Page 17 of Stolen Thorn Bride

Kasia bared her teeth in an insincere smile. “Not as such,” she replied sweetly. “Pigs don’t really require much tact.”

They engaged in what Kasia might charitably have called a staredown for a few more moments before she decided enough was enough.

“A bath does sound delightful, though,” she said, stepping through the door and turning back to Nuala. “So, I thank you. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

With a tiny little wave, she shut the door in the elf woman’s face, at which point all of her courage, her anger, and her defiance utterly deserted her. Kasia put her back to the door, slid down it, clasped her arms around her knees, and began to tremble from head to toe.

Delayed attack of nerves, she told herself, as tears began to leak from between her eyelids. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to stop them, with a silent reminder that there was no time for tears or hysterics. She had to hold it together so she could find a way out of here when the time came.

But… it was too much. She’d gone for so long on so little—food, sleep, companionship, help, or even hope. And now she was in a strange place, surrounded by people who may or may not want to kill her.

And the question currently clamoring for her attention was, did her bonding to this elf make her less of a target? Or more?

She simply didn’t know. She didn’t know anything. There was no experience, no story, no mere courage that could prepare her for what she faced now.

No parent, male or female, to tell her what she could expect from suddenly beingmarried.

Not that she would want either of her parents’ advice on that.

Kasia was on her own, just as she had always been, but never before had it felt so desperately lonely.

So she finally let go and let herself cry, and somehow between sorrow, exhaustion, and worry, she fell asleep on the floor and did not wake until morning.

* * *

Morning,of course, brought little in the way of relief—only a sore neck, an aching back, and a renewed sense that she did, in fact, need a bath.

When Kasia opened her eyes on that unfamiliar room, lit only by the grey light of dawn streaming in through the round window, she felt an almost overwhelming surge of panic. Disorientation. Homesickness.

But her confusion was almost immediately drowned by a rush of memories, followed by a surge of worry and fear. What was happening with her siblings? Were they all right? Did they think she was dead?

At least Rordyn was old enough to ensure that they were fed and safe. And if needed, he would take action. Probably not the same action she would choose, but he could manage.

The question was whether the rest of the village would help them. None of the villagers were well off, but surely they wouldn’t let three children starve.

Gianessa, she knew, would not. But Rordyn would never go to her by choice—not unless there was no choice left.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing her hunger pangs for the moment, Kasia made her way into the “washing room” and discovered an enormous sunken bathtub, already filled with water from the night before. It was cold, but so was nearly every bath she’d taken in her life, so that wasn’t going to stop her.

Soap and a drying cloth had been quite thoughtfully provided, so she was able to swiftly remove all traces of pig from her hair and skin. The cold water helped her feel awake, and, strangely, filled her with a sort of optimistic determination. Perhaps things would be better today. Perhaps Miach would announce he was sending her home. And perhaps those elves would look at her with a teeny bit less condescension if she didn’t stink like a barn.

Once she was scrubbed and shivering, she returned to the bedchamber, looked around, and realized that Nuala had not actually brought any clean clothing for her.

And also that it was not precisely Nuala’s fault. Kasia had been the one to fall asleep in front of the door all night.

Now what?

Kasia had no idea what she would have done, but was spared the effort of deciding by a hard rap on the door. That must be her clean clothes.

Casting around for some sort of cover, Kasia finally gave up and yanked a sheet off the bed. She wrapped it hastily around her before opening the door, fully prepared to apologize and thank the other woman for saving her from her plight.

Alas.

It was not Nuala.

Kasia would have had a difficult time determining who was more shocked—her, or her new husband.

Who stood in the hall outside—clothed this time—with stunned confusion, disapproval, and perhaps a teeny bit of embarrassment written all over his gorgeous face.

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