“I was in a border town between Rux and Akra, working for money for drink. Silence stretched between them as they both searched for words. “No,” he replied in a voice just as hushed, searching her face. He opened his eyes and Anastasia met them, fingers pausing over his scar. She touched the fine web of wrinkles at his temples, the deep grooves beside his mouth but both of them knew where she was headed. Too good an opportunity to pass up, Anastasia ran her fingers lightly over his eyelids, skimming the bridge of his nose and measuring the length of his jaw. He shuddered when she touched him, eyes gliding closed. Lightly, with just the tips of her fingers, she traced the outline of his face, the thick tangle of his untrimmed beard, rough bristles turning to soft strands as she moved up, sweeping his long hair over his shoulder so she could examine his ear and neck. He met her gaze questioningly but Anastasia wasn’t interested in explaining herself. On impulse she reached up to touch his cheek, raising her head and tilting his chin so they were eye to eye. Something about the solid bulk of him, and his unwavering support of her quest made her feel comfortable in a way she never had outside of Easthaven. Without Selah he was her only friend, and right now he was the closest thing she had to her home, for he reminded her of home, though he’d never been there that she knew. Since before her confinement all those years ago she had trusted his judgement, his kindness for her, taking his strength as her own when she needed it. Once such a powerful stench had alarmed her but now it merely smelled of him, and the knowledge that he was near put her at ease like nothing else. It was no wonder Zaxa preferred to spend his nights drinking here, listening for news rather than sitting idle at the house.Īnastasia breathed deeply, that scent of him, of sweat, and alcohol, the faint oil and flower perfume of the soap they all used, the smell of the meat he’d eaten, and of the wood he’d been working with today. Anastasia’s greatest friend was gone, her family somewhere in the North they knew, but not where, and she herself remained in a precarious position, always under threat. It was a good situation, better than they could have hoped but, even with the kindness of their hosts and Selwin’s good health, they were tired of pretending. His opposite hand came up to cup her cheek, stroking the dirt and grime with a calloused thumb as they shared a silent moment of understanding. After a moment of hesitation she slid in beside him, and when he didn’t move she carefully rested her cheek against his arm, sighing a little. She found him in the back of the smokey room, glowering into the dregs of a pint, oblivious to his surroundings. Tucking her hair self-consciously behind her burning ear, she bowed a little and they turned back to their drinks and conversations, grumbling a bit if she dripped on them. She turned the latch to find most of the bar staring at her. Getting to her feet and cursing her own stupidity she ran the last few steps and swung the door open, slamming it against the sudden downpour. The roads were muddy already and they sucked at her boots until she tripped, sprawling in the grime. After a moment of indecision, Anastasia grabbed his cloak and dashed off to the tavern. There was no sign of Zaxa when she stepped into the two-room apartment they shared in the loft of Errol and Gemma’s house. Go up and rest, I’ll call you when it’s ready.” Wiping her hands on her apron, Gemma came to stand at Anastasia’s side, gazing down into the crib. “That’s my Selwin,” Anastasia murmured fondly. I wish my girls had been as calm and quiet as him when they were young.” “He’s a funny one that boy,” Gemma continued, stirring a pinch of herbs and salt into the pot, “never a peep and always smiling. Smiling, Anastasia touched the golden curls, same color as his mother’s though with his father’s texture, lightly so as not to disturb the sleeping babe. Storms seem to calm him, they always make me nervous,” Gemma said. Anastasia peeked over her shoulder, humming in anticipation before she approached the crib in the corner. Laughing she dashed into the house, catching the tail end of Gemma’s grin where she stirred the pot over the fire. It was autumn again, a year and two seasons since Anastasia first set foot in the Riverlands, but she had yet to get used to the deluge when it did decide to rain. Squinting at the sky Anastasia saw clouds gathering on the horizon and managed to get everything in before the first drops fell. “Anne, could you bring in the washing?” Gemma called from her place at the window. Leaning back to stretch Anastasia saw the sun had begun to set, washing the fields in reds and golds.
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