“It’s fine, really. I’m appreciative just for this,” she said, lifting the meat in gesture and then finishing it. He held out his bread roll, and a small smile escaped from her as she took it. He offered his meat as well, but she politely shook her head.
“I know you want it,” he said.
“Thank you, but I’m full.”
He knew she wasn’t, but he didn’t press. He watched her for a moment and smiled, then folded the meat back in the cloth instead of eating it and tucked it into his pack for her later.
“You shouldn’t carry a drifter’s dagger,” he said as she finished the last of the bread. “Here.” He pulled a knife from the sheath on his calf, tucked inside his boot, and held it out for her. “This suits you better.”
She reached out and took it. The blade was shorter, and the hilt fit her hand better. It was his favorite knife, custom made and well taken care of, unlike the rusted drifter’s dagger with open seams along its handle.
He pulled off his calf sheath and held it out to her as well. “Put this around your leg, inside your boot, with the knife where you can easily reach it.”
She slipped the blade into the sheath and stared down at it in her hands. When she raised her eyes again, they locked with his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “No need to thank me. It’s my duty.”
Even in the dim light of the room, the storms of her blue eyes pulled him in, holding him. “We should get some rest,” she said.
Yes. Rest. Alexander rose and pulled open the second pack. He shook out a rolled pad over the meager bed. “You sleep here. I can’t promise comfort, but it’s clean. I’ll be by the door.”
Norah gave a small nod. She settled in, creaking the bed frame with every movement. He pulled a chair to the door and sat with his sword unsheathed and resting across his knees.
But as she lay, she didn’t close her eyes. She only stared at the ceiling. “What happened?” she asked finally. “I have to know. Why did my father take me away?”
He sat quiet. This wasn’t a short story, and not one of the first he wanted to welcome her home with.
“Tell me,” she pressed.
Alexander let out a long breath. “We were at war, and they were coming for you.” He paused. “Your father feared your capture, and so he took you. Far. Somewhere safe.”
“Who was coming for me?” she asked.
“These aren’t stories to tell in the night. You’re safe, Norah. There’s so much to remember, to learn. There will be plenty of time.” But he knew his answers only drew more questions. “Rest,” he said. “There will be more tomorrow.”
Finally, she closed her eyes. After a time, her breaths came longer and deeper. He relaxed in the chair, but he wouldn’t sleep. Not until he safely got her home.
Chapter four
Norah woke to the sound of a crackling fire. She pulled the blanket higher around her neck and nestled into its warmth. It smelled of pine and soft leather, comfort and refuge—a familiar smell, a smell she’d always loved. She smiled as she blinked her eyes open. But unfamiliar stone walls looked back at her, and her smile faded.
Where was she?
Memories of the day prior flooded back, and she sat up with a start. The blanket that covered her spilled down into her lap, and she saw it wasn’t a blanket at all, but Alexander’s cloak.
She glanced around the empty room. Where was he?
Sunlight poured in from the small window onto the bed and across the floor. Her racing heart slowed. She eyed the cloak again as she drew her fingers across it, all too aware of the sense it had given her.
The door opened, and Alexander stepped in with more firewood and something else in his hands. The smell made her stomach rumble. She pushed off the cloak and stood, straightening her dress and brushing her hair back from her face.
His eyes caught hers, and he paused, simply looking at her. His lips parted. “Good morning,” he said finally.
Even though he’d spoken only two words, his voice held a strange familiarity.
“Good morning,” she replied.
He broke from her gaze. “I hope you slept well. Are you hungry?” He held out a hand of freshly cooked meat with flatbread wrapped in linen. “There’s water by the fire.”
“That smells amazing, thank you,” she said, taking the food. “And I slept surprisingly well.”
Alexander refueled the fire and then sat on the edge of the hearth. He held his food in his hand but didn’t eat it.
Norah tried to keep her eyes from him as she ate, wary of the lure of his gaze and of the stir it caused inside her. “Yesterday you said you saw me in a vision—what was it?” she asked, refocusing herself on getting more answers. “How did you know to come for me?”
He shifted back on the hearth. “It was the last vision seen of you, three years ago, right before you left. We didn’t know what it meant at the time, but after you disappeared, we suspected it was a clue as to where you were. You were in the middle of a forest, with trees all around you, dressed as you are now.” He paused. “And your hair was… bright, shining. As it is now.”
She raised her eyes to his and found herself caught in the snare she had tried so hard to avoid.
“I’ve searched every forest this kingdom over,” he said, “well into Aleon and south into the lands of the Horsemen tribes. The Wild was the only place I’d stayed clear of. Until now.”
She gave him a small smile. “Because of the faeries?”
“Because men don’t return from there.”
Norah bit her lip, feeling her jest poorly placed.
“It was the last place I thought I’d find you,” he added.
Well, it was the last place he found her, but she kept that joke to herself. This wasn’t a joking matter. She’d seen firsthand the dangers of this land of no return. She pulled herself free of the shackles of his eyes and finished the last of her meal. “I still doubt that I’m the person you say.”
He offered her his meat and bread.
She shook her head. “I’ve had enough, thank you. You eat.” He hadn’t eaten his food the evening prior. She suspected he’d saved it for her.
“You are Norah Andell. I wouldn’t mistake you, no matter how much time had passed.” He settled back, finally taking some of his own food. “Wait until you return home. You’ll see.”
Home. That word seemed so distant right now.
“Speaking of, we should go.” He smiled. “Your grandmother has no idea she’s going to see you today. And Catherine Andell is not an easy woman to surprise. I’m very much looking forward to it.”
Norah couldn’t help but smile at the sense of his genuine excitement. But inside, her stomach twisted at the thought of meeting her grandmother.
Catherine. The name held no recollection. Yes, she expected the woman to be surprised, but this might not be the surprise she was hoping for—her lost granddaughter with no memory of herself or those who knew her. Norah turned her thoughts to their arrival, and the weight grew heavier in her stomach. People had been waiting a long time for her return; she wouldn’t be what any of them were expecting, and likely not what they hoped for. There would be people she’d be expected to know, expected to care about. People that cared about her.