Page 28 of Midwinter Wiles & Valerian Dreams
Well, of course he’s different. I glance over, noting all the wild features about him. The way his pale skin contrasts with his dark sleeves. The messy ash-blond hair curled at his nape beneath the floppy points of his hat. The tall frame that broadens from his waist up to his shoulders, stretching the limits of his tunic as he twists the broken pipe free from its joint in the wall, his forearms flexing.
I swallow.
Lumi’s words from earlier run through my mind on a loop.
No one will be looking for a Wilder girl working at an inn. Even more certainly, no one would look for a Wilder woman with a fiancée and seven orphan children.
Lark expertly fits a new piece of metal tubing with a collar around it, reaching without looking for each new tool he needs. The sheer competence is admirable. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I can’t help wondering how he learned all this.
I know politics, fashion, court rituals, and the steps to more dances than I can name. But what do I know of the world out here? I couldn’t even do dishes without an epic flood. I don’t know the simplest tasks that these people take for granted.
As I watch him expertly fix the damage I wrought, I mull over his request.
“Lark, I’ve been thinking,” I start.
Still bent over the wide sink as he seals a metal plate into place around the replaced pipe, he turns to grin over his shoulder. “And here I thought you were just enjoying the view,” he says, wiggling his hips.
I can’t help it. A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.
“I get it. It’s a nice view.” He stands before I can confirm or deny any such thing, his gaze shifting to beyond my shoulder. “Hi Daria. All fixed.”
“So I assumed, given the flirting going on over here,” she says.
I jump to my feet, my hands smoothing down the skirt I changed into. “I wasn’t—I mean, we weren’t—I just brought in the last of the pots and Lark was working.”
Her lips quirk. “Relax, girl.”
“I amsosorry. Again… I don’t know how to apologize for this, and I understand that you’ll want me to leave. I—I don’t know what happened.”
Lark turns around while I keep blathering on, stammering out more apologies to Daria, whose expression is unreadable.
“Found your culprit,” Lark says, cutting off my endless word vomit and holding out the soap bottle. Only it looks slightly different now. “The cap is cracked. You probably didn’t notice there was a bunch more soap coming out the side.”
My jaw hangs open. Did he just—? Why would he help me? I never even had a chance to tell him I was considering saying yes to the fake engagement if he would teach me some skills, but he’s helping me anyway. For free. Who does that?
Daria takes the bottle and inspects the broken cap. I remember the way I felt smooth metal in his illusion earlier.
“That would explain it.” She gives Lark another unreadable look before turning to me. “What did I say, girl?”
“Um, to use only a little soap. But I swear—I tried…”
Her free hand comes to my shoulder. “I said to relax. Take a breath, Val. You look like you’re going to pass out. Did you get hurt? You took an impressive tumble to rip your trousers enough that you were flashing us all.”
“M’fine,” I mumble, the heat in my cheeks saying otherwise.
Lark chuckles. “It sounds like I missed a good show.”
Chapter 12
Lark
“You’re going to take a nice, long nap, aren’t you, Happy girl?”
Eevi’s tiny fingers curl around mine as I tuck a blanket over her. On the big bed behind us, Hugo scurries in small, determined circles, his tiny paws rustling against the worn quilt. He stops to squeak, then spins the other way.
“See, Hugo says it’s nap time. While you sleep, I have a certain princess coming over, whom I need to impress.”
Hugo squeaks. Mocking this time.
