Page 78 of Swordheart
Halla, too, had difficulty sleeping, though for largely different reasons. The bed was very narrow and the fact that she was sharing it with a mostly-sheathed sword did not help.
She reached out and touched the embossed sheath, runningher fingers over the pattern. Sleeping with a sword in her bed. Gods, her life had taken quite a turn since she left Rutger’s Howe.
The attempted robbery had been unsettling, but she was not as shaken as she had been after Mina had tried to prey on her. The sword was valuable, someone had overheard that, so they had tried to take it. It did not feel personal the same way.
And if I’m being honest, I only saw a few seconds of it before I ran like a rabbit.
The library had been closing, but the desk clerk had still been there. If she’d screamed, people would have come running. She didn’t, because Sarkis had clearly had the situation well in hand, and she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to explain about magic and swords and risk spreading the word to even more potential thieves.
She was not at all concerned that the priests of the White Rat had betrayed them. They didn’tdothat sort of thing.
Still, if someone tried to break into the hostel and take the sword, they’d have to get past the guard, past the nuns, find her, then wrestle it out from under the blankets, and all she’d have to do was yank the cords off, sheathe it and draw it again, and Sarkis would appear, large as life and twice as angry.
He had seemed irritated after she’d found him, but probably that was because of the robbery. Of course, he’d seemed irritated after he kissed her, too…
She rolled over, trying to get comfortable. The sword banged against her back.
No one had ever kissed her like that. The miller’s son, who’d courted anything in skirts when Halla was sixteen, onlywishedthat he could kiss that way. Her husband had never even tried, preferring to focus his attention on what lay under her skirt and the quickest way of getting to it.
Sarkis’s kiss had been as fierce as the rest of him. He’d tiltedhis head to cover her mouth with his, holding her against him, and… well, it had been wonderful. Her initial surprise had warmed into something else entirely, as if her veins were full of… oh, not fire, but something kinder. Melted butter, perhaps. Yes. She’d felt as if she were melting against him.
But then Sarkis had stopped, which was bad, and apologized, which was even worse. She must have done something wrong, or more likely, not done the right thing. There was probably something obvious, something that any other woman would know to do, but she hadn’t, so Sarkis thought she must not be interested.
Which I am. Very much.
She’d felt like her insides were turning to honey. She hadn’t wanted it to stop. If she had her way, they’d still be leaning against the wall of the alley together.
She rolled over again. The sword dug into her hip and she had to move it so she wasn’t lying on top of the damn thing.
Which was the problem, ultimately. The sword was one thing. If Sarkis had been in her bed, instead of the hunk of steel he was entrapped in, he’d want… well, what the miller’s son had wanted and hadn’t gotten, and what her husband had performed while staring into the middle distance with an expression of bemused concentration, as if Halla wasn’t there at all.
Halla had a feeling that Sarkis would not be staring into the middle distance while he bedded her. Hell, if the kiss was any indication, she might not be staring into the middle distance herself.
But after bedding came the consequences of bedding. Like pregnancy and childbirth and assuming she lived through that—her family’s history wasn’t great—suddenly the thin shield provided by being a respectable widow would vanish.
She didn’t quite dare.
But oh gods, how she wanted to…
CHAPTER 26
The priest arrived at the hostel the next morning.
“It’s you!” said Halla, sounding surprised and delighted.
Zale, the priest they had first met at the temple, sketched a bow. “It is, indeed.”
The priest was dressed for travel this morning, their hair pulled back, and had exchanged the white robes of the Rat for more sensible dark brown. There was still a line of white embroidered rats on the sleeve, rather more charming than religious, but Sarkis wasn’t going to mention it.
“I didn’t know you’d be the one the Temple sent,” said Halla.
They smiled. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be. But I requested it. I fear that I am quite fascinated by your case, and given the chance…” The priest spread their hands.
“And you have the legal skills to assist Mistress Halla?” said Sarkis.
“I have some small experience in that direction.”
“How small?”
