Page 137 of Swordheart
“I think perhaps I will turn in,” Zale said. “This is most excellent wine, and too much more will go to my head.” The priest rose and nodded to Halla and Sarkis. “And it will be good not to sleep in a wagon again.”
“I am looking forward to it,” said Sarkis.
“You didn’t sleep in the wagon anyway,” said Halla, as Zale left the room. “You slept on top.”
“Yes, and sleeping indoors will be a welcome change.”
“I thought you slept on rocks and snow all the time.”
“I didn’t say I enjoyed it.”
The sound of the priest’s laughter drifted down the hall after them.
Halla looked suddenly worried. “Oh dear. I didn’t clear out a bedroom for you.”
“It is no concern. I will guard you.”
She grumbled, but rose. He padded after her as she went to the linen closet and pulled out a pile of quilts. “Here. If you plan on sleeping in front of the door again, I’ll make you a bedroll.”
He accepted an armload of cloth and said, with absolute honesty, “It had not occurred to me to sleep anywhere else.”
CHAPTER 44
Halla led the way to her bedchamber, then paused. It was going to be very cramped with Sarkis on the floor.
“Oh,” she said, almost to herself. “I don’t have to sleep in there, do I?”
“It is your house now,” Sarkis said. “You may sleep in any room that you wish. You may sleep in the garden if you so desire.”
“That’s quite all right. Maybe tomorrow I’ll sort something out. I’d want to change the sheets, though.” She opened the door to her old room.
It seemed even smaller than she remembered, but so familiar. An emotion gripped her suddenly that she hardly recognized—the opposite of homesickness, perhaps.Home. I’m back home.
She stopped in the doorway and Sarkis nearly ran into her back. He was a warm, solid wall behind her and somehow his presence felt like home, too.
She lit the tiny lamp by the door with a sigh of relief.
Sarkis set down the blankets and the cups.
“You brought the wine,” she said, amused.
He smiled as he handed her the cup. “It’s important to celebrate the victories. They are too few in life.”
She took the cup and their fingers touched briefly. Her heart squeezed in her chest and that was stupid, they touched plenty of times on the road, there was no reason to feel that way about so small a touch.
“Are you sure you don’t mind going to see my nieces?” she said.
He gave her an impatient look. “I am your guardsman. I don’t mind. Iserve.”
“But you’re not!” she said, frustrated. “Or you’re not just—I mean, you’re not a servant. You’re my friend. At least, I thought we were friends…”
She hated how small her voice became at the end. She hated how much whatever he said next would matter.
She’d gotten back her inheritance. She had everything she wanted… except, apparently one thing.
This is a terrible thing to want.
Sarkis took a step forward and took her face between his palms. His dark eyes were even darker than usual and there was something in them she didn’t recognize.
