Page 64 of Minor Works of Meda

“Oh. No. Why are your hands full?” It was too dark to see more than the suggestion of shapes.

“I brought you more food. You probably don’t want it, do you? Damn. Will you think I’m horribly spoiled if I throw it in the water? I don’t have anywhere to put it down.”

“I could eat, actually,” I said, and sniffed.

“Alright, good. There’s wine too. But it’s not even decent. It’s bad enough it might make you cry again.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, and reached my hands out for what he offered.

Chapter 28

When I suggested we ought to sleep in the boat, Oraik was horrified.

“In that tiny thing,” he said. I blinked at him, and his eyes widened. “If this is a seduction attempt, it’s the worst I’ve seen.”

“I—what? Of course it’s not,” I protested, shocked he’d be so absurd. But Oraik just interrupted, rambling.

“On the water. With no roof. No blankets. No pillow. Oh, dear. You’re worse than I thought.”

Frustration made my head feel like a tangle of sailing knots. I gripped my hands into fists and tried to keep my voice calm.

“Well, I don’t see a tavern and I haven’t got money for one anyways. It’s that, or the streets.”

Oraik groaned dramatically.

“Please don’t make me take back what I said about you being a good captor.”

“You were living with pirates!”

“The pirates had houses with roofs. I demand that, at the very least.”

“Then get it yourself.” I’d lost all semblance of calm.

“Yes, I’d better. They’re more likely to say yes to me, anyways. Come on.” He ruffled my hair—I swatted at his hand, too annoyed to put up with physical touch—and stood.

Oraik was right about our odds. I hadn’t made any friends among the villagers. I hadn’t wanted to. And with the way I’d acted, it seemed like somewhat of a miracle that he still liked me.

I was nervous to return to the town square and walked a step behind Oraik, unsure what the festival would be like now. We’d lingered at the water for ages. He’d returned a few times to get more food and drinks, and spent so long on one of the trips that I think he might have danced again, which I couldn’t begrudge him.

The bonfire had reduced to only the height of my knees, and the crowd had thinned. It didn’t feel so overwhelming now as before. I followed Oraik around as he chatted and thanked different people. Then suddenly we were being ushered into one of the houses. In a great flurry of activity blankets and pillows were carried in and set on the tiled kitchen floor. I made sure to thank everyone profusely, but mostly they were paying attention to Oraik.

And then we were alone, bundled on the floor a foot from each other.

“I wish I could do something to thank them,” I whispered.

“What about a spell?” He rolled over to face me. “People pay good money for spellcraft, don’t they?”

“The thing is, I’m not a very good witch.” Saying it out loud felt like cracking my chest open and letting him look inside. But Oraik didn’t seem impressed.

“You saved me.”

“Barely.” I sighed, not realizing he’d finally admitted it out loud. “I had fortunate timing. I’m just not powerful enough.”

His response got lost in a yawn. Tomorrow would be better, I told myself. Tomorrow Kalcedon would be here.

We fell asleep. Sometime in the night Oraik rolled half on top of me, pinning my arm and breathing right against my cheek. I wormed free.

But I woke up to the feeling of a suffocating weight crushing me down to the ground again.

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