Page 36 of This Midsummer Heart
After stammering a moment, she begins with a peculiar accent, the familiar sounds of our common language altered just a little in each word.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she manages, looking anguished. “I know the stories. You can’t come in. We want no trouble here!”
I sigh. Should’ve gone with the glamour.
Just as she shuts the door in my face, Auberon appears in my peripheral vision, soaked up to his waist. I’m not in the mood to smile, but it serves him right for being so slow and thinking I’d waste magic to accommodate him. When I left the stream, my magic went with me and the waters came rushing back—as he should’ve guessed would happen.
Clearly, he’s too worn out to be observant. Nor has he learned an ounce of humility. He’s furious.
“Look at this!” he says, holding out the supply satchel. “You’ve soaked what’s left of our supplies.”
I narrow my eyes at his stupidity. I really do need to leave him behind.
“The steam alone would’ve soaked the bag. Why didn’t you enchant it to stay dry?” I ask, shrugging the shoulder bearing my own satchel. I cluck my tongue at him. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t, but you couldn’t be bothered to ask me to do it for you.”
“How was I to know you had that much magic left?” he retorts, shaking the bag at me for emphasis. It clinks, as if he carries a secret stash of coin. “In case you haven’t noticed, magic isdying.”
I toss my hair back over my shoulder. So that’s what this is about. He’s angry I still have magic enough for a major working.
“In caseyouhaven’t noticed, I’ve always had deep reserves. But you never did notice, did you? Too busy admiring your own reflection in the mirror!”
At that exact moment, the miller’s wife throws open her door, shouting at us in another language. It takes my mind a moment to filter the words so I can understand them. “What is all this racket for? Go argue someplace else!”
Only she never finishes the thought. She’s spotted Auberon, and the way she looks at him is nothing like how she gawked at my ears and wings.
Fury begins to simmer in my belly. Of course. Of course she has to prove my point!
I hate him for it, the way he beguiles women with his own version of a glamour. And it’s so much more than preening—indeed, he looks a sight, his arms scratched up, his clothes dripping, sweat making the exposed v of his chest gleam. In the few minutes I left him alone, he stripped off his mail, leaving nothing but the unlaced vest on. And it is openedjust so.
As if that weren’t bad enough, hesmilesat her.
My traitorous belly flips, then burns all the hotter. I remember the days when he’d use that smile on me. I remember when I fell for it.
The memories return to haunt me as I view that sly smile from the outside. How his lips curve in a way just shy of suggestion, how his dark eyes seem to behold the object of his attention more clearly than anyone ever has.
It’s a smile that’s as beguiling as a midsummer night, and as bright as the full moon over torchlit gardens. It carries with it all the giddiness of spotting an unexpected firefly, and the sweet seduction of ripe, savory fruits that dribble down the chin, so cold and inviting in the midst of unbearable heat.
What I fool I was for this man.
“Good evening,” Auberon says, his voice pitched extra low. “I was just stopping in this town for the night with my travel companion, seeking lodging and supplies.”
“Oh, of course,” the woman says, reverting to her dialect of Laufeean. “But the market is closed for the day. Why don’t you come in? I can offer you refreshments.”
Auberon raises a brow. “If your husband won’t mind, of course.”
“Not at all, he’s still at the mill,” she answers, sparing the building a quick glance. The water wheel has begun to turn normally again. “Do come in.”
But when I move to follow him, her demeanor changes completely.
“Not you,” she snaps.
The last thing I see, before she slams the door shut in my face once again, is Auberon’s irritating swagger. And the last thing I hear?
“Well, Titaine, it appears all those hours in front of the mirror have paid off. Ta-ta.”
There isno wayhe’s coming with me to Nox now. Absolutely none.
My steps are closer to stomps as I turn towards the center of the village, hunting for its central street in the hopes of finding an inn. But my thoughts are elsewhere. Why must Auberon always be so infuriating? Why does he go out of his way to irritate me? Even now, when he is losing energy by the hour, he wastes it on whatever will anger me!
