Page 18 of Of Sword & Silver

“Here,” she says. Her warm fingers brush mine, and a tingling awareness of her power, of her physical body, sings through me, a siren song.

My body tenses, immediately wary. It’s been… years since I was last with a woman, a decade since I was able to do more than relieve myself in the rare occasions I was unrestrained in my cell.

My fingers close around the wax paper and twine-wrapped cake of soap, and I rip my hand away from hers.

Best not to think of anything but the inevitable outcome of the oath we’ve sworn to each other.

7

KYRIE

Goddess, he is such an asshole.

And still, I feel sorry for him. I mean, I shouldn’t because he clearly deserved his time in prison after what he did—but I’ve often been disciplined for having too much empathy for one of Sola’s followers.

I scour the now empty pot with snow until my fingers are red and raw and the cookware gleams in the firelight, the metal reflecting my face back at me.

No longer the face of the red-haired girl streaked with tears as Sola’s teachers took turns caning me for hiding a kitten in my cot, for feeding it scraps.

Empathy and kindness were beaten out of me, out of all of Sola’s foundlings.

At least, they were supposed to be.

Mushroom whickers from across the clearing, taking cover under the snow-laden boughs.

I pull another half carrot out of my cloak. I should have put it in the stew, but I guess I’m too soft, even now. Snow crunches under my boots as I make my way over to the mule, holding out the carrot. Mushroom’s breath is deliciously warm against my palm, his nose soft and delicate as he crunches thoughtfully into the orange vegetable.

He nuzzles into my shoulder and I scratch behind his soft, long ears, the way he trained me to do as soon as I liberated him two years ago from the farmer I watched abuse him for not pulling a too-heavy cart.

What would the Sisters of Sola think of me now?

A mule I adore eating my food. A death curse bearing down on me. Best of all, a knight of death, murderer of my so-called sisters, now my only chance at survival?

My back aches at the memory of their version of care.

I grit my teeth, any temporary relief I found in Mushroom’s warm sweetness evaporating.

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” I tell him, scratching the muddy-white star on his forehead and dropping a kiss on his velvety nose.

Sighing, I trudge through the snow falling in bitter earnest now, banking the fire and grabbing a couple of the satchels of stolen goods I stored here before making my way into Cottleside to free the Sword.

The Sword, who took off into the forest without a word, with a cake of soap.

For all I know, he’s out there naked and freezing, and frankly, if it weren’t for the fact I need him, I would be just fine with that.

Unfortunately, I do need him. I sling the satchels over one shoulder, squinting through the fast-falling snow, huge flakes making steady layers over the forest floor.

“Sword?” I call. “I’m turning in for the night. If you aren’t back in a few minutes, I’m coming looking for you.” Silence is my only answer. I grit my teeth. Infuriating.

“I don’t care how shriveled your tiny dick is from your snowbath,” I yell out. “I will drag you back here by it, and Mushroom will help.”

Mushroom tosses his head in agreement.

A shadow appears on the edge of the clearing, and my throat grows dry. White hair, dark eyes, features cut from a cloth that is anything but human.

“I’m here, woman,” he growls, stalking across the clearing. “Any louder and you’ll bring whatever predators roam these mountains down on our heads, and that curse of yours will be the least of your problems.”

“Oh, now you can talk.” It comes out breathless and I cough, trying to play off the fact that I’m breathless… because of him.

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