Page 56 of Feral Guardian
I pull the blanket over my head and cocoon myself in darkness.
“We have things to do,” he says after a few moments.
I can’t bring myself to say anything back. I know there are things to be done. If we’re to get home, I need to start making rope and pots and this and that.
I don’t want to get home. I never belonged there, anyway. Never impressed my mother with any of the things I was good at. Never—
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and come out,” he says.
Gods, can he hear my thoughts?
No…
Doubtful.
I grab the rune-warded necklace lying between my breasts and inspect it closely. Nothing in here about whispered secrets of the mind, or sensing emotions. So, how is he doing it? Am I just so easy to guess?
Alastair sighs deeply. “Come out so I can apologize, please.”
“For what?” I mumble.
“It’ll be two apologies soon if you stay in there—one for eating your breakfast.”
I throw off the sheet with a huff. Looking down, there isn’t much to be done about my dirty clothes. My auburn hair is falling out of my braid in every which direction, and I’m sure if Ilifted my arm for a sniff, it wouldn’t be the most pleasant odor. From squatting like a beast to looking and smelling like one, too. Wonderful.
I undo my braid and run my fingers through my hair, then straighten my clothes. The sun assaults me as I emerge from the tent, and I have to shield my eyes. It’s colder out here, and a chill travels down my spine as I take in the scents of the forest, and Alastair’s fire.
I come around the tent to the firepit to find Alastair sitting on a log with a flat, dark stone over the fire. There’re eggs frying next to slices of toasted bread and melting cheese.
Alastair is staring at me when I finally meet his gaze. I divert my eyes back to the ground and sit on the other side of the fire. It’s me who needs to apologize. For the gods’ sake, I was finger-fucking myself next to him while he was sleeping.
“It was highly inappropriate for me to touch myself next to you, and I’m sorry,” I blurt out before I second-guess myself. “I’m sorry I put you in that situation. I’m sorry I’m the way I am.”
“Never apologize for who you are. You’re perfect,” he says, then curses under his breath.
My face heats and I can’t look at him, so I stare at the food. He pushes the eggs around on the stone, loosening them with a sliver of wood that serves as a spatula.
Alastair takes a fortifying breath. “It was inappropriate for me to have done what I did, too. I understand that the body has…urges. Sometimes, they’re difficult to ignore. Other times, they’re impossible to avoid.”
Kor’Tar whinnies nearby, seemingly laughing at us.
“How long have you had him?” I ask, nodding at the horse and diverting from the topic.
“Since I was twelve. We trained together,” he says.
“Trained for what?” I ask.
He’s quiet for a moment, but finally speaks. “To protect you.”
I remember the day Alastair rode into the kingdom on Kor’Tar. He was only nineteen, but I knew he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, with his dark skin and thick, braided hair. The runes in his braids clacked gently, and I was fascinated by them.
When he applied to my personal guard, I felt so special. This man from miles and miles away, a whole other kingdom away, came to protectme.He’d been relegated to the lower guard first, but within a year he’d beaten out every other candidate, and on my eleventh birthday, he was assigned to me.
“Why?” I ask for the hundredth time.
“Because,” he grunts out.
“Because why?”
