Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(11)

The smell had always called to me, though I hated it.

I tried not to react, which was fairly easy when the pain of the rainfall still consumed every inch of me. The water had soaked through my clothes now, and all the salt water from the ocean had been washed away, leaving nothing but the blaze.

Rivelin glanced at my hands. My skin was growing redder by the moment. Without another word, he handed me a towel and a dry pair of nightclothes: soft linen trousers in an emerald green with a matching tunic. By the look of them, they were clearly women’s garments.

“Why do you have this?” I said with a shudder, my jaw still clenched from the unyielding pain.

“Don’t worry about that now. Just go get changed.” He motioned to a closed door at the end of a short hallway. I stumbled forward, barely taking in the rest of the home. All I could focus on was my feet—on one step in front of the other. Shaking, I shoved inside the room.

The scent of dragons grew stronger, but I barely paid it any attention. I tossed the fresh trousers on the bed, wriggled out of my wet clothes, and breathed in a ragged breath of relief. My hands shook as I toweled off the rain. With every brush of the fabric against my skin, the pain faded until it was nothing more than a dull ache. My skin was still red, but no welts had formed yet. I’d likely feel fine in the morning.

Thanks to the elf.

I pulled on the soft nightclothes and then took a moment to look around the room. It reeked of sulphur, so strongly that there was no doubt in my mind Rivelin had been in contact with a dragon or a Draugr not that long ago. A day at most. Maybe two.

Curious, since all the dragons were dead.

The room itself was sparsely decorated. A small bed took up most of the space, covered in periwinkle sheets and a patchwork quilt faded by sun and time. Beside it sat a single nightstand that held a glowing lantern and a leather-bound book. A storage chest at the foot of the bed was the only other piece of furniture.

A knock sounded on the door, startling me. I pressed down the front of the nightclothes and tried to look nonchalant, though I wasn’t the one hiding something.

“Everything all right?” Rivelin called out through the door.

I cleared my throat. “Yes, I’m dressed now. You can come in.”

The door swung wide, and Rivelin stepped into the bedroom. His eyes glowed as they trailed across me, and a strange heat filled my cheeks. I folded my arms, suddenly all too aware the shirt was pale and thin. I’d pulled off my undergarments along with everything else. Could he see through the material?

“Grab your wet clothes and follow me,” he said in a gruff voice.

I frowned at his tone but used the towel to gather my clothes from where I’d piled them on the floor, then followed him back down the hallway. We came to a large living space I’d only seen a glimpse of on my way inside. Unlike the bedroom, furniture and knickknacks filled the room, along with a cozy sofa, a ruggedly constructed desk, an armchair, and a woven rug. A fire blazed in the hearth, spilling heat across my chilled body.

Rivelin took my clothes from my arms and went over to a rack beside the hearth. He hung them without a word, carefully arranging them like he’d done this very thing a hundred times before. Everything about this moment struck me as odd, especially his gentle actions and this cheery room, so unlike the man he’d shown himself to be—so far, anyway.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked, finally cutting through the silent tension.

“I’m not being nice.” He turned to face me. The orange flames splashed light onto one side of his face, leaving the other half hidden in shadow. “I just didn’t want your clothes dripping water all over my floor. It’ll warp the wood.”

Of course. “Such a gentleman.”

“This is the living space,” he said, ignoring my quip. He pointed at an archway leading to the rear side of the building. “Through there is the kitchen and the pantry, though I’m not much of a cook. You’ve seen the bedroom already.”

“And the spare room where I’m staying? Where’s that?”

He folded his arms. “You’ll be staying in the room I already showed you.”

“Where’s your bedroom, then?”

“Don’t get any wild ideas in your head.”

I snorted, though I couldn’t stop my cheeks from heating. “In your bloody dreams.”

“More like my worst nightmare.” He grinned, though there was nothing cheerful about his expression, especially since it resulted in flashing his sharp canines. They glinted like the deadly look in his eyes.

“You don’t actually have a guest room, do you?” I eyed him and then searched the room for something I could use as a weapon. “Why did you really bring me here? Is this your demented way of getting rid of the emperor’s murk? You lured me into your home so you could kill me?”

“Like I told you on the beach, we don’t do violence here. Unless you do something to provoke it.”

“So then what do you want with me?” I folded my arms. “You were eager to get rid of me before, and I know how you feel about who I am and what I’ve done for the emperor. You’re not just offering me your bed out of the goodness of your heart. You want something.”

“You’re right,” he said with a nod before motioning to the sofa. “I’ll be sleeping there. You can have the bed. In return, I want you to help me win the Midsummer Games. You’ll be my assistant, my teammate.”