Page 81 of Lost in the Dark

“No.”She increased her pace, knowing he’d struggle to catch her—unable to trust herself not to weaken if he did. If he sought to stop her, he’d fail. It didn’t matter whether he was a hare or a fox in this household—it didn’t matter if she’d arrived as a hare, driven from its home with nowhere left to turn. She’d decided to be a fox and she would claim her place as mistress here.

Or let the mora take my soul.

Increasing her pace, she walked straight into the kitchen. The smell of dying vegetables assaulted her senses.

“Here now,” Gude snapped. “What are you about, entering my kitchen when his lordship has told you to keep your distance? I’m preparing the lord’s feast for the Midwinter Tyne and you’ll—”

“I will have meat with my dinner tonight, Gude.” Shoulders back, chin high, Anna turned to the cook and dropped the animals upon the central block. “See it’s prepared to my liking.”

Not all monsters lurked in the woods, Anna had realized. Some sat at a freshly oiled wooden table and pretended to discuss the weather. They hunched in chairs too large for a normal man, and ate from bowls of stew better sized for an ogre, and the shadows hugged their giant figures.

Anna might not be certain whether Enulf was fox or hare, but she’d no such doubts about her husband’s cherished cook. Particularly as her portion of stew contained only a single, small piece of meat.

Not surprising.

Across from her, Gude’s eyes glittered like chips of jet in the firelight.

Seated in her smaller chair, with her much smaller bowl, she took a careful spoonful of her stew and surveyed the rest of the table. Simple enough, as there were only ever three others. Overflowing from the carved seat at the head of the table, Lord Rathbytten was fascinated by the contents of his bowl.

And tucked in the corner, Enulf avoided her gaze. He’d not looked at her once—which was for the best.

She’d nothing more to say to him.

All three of them were larger now, somehow resembling adults forced to sit in chairs sized for children. Gude only seemed bigger. But his lordship and Enulf showed other changes—green and purple tinges to their skin, hair more blue than black, and the hint of tusks at the corners of their mouths.

Her fingers tightened on her spoon.

The urge to run—to hide—beat faster in her chest, but she already knew she had nowhere to go.

She glanced again at Enulf.

A lock of hair dropped across his forehead, and she hated that her traitorous fingers wanted to brush it aside. The rest of her was even worse. Pulsing and aching from the memory of his tongue…

Demons take it.

Impossible pleasure or not, she refused to beg him to change his mind—even if she had no idea what else to do about him. He denied whatever it was between them, and left her alone in the dark with yet darker words. She chewed on the gamey hunk of meat in her bowl, determined to get every ounce of nourishment from that poor hare, and considered her plan of action: to embody the mistress of this house.

It wasn’t exactly a complete plan, but she’d stolen a poor, dead hare for dinner and prepared as best she could.

Might as well finish.

She finished her stew with a quarter of her bread, and laid her hands neatly on the table. “My Lord,” she said, shifting her gaze to Rathbytten’s robust figure. “Should I prepare to receive the tailor tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow.” He took a swallow of ale, gave a contented burp. “The next day.”

“But—”That’s what you said yesterday. She bit her tongue. “Thank you, my Lord. You deserve a wife who looks like a queen. I intend to be that wife. To be the mistress of this house in every way.”

“It would be a pity to disrupt your efforts with a rag and bucket,” Gude muttered.

“Place is looking good,” Rathbytten grunted.

“Thank you, my Lord.” Satisfaction swelled her chest. Finally, he’d noticed her efforts—she could still make this work. The nobility married for position all the time—who said a poor girl from the northern moors couldn’t make the same work for her. “I intend to please you and this house by dressing as befits my station.”

“Station? Hah!” Gude showed a line of sharp teeth. The expression might have passed for a smile—on a fox. “No need for new clothes just for cleaning,Mistress.”

Anna sucked in a breath between her teeth.

The cook was determined to be her enemy.

---