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Aedon silenced at once, and his belly somersaulted until Brand’s arms tightened around him again, but he could not stop the grin that split his face until it ached. This was the best part. Forget the thrill of the chase. What Aedon loved most was the smug enjoyment of a successful mission.
5
HARPER
Harper wove through the crowded streets of Glymouth, wending her way through the town’s lower levels. Past the docks where the stink never left the air and the gutters ran red with the guts of butchered fish. Past the market traders hawking their wares, though hardly anybody boasted fresh produce, for it had been an even barer harvest than usual from the barren lands of Denholme County. Past the inns, lodges, and hostels that housed travellers like her. Harper would return home that day. She could not afford even the most meagre of them.
It was busy, unusually so, and abuzz, but Harper did not know what would be so interesting in such a remote place. They could hardly still be talking of the birth of the new prince, far away in the capital city. That had been last month’s gossip.
The tanner had hides already drying in his cobblestone courtyard when she came upon it, gratefully ducking into the empty square away from the crushing throng and the sweat and musk clinging to it. For a moment, she paused to watch him before he perceived her. He bent to his work, wielding the blade skillfully to scour and scrape the hide before him without nicking a hole in it.
Those muscled shoulders towered over the rack. His arms bulged—forearms visible under rolled up sleeves—as he scraped down a bearskin, sweat beaded on his brow. Something still coiled low and deep in her core for Alric. Handsome and honourable, he was a rare breed, but she had not personally enjoyed the angles and planes of his body for years now. Still. It was some small pleasure to look and remember how it had felt to run her hands down his body as she had worshipped him in the woods. She wrenched her glance away before he caught her staring.
Harper swallowed her dismay as she looked at the fine stags and even finer wolf hides surrounding him in the yard. Her paltry rabbit skins would fetch hardly anything. It would barely be worth the effort of coming and missing a shift at the inn. She pushed the thought from her mind and gathered up her hides, straightening her back.
“Hey, lass,” the tanner said, grinning when he saw her, that one-sided smile something she knew he saved just for her. She smiled coyly in response and followed him inside.
Oh yes—Alric was still as handsome as ever, though he would never be hers. Their adolescent romance had been a whirlwind and half a dream, but nothing more, though he had always been kind to her since, and she him. Alric had been promised to the harbour master’s daughter, whether he liked it or not, and Harper had not dallied with him in the five years since they had wed, nor had he sought her warmth out. In the cold, dark, lonely hours of the night she sometimes resented that honour of his that she had first been so drawn to.
His sharp-eyed wife lurked in the shadow of the stairwell, and Harper wiped the heat from her attention upon Alric. The woman knew exactly who had come a-calling. Knew their history. Had lorded it over Harper when she’d married Alric. But Harper knew they’d had no babes—five years, and not one. None would come now, Harper reckoned, if they had not already, but she took no pleasure in that. Alric would need someone to carry on his work when he grew old. Harper carefully avoided her gaze all the same.
Alric paused his work and straightened with a grimace from being hunched for so long, bracing an arm against his lower back and stretching out with a groan. “What have you brought me this time?” As he spoke, he wiped the sharp blade on the rough leather swinging from his belt to clear it of the flesh he’d expertly scraped from his latest hide.
“A bunch of coneys, Alric,” she admitted. “But I’d like to make a deal if I can.” She held up the rabbits by their ears for his examination.
“Sure, sure,” he said, but she saw how the anticipation faded from his eyes. “I can take ‘em, but I can’t give you much, lass. Rabbit hide i’nt worth much this season, what with the bounty of wolves I’ve been a-having from the hunters.” Harper waited until he finished, then offered the hides to him.
“I understand,” she said, strangling her pride as much as her desperation. Whatever you can give me will help. She swallowed the words. She would not lower herself to beg. “Mind, these are from the west woods. Rarer than what anyone else’ll be bringing your way of rabbits. From my best warrens. The hide on these is supple and soft. Highest quality. Ladies in the town’ll need these for their slippers or whatever ridiculous fashions they’re wanting this winter.”
There was that smile again. He shot her a small look that made her toes curl and ran his finger over the soft fur, examining the inside of the skin. Harper remembered the feel of those calluses grazing her inner thighs. His hands were soft and gentle for a man so large.
“You did a good job skinning these. You’re getting better.”
“I learned from the finest.”
He batted away her compliment with a giant hand. “You’re too kind. But I’m glad all the same. A better hide means a better price when I sell it, and I can give you a copper more for them. You do bring me the finest. There’s good trapping down your neck of the woods, Miss Harper.”
He counted out the coins. Satisfaction coiled in her belly. Wife be damned, he never haggled and always gave her the highest price, right on the edge of what they were worth, leaving little room for his own gains. That he still cared meant more to her than she could express. “I’ll see you soon, Miss Harper.”
Harper clamped down on the warmth that bloomed at the promise of those words. She absolutely wouldn’t be seeing him soon. Not for that. And if her growing determination to leave bore fruit, she’d not be seeing too much more of him ever again. She wasn’t quite sure how that made her feel—that was lumped in on the edge of the complex bundle of feelings that the thought of leaving Betta elicited.
Harper paused on the threshold so her eyes could adjust from the darkness inside his workshop to the weak sunlight piercing through the grey clouds. It made the city appear ever more bleak. The grey stone under the grey sky by the grey sea. She tucked her cloak around her before diving into the maelstrom, keeping her eyes and ears open—to soon find it was a celebration for the marriage of the lord’s daughter to one of his most decorated men.
Pausing amongst the throng of people cheering the procession past, Harper watched too. A striking warrior parading his glowing maiden. His armour gleamed, his horse’s coat shone, and his face bore the plumpness of wealth. And her? Harper could not help but feel a sting of jealousy as she beheld his bride. Soft hair radiated in a golden wave down her back, in perfect contrast with the royal blue cloak she wore, hemmed with white ermine. Silks rippled across her grey mare and jewellery glistened at her throat, her ears, her fingers. Her eyes were bright and clear, her perfect teeth—not a one of them missing—flashing from between blush-stained lips as she took in the adoration of the crowd.
I bet she doesn’t have to sell rabbit hides and serve arseholes beer to put food in her belly.
Harper’s pang of jealousy turned to disdain as she saw the doting adoration the lord’s daughter emanated toward her new husband, fluttering her lashes at him. As much as Harper denied even the rare offers of a dalliance those days, Harper could not pretend it was because she was holding out for hope of marriage. Who would want her? A penniless orphan with no dowry or assets had nothing to bring to a union. Yet neither would Harper be content to play wife and broodmare. And what did she need a husband for? She had survived for years on her own. What value could a man bring that she could not, save for warming her bed every night? Harper was no fool. She knew what would be her sole duty as a wife. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought.
She looked at the warrior. He radiated self-assurance. That was who she envied. Not the simpering slip of a young woman riding at his side, beautiful as she was with her doe eyes and willowy frame draped in luxurious fabrics. As much as the cheering crowd waved to their lady, it was to him the ladies lining the way threw flowers and favours, to him the menfolk looked with respect in their stern gazes. That was the kind of status she wanted—the power to make her own way in the world.
After a warm meal to fill her belly, she turned away from town with a heavy heart. Away from dreams of the warrior and grandeur. Back to her dreary, cold shack and the adventures she lived by re-reading the tattered pages of her much-loved storybook.
6
DIMITRI
Dimitri rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the relief of it. It had been a hard morning with the king, relaying just enough information to earn his rewards, but not so much that he lost all leverage over those he had incriminated.
