Page 132 of Wolfkissed
“Whoa, my friend,” he says softly. “Don’t bite, okay? We’re friends.”
The dog keeps barking up a storm, though, snapping at Valen, until the goatherd joins us. It’s a wizened, old man dressed in shaggy clothes and a cloak, a leather bag slung across his chest.
He blinks at us, his mouth agape. “Who in the hells are you? You’re trespassing on Lord Eorl’s lands, this is a crime punishable by?—”
“I’m his betrothed,” I interrupt and watch his mouth flap some more without a sound.
“And I’m her bodyguard,” Valen says, not missing a beat. “We are guests of honor. So will you rein in this hellhound of yours and lead us to the manor?”
To his credit, the old goatherd doesn’t question Valen’s definition of us as “guests of honor” and my claim of being Lord Eorl’s betrothed. In the state we are both in, bedraggled and filthy, Valen bare-chested, and barefoot, me with my hair down and tangled and dirt smudged all over me, well… You get the picture.
My guess is that he’s half-blind. It’s the only explanation.
He turns around and goes, calling his dog to his side, and we follow him down trails through the fields, finally reaching a road with wheel ruts that seems to lead straight to the manor. It’s still some distance off, and after a while, the goatherd takes his leave of us to take his goats to their pen. He’s probably also shedding all responsibility in one stroke, in case we turn out to be villains looking to harm the owner of the manor.
We keep walking down the dirt road in silence, avoiding patches of mud and pools of water. The manor looms ever larger, and I fight the nerves rising to choke me.
This is it. We’ve made it. We’re here.
When we round a bend and see it just a stone’s throw away, I feel giddy. Dizzy. I slow to a stop, and Valen turns to face me.
“All right, Princess?”
“You shouldn’t call me that,” I whisper without much thinking. But it’s true. He can’t call me that in front of other people. It’s too affectionate. Too intimate.
His expression closes down. “Of course.”
“I remember what you said about assumptions. We shouldn’t stand close together. Or hold hands.” I press said hands against my dress, the sadness swamping me. “We should keep our distance.”
“You’re right. That’s what we’ll do.” He’s still gazing at me, expectantly. I don’t know what else he thinks I’m about to say.
“Let’s go, then,” I finally mutter.
“Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I mean it, Rosie. They may question you about your time with me in the woods, about your honesty, about your family. Do you have your story straight?”
“I don’t have to worry about that. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He nods, his jaw clenching. “I know, but people are strange creatures and are eager to find fault with everyone. Remember that.”
Pressing my lips together, I start walking, moving past him and toward the manor. “That’s the way of the world. But thank you for the reminder.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
ROSAMUND
Lord Eorl’s manor is surrounded by a wall that has to be enclosing gardens and various outhouses. To enter, we first have to go through a gate. It stands wide open as a carriage rolls out and onto the road we’re standing on. We step to the side as the heavy wooden wheels splash through mud. The curtains are drawn. The coachman doesn’t pay us any attention as he cracks his whip and the horses accelerate.
I clasp my cold, raw hands together. Valen starts toward the manor once more, and I hurry after him. It feels… strange to be back in civilized lands again. Populated lands. Among humans. My kind.
We splash through more mud as we enter through the open gate and cross the manor grounds. As I’d thought, I see vegetable patches and fruit trees on one side, stables and storehouses on the other. The stone-paved path leading to the manor door is busy with people coming and going, some of them carrying parcels and tools.
We both slow down, and I duck my head as many eyes turn on us, a suspicious glint in them. Nobody stops us, though, and we reach the manor door. More people are visible inside, in the great hall. We step over the threshold and into a hive of activity.
People move to-and-fro, carrying boxes, crates and bundles. Servants walk around, carrying trays and pots. I wonder how far into the manor we can get before someone stops us… and on cue, a butler steps in our path.
