Page 44 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

Although I didn’t necessarily find him handsome—at least not in the way Miro or Koryek were—there was something strangely mesmerizing about Bane’s sheer strength, the alien lines of his large body.

“Um… my Lady… this isn’t a very appropriate place for you to break your fast.” Ellena sniffed, glancing at the smith’s yard with obvious disdain.

You can leave me here. Go inside, be with people, I said, already annoyed with the sniffing about what was appropriate and what wasn’t. It was petulant and childish of me, but we both knew that Ellena was simply a foil, and not actually expected to wait on me at every turn.

She waited for me to get up, and when I didn’t, she turned her nose up and shot a hopeful look at Miro. “I’m going back to the kitchens, then.”

Do as you please.I’m not your keeper, and you’re not mine.

She left in a hurry, and I ate a bite of the honey-sweetened bread, watching as the smith examined an iron bar. He said something, and then Bane picked the whole wagon up.

His arms bulged, the muscles of his back contracting, and he lifted the entire damn thing and carried it out of the smith’s yard, placing it onto the paved stones of the courtyard where a hostler waited with a mule.

Oh, my.

It was one thing to know that Bane could crush skulls with a single hand or throw a horse, and quite another to see him pickup a thousand pounds or so with all the effort it’d take me to pick up a book.

I blinked, still a little dazed, and found that I was staring at his vast, well-muscled chest, and Bane was grinning a little.

Miro let out a sharp hiss of breath between his teeth. “He’s just showing off now.”

His grumble startled me; I’d completely forgotten his presence. His dismissive attitude towards Bane irritated me in a way I wished I could express in words.

Why shouldn’t he? If you could lift wagons like they were feathers, I’m sure you’d be showing off, too.

Bane mastered himself as he strode toward us, that hint of grin fading as he approached. He made an effort to enclose his lips over his fangs, his shoulders drawing up ever so slightly.

“Good morning, Cirrien. I hope you slept well.” The echoing grumble of his voice was louder outside, bouncing off the stone walls of the keep.

A little, I signed to him, abandoning my plate to my lap.There was quite a bit to write about. I never even had the chance to properly thank you for the journal.

His gaze followed my hands, eyes squinting slightly. “‘Write’… I saw that one. And maybe ‘thank’?”

I nodded encouragingly, suddenly feeling bolstered by the decision to come outside, and this time it was easier to smile.

We will practice together, you and I, I told him.I will have you fluent in no time.

Most of that was probably a muddle to him, but I knew he understood ‘you and I’, two sweeps of the index finger between us; his shoulders lowered, the tension running out of him like water.

I stood up, balancing the plate on the barrel where I’d been sitting, and took a step towards him.

I hope you slept well, too, I added, watching his eyes as I signed.I didn’t mean to run from you, I just… it’s something I never expected in my life. I hope you won’t hold it against me, if you give me time… perhaps we can try again one day.

I was in no hurry to feel fangs at my throat again, but to lose any regard he had for me… that would be genuinely painful.

“You might have to write that out for me,” Bane said, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. I was close enough to once again pick out those little star-like flecks of silver in the midst of the gold. “Did Miro tell you what he’s been commissioned for?”

My portrait, I said gloomily, and Bane’s lips twitched at my frown.

“His mother, Edda Kyril, was the court artist, when the last Lord of the Rift ruled here.” Bane gave the young man a sidelong glance. “He’s inherited her talent, and if he can prove himself consistent with any kind of work, perhaps he will earn a higher commission.”

“It would be my pleasure to prove it,” Miro said, bowing a little. There was a sardonic tilt to his mouth.

Well, if he didn’t want to be treated like a child, maybe he should have been a little less open with his disgruntlement and self-professed laziness. But I kept that thought to myself.

“Are your guards… to your liking?” Bane’s expression was veiled, carefully neutral.

Koryek is doing perfectly fine, I said, spelling out the guard’s name phonetically.He doesn’t complain incessantly.

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