We had to throw out the other cot in here because of an incident.”

“Do we want to know?” Cyrus asks.

The lad shudders. “You don’t.”

I grimace. “Oh my. One cot is fine.” I don’t want to hear any details.

“It involved a clowder,” the lad says.

Cyrus frowns. “A what?”

“Chowder,” I say, clarifying even though I don’t know how it would have anything to do with the situation.

“No, a clowder,” the lad says. “Of cats.”

Cyrus jerks back, eyes wide. “Cat stew?”

The lad lifts his hands. “Noooo, Master Dragonkin,” he says, using the generic term for dragon shifters. “We don’t eat cats. I love them. The kittens live under my bed now.” He smiles, showing those large front teeth. He’s adorable.

Cyrus is nodding. “Ah. A mother cat had kittens on my bed, did she?”

“Not just one cat,” the lad says. “Three. All in one night! We think it was something to do with the witch that passed through town that very evening. She was a mischievous one.”

Raising an eyebrow, Cyrus leans forward. “Aren’t all witches?”

The lad purses his lips. “Aye, I think so.”

I cover my mouth to hide my laugh as the lad gives us a bow and hurries back down the stairs. When I face the single bed again, I swallow hard around a sudden frog stuck in my throat.

“I’ll take the floor, Kaya. Don’t worry. I’m tough enough to handle it.”

“You hate discomfort.”

“I would hate it more if you were on the floor.” His eyes heat, and this time, I can’t look away.

“Th-thank you,” I say lamely, wishing I knew how to act and had his confidence.

He shakes himself, looking away at last. “Ah, see? There’s an extra quilt. It’ll be fine. I’ll see the innkeeper and fetch us an extra bowl and linen for washing. You go ahead, and I’ll knock before I come back in.”

Suddenly, I wish for the courage to try out a relationship with him. A romantic relationship. What if I could face the idea of being broken into a thousand pieces when he leaves me? Would being with him be worth that risk? He would always be at least my friend. We could go back to watching one another’s romances. Well, I never have any, but I would see his and…

A shiver rocks me.

No, I can’t handle it.

In fact, I’m already unsure how I will react when he’s cozying up to someone in town. I was fine with it before this baking project. A sigh flutters out of me and I try to let it go, that want I feel for him, that incredible pull toward his scent, his arms, his voice. To his smile and his easy way of living in the world.

After taking off my traveling boots and stockings, I remove my apron and dress and hang them on a hook by one of the windows to air out. In my shift, bralette, and silk shorts, I wash my face with bracingly chill water and attempt to clear my thoughts. The lavender scented soap lathers between my hands, and the drying cloth is incredibly soft. I tuck myself into bed, feeling shy about only wearing my shift, when Cyrus knocks lightly.

“Come in,” I say, my voice cracking.

Why, oh why did I agree to his idea of joining me on this trip?