Page 21 of The Sea-Ogre's Eager Bride

“You are in pain,” he points out.

“Cramps. They’re worst the first two days.”

“What do you require from me? How can I help?”

Part of me wishes he would go away, because I just want to be left alone. I’m not used to someone paying attention to my cramps, much less offering to help out. I wrap an arm around my belly and shrug. “Willow bark tea? If you have that, it helps with the aching.”

“I have none.” He rubs his jaw. “Tell me what this tree looks like and I will try to find it.”

“I genuinely don’t know. I bought it from the apothecary. It’s fine. Thank you for offering.” I reach out and pat one of hishands. “If it’s all the same, I’m going to sleep through the worst of it if I can.”

He blinks at me, gaze somber, and nods. “Do you require food? Drink?”

I shake my head. “The thought of raw fish is nauseating right now. I’ll be fine. Truly. It’s like this every month.”

Ranan’s mouth flattens. He gets to his feet and abandons me without saying a word.

It’s notthe worst round of cramps I’ve had, but it’s up there. I’m tired and thirsty and sore, but I don’t have the energy to get up from the bottom of the tent and find a waterskin. I doze instead, and when I wake up, my lips are dry and chapped and the cloth between my thighs is soaked. Ugh. I rub a hand over my face, wondering if I should go to the water’s edge and rinse it, or if that’s a bad idea.

As if my thoughts summon him, Ranan steps inside the tent. He’s got a wet trunk with him the size of a barrel and sets it down in front of me. “I brought you cloth.”

“You did?” I sit up, touched at his efforts. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You are hurting and feel unwell,” he says simply. “If this will help, I will do it.”

It won’t fix my cramps, but I’ll definitely feel better cleaned up. I watch as he pulls out a knife and breaks the wax seal around the edges of the trunk, something I’ve never seen before. It’s to make it waterproof, I realize. A trunk full of sodden fabric would be twice as heavy and likely ruined, too. He opens the trunk and grabs the first bolt of fabric and offers it to me.

My jaw drops. I touch the delicately embroidered silk, a cloth that’s probably worth more than Lady Parness’s entire castle. “I can’t use this.”

“It is dry?—”

I shake my head before he can finish. “It’s too fine. Too beautiful. I’d ruin it.”

“It’s just fabric.” He glares at me.

“And you’re ‘just’ like a human man, right?”

Ranan huffs, amused by my comparison. “Very well, then.”

He digs deeper into the trunk and pulls out another fabric this time, this one a rich green brocade with gold thread shot through it. I decline again, and we go through the trunk of fabrics, all of them more beautiful than I ever imagined, and finally go with a dark, elegant, burgundy linen, as it seems the best choice. I hold the fabric and it’s the softest linen I’ve ever touched, with little white flowers sewn onto the edges. It feels wrong, yet I’ve no other choice. I worry that if I keep turning down Ranan’s thoughtful gifts, he’ll get annoyed and decide to get rid of me after all.

“Thank you,” I tell him, clutching the fabric to my chest and managing a smile. I decide I don’t care how stained the fabric gets. I’m keeping this and making a dress out of it and it’ll still be the finest thing I’ve ever owned. I pet the soft linen and ignore how my callused fingers catch against it.

He watches me for a moment and then turns, pulling a satchel off his shoulder. “I brought more.”

“More fabric?”

The sea-ogre shakes his head and opens the sack. Out spill something like…cattails. Cattails and a large berry that looks like a milky pink bubble. I’m perplexed at the sight of these things, but he picks one cattail up and breaks it open, and downy fluff pours out of it. “Absorbent,” he says. “It might help.”

“Gods, this is perfect,” I cry, so relieved I could weep fresh tears. “You’re wonderful.”

The sail atop his head flicks and he picks up one of the pink bubbles. “For you.”

“What is it?” I sniff it, but it doesn’t smell like anything. It looks waxy and strange, the size of a small plum. There’s dozens of them in the bag, too.

“After you said that you couldn’t eat fish today, I remembered that my mother likes a certain type of seagrass fruit once a month. I thought the reason might be similar. You eat them.” His eyes are dark, his expression cagey, as if he’s uncomfortable sitting here with me. “Try one.”

Oh. Food and fabric? I’m touched that he went to such effort, and a little worried, too. What if he decides I’m not worth all the trouble? Gingerly, I lift one of the bubbles to my lips and try to take a bite. The skin of it is hard, like an enormous grape, and I end up popping the entire thing in my mouth and chewing so it doesn’t splatter everywhere. A sweet, milky flavor floods my mouth when the bubble bursts, and it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. It’s like berries and sweetness and milk all combined into one syrupy bite. His mother must crave sweets during her menses, too. I snatch another up and eat it.

---