Page 13 of Chains of Love

"That's very kind," I say, "but perhaps we should?—"

"I made sweet bread!" The boy bounces on his hooves. "Well, tried to. It's a bit burnt, but you can try it if you want." He steps back, gesturing inside the cozy cottage.

The scent of scorched honey wafts out, along with the warmth of a hearth. My stomach growls, reminding me we haven't eaten since dawn.

"Your parents won't mind?" I ask.

The boy shakes his head. "They like meeting new folks. 'Cept bad people, but you're pretty!"

Darak's low growl vibrates through our bond. I dig my nails into his arm in warning.

"I'm Turo!" The boy bounces on his hooves again, clearly full of energy. "Come try my sweet bread. I put extra honey in it!"

Before I can respond, a bone-rattling roar splits the air. The ground trembles beneath my feet as a massive minotaur charges toward us, battle axe raised. His horns curve wickedly, gleaming in the sunlight.

"Papa, wait!" Turo calls out.

Darak's hand flies to his sword hilt. I grab his wrist, digging my nails in. Through our bond, I push a wave of calm. "Don't."

The minotaur skids to a halt, nostrils flaring. His eyes lock onto Darak, muscles bunching beneath his leather vest. "Who are you? Who sent you? How did you find us?"

"We're travelers," I step forward, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart. "I'm Lirien, and this is my brother, Darak." The lie tastes strange on my tongue, noticing his skepticism. "He's adopted, obviously."

"Adopted," the minotaur repeats flatly.

"My parents took him in when his family fled the dark elf territories." I continue. "We're seeking shelter from the forest. Nothing more."

"Papa, they were going to try my sweet bread!" Turo tugs at his father's vest.

The minotaur's grip on his axe loosens slightly. "A dark elf, adopted by humans?"

"Strange times make for strange families," I say, forcing a smile. I feel Darak's irritation at playing along, but also his grudging appreciation for my quick thinking.

"And you're travelers?" The minotaur's grip tightens on his axe.

"Yes." I brush leaves from my robe, playing up our disheveled state. "We just emerged from Kanturak forest." Through our bond, I feel Darak's approval at weaving truth into the lie. "We're seeking shelter for the night, if you'd be so kind."

"The forest?" The minotaur's nostrils flare. "No one survives?—"

"Rook, stop terrorizing our guests." A tall woman emerges from behind him, her presence both commanding and gentle.

My eyes snap up—and then quickly away—from her impressive chest, which is exactly at my eye level. She wears a simple dress that does little to contain her body, and her honey-colored hair falls in thick waves past her shoulders.

"I'm Serra." She places a calming hand on the minotaur's arm. "This suspicious brute is Rook. I help raise Turo." Her warm smile reaches her eyes. "Did you say Kanturak? My, you must be exhausted. Come inside before you fall over."

Through our bond, I feel Darak's tension ease slightly at Serra's genuine warmth. I also feel something else that makes me want to punch him in the throat.

"That's very kind," I say, my teeth clenched in a forced smile. "We'd be grateful."

"And you can still try my sweet bread!" Turo bounces between us, his tail swishing with excitement.

Serra laughs. "Oh dear, is that what I smell burning?"

The cottage interior welcomes us with warmth and the lingering scent of burnt honey. Wooden beams stretch overhead, accommodating Rook's impressive height. Dried herbs hang from the rafters, their earthy aroma mixing with woodsmoke from the hearth.

Serra gestures to the oak table. "Please, sit. Water?" She pours from an earthenware pitcher, her movements graceful. "You must be parched after traveling through that dreadful forest."

"Thank you," I say, but Serra's attention has already shifted to Darak. She hands him his cup first, her fingers brushing his as she releases it.

---