Page 46 of Swordheart
“You needn’t suffer them any longer.”
She opened her eyes. “What? Why not?”
“Because I will dispose of them for you.”
Halla started to laugh weakly. “Oh gods! If only you’d come along ten years earlier…”
He sat down in the chair, facing the door, as alert as a guard dog. “Take a nap,” he suggested. “I’m here now.”
She fell asleep almost at once. When she woke again, the sun was going down and Sarkis was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her. He tilted his head up at her.
“Have you been awake this whole time?”
“Of course.”
She shook her head, bemused.
“Do you wish to go downstairs?”
“Mmm.” She stood up, wincing at the stiffness in her joints. She didn’t mind being older, she just wished her bones hadn’t aged faster than the rest of her. Somewhere in her early thirties, her hips had decided they belonged to a much older body.
There was a privy at the end of the hall with a carved wooden seat. It was a great deal better than attending to business in hedgerows. There were fewer twigs in awkward places.
Sarkis, who presumably did not need to do this sort of thing, either, waited at the other end of the hall.
“Err,” said Halla, once she emerged. “Do you… uh…?”
“If I stay outside the sword long enough to eat and drink, yes,” he said. “But not right now.”
She nodded. “I thought I’d be hungry again,” she admitted. “But I’m just exhausted. I want to sleep for a year.”
“Understandable,” said Sarkis, holding open the door to her room.
“I guess I’ll just sheathe you?” She looked at the sword, tied open with the dressing gown cords, which were by now much the worse for wear.
“No,” said Sarkis. “I should sleep, but I will make a bed here. After this morning’s attack, I do not wish to leave you unguarded.”
Halla blinked at him. “Um,” she said.
Don’t be silly. It’s not as if you weren’t asleep earlier. Hell, you climbed into his lap last night. And you’re traveling alone together, so your reputation isn’t going to get much more compromised.
There was just something very different about sleeping in proximity in the middle of a hedge and sleeping, at the same time, in the same bedroom. Maybe it was the existence of the bed.
Halla looked at the bed, which was narrow, sagging in the middle, and had bits of straw leaking out from a gap in the side. As a palace of carnal delight went, it was definitely sub-par.
Sarkis rolled his eyes, picked up her pack, and set it down infront of the door. Then he stretched out, folded his arms across his chest, and put his head on the pack.
Halla peered over the foot of the bed at him.
“It’s fine,” he said, not opening his eyes.
“Is that comfortable?”
“Not particularly.”
“Do you want a blanket?”
“It’s fine.”
