Chapter 7

• I swallowed and blew out a breath. It would be nice to be clean, and bathing with a man made in the way of Rivyn certainly would not be unpleasant, even if it were utterly scandalous to do. I was a long way from my village, however, I decided, and when travelling, propriety sometimes had to be set aside in favour of practicality.
• I took off my trousers, still covered to mid-thigh by my tunic, and walked over to the tub. He closed his eyes politely as I got in, but I suspected him of peeking, so I pulled my tunic off at the last second, casting it to the side as I sunk into the water between his feet, my knees against my chest.
• He opened his eyes and regarded me with amusement. “It’s going to be hard to wash your hair like that. Come here,” he reached out and dragged me towards him, so that I sat between his knees with my back to him. “Work a lather into that,” he handed me the bar of soap, and tilted my chin back before pouring a cup of water over my hair.
• When my hair was wet through, he took the soap from me, and lathered my hair with it, before rinsing it off. I washed my face, neck and chest with a square of cloth the inn keeper’s wife had placed for our use. “Alright,” he took me casually by the waist and lifted me over his knees so that he could turn, presenting me with his back. I knelt in the water and washed his hair for him whilst he scrubbed himself.
• His hair was as beautiful as the man, I thought, black as coal, thick and heavy. I took longer washing it then I needed to, but he did not complain. When I was done, he rose from the bath without any modesty, so I caught a flashing glimpse of skin running with water before I looked away, flushing, and flustered. He caught up one of the rolled drying cloths and wrapped it around his waist.
• “Come on then, I won’t peek,” he said with laughter, holding a second out and closing his eyes again. I got out quickly, almost slipping on the wet floor, and wrapped myself in the cloth so that it covered me from shoulder to knee.
• “Well, then, isn’t that better?” He asked me, cheerfully, and went to the door, leaning out to call: “Madam!”
• I heard the inn keeper’s wife respond, and after a moment, she and two young girls entered with buckets. I sat on the bed and worked my fingers through my hair as they emptied the water from the tub with buckets, and then pushed it onto its side so that it could be rolled the room.
• “I don’t suppose,” Rivyn held out our clothing and exchanged them for another coin. “Clean clothes,” he added, pleased, closing the door behind them.
• “Excuse me,” I lifted the fairy man to the side so I could pull my spare tunic from my bag and put it on, removing the cloth once I was covered so I could use it to dry my hair.
• Rivyn raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s prepared,” he observed. “I was not granted the opportunity to pack with as much foresight, unfortunately.” He sat against the bedhead, arranging the pillows behind him, and picked up the book, happy to sit around with only a cloth tied around his waist. I slid looks at him from under my eyelashes. It was the most exposed I had ever seen a man, and Rivyn was not an average man in any way.
• This is what it would be like to have a husband, I thought, sitting in bed together, comfortably, with him mostly naked. Except that most husbands would not look like Rivyn, I amended. It would not be such a pleasing view to spend time with Tilef half dressed. Or spend time with Tilef at all, I amended with a sigh and hoped again that my father would not accept the man’s proposal on my behalf. I had already turned him down, but that meant little if my father accepted. These things were often worked out between men to the detriment of women, and the ways things had been in my home when I had left it, I would not be surprised if my father wanted to be done with it.
• His relationship with Gretha had already survived the scandal of the baby’s birth, and exposure of their affair to my mother. The villagers might talk about him behind his back, but they would not do so to his face, and his businesses would not suffer. There were different rules for men than women. If it had been my mother who had the affair, she would be ostracised to her face and utterly.
• Would I be considered ruined now? I wondered. Stolen from the road by a strange man, spending days and nights unsupervised in his company… Yes, I imagined my reputation would not survive this adventure. Tilef may not wish to marry me upon my return, and as much a relief it would be to have that out of the question, a future as a spinster with a tattered reputation was not a pleasant one, either.
• “I have a comb in my bag,” Rivyn set the book aside and swung himself off the bed, to fetch it. “Perhaps you would comb out my hair once you’ve done your own?” He held it out to me and returned to his book once I accepted it. I turned it over in my hands. It was elaborately and ornately carved out of some type of smooth, cool stone. A Fae comb. I wondered what it had been like to grow up a member of their court.
• I combed and braided my hair, tying it off with the string Anre had used to bind the scones and dried fruit. My fairy man was working his way through the fruit, there were fewer pieces then there had been. I turned to Rivyn when I was done.
• “Do you want it braided?” I asked him. “I only have the one piece of string.”
• “Combed through will be fine,” he turned on the bed, so his back was towards me. I knelt on the bed and began working the comb through his hair. It was beginning to dry and was warm from his body. He was heavily muscled for a mage. I had always thought of mages as quiet, studious types who locked themselves into towers and read incessantly between midnight walks through graveyards.
• “You don’t look like a mage,” I said, before thinking it through, and blushed immediately.
• “And what do mages look like?” he sent me a look over his shoulder.
• “I don’t know. Skinny and pale? You look more like a knight,” I decided.
• “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he returned to his book. Over his shoulder, I could see the writing, but I could not read it. It was uncomfortable to look at it too long. The writing looked as if I should know what it said, and yet, my eyes could not make it out, and that contradiction made my eyes lose focus. “It’s rude to read over someone’s shoulder,” he commented.
• “I can’t read it.”
• “You can see the writing?” he looked at me again.
• “Yes.”
• “Interesting.”
• I finished his hair and returned the comb to his bag with a sigh. “Now what?”
• “I’m reading,” he replied mildly.
• “Yes, but I am not. I cannot go out as I do not have any trousers. It’s too early to go to bed.”
• There was a knock at the door. “Yes,” Rivyn called out.
• The inn keeper’s wife opened the door slightly and looked in, running her eye over him with interest. “Would you like anything to eat or drink, my lord?” she asked.
• “Yes. Do you have any fruit and nuts? Or meat and cheese. Something like that. And a jug of beer, unless you have a decent wine?” he said. “That should help alleviate your boredom,” he told me.
• “Yes, my lord,” she lingered, and then withdrew reluctantly.
• “She’s hoping you’ll take her to bed,” I observed.
• “Yes. But I have you.”
• “I am not...”
• “No,” he was amused. “But it would be hardly polite to take her to bed with you in the room, would it?”
• “No, I guess not,” I flushed.
• “Besides, I don’t find her appealing.”
• After a time, the inn keeper knocked at the door, and carried in two chairs and a table from the tavern. His wife and daughters followed with a platter of food, a bottle of wine and two glasses, which they set upon the table. Rivyn, completely unconcerned about being seen wearing a slightly damp cloth wound around his waist and nothing else, gave them three coins before moving to take a seat.
• The fairy man popped out of my bag, interested in the new selection of food. I held out my hand and he sat upon my palm so I could transfer him over to the table. “I wish I had a thimble or something for him,” I commented taking the other seat as Rivyn poured the wine.
• “He’d get too drunk off men’s wine. Your concern and care for him is... odd. He is not a pet.”
• “Of course, he is not a pet,” I replied defensively. “But he is injured and needs care. If his wing mends and he can fly off, he is free to do so at any time. If he wishes to leave, I will not prevent him. But I won’t just abandon him.”
• Rivyn met my eyes and raised his eyebrows. “Men do not normally show care for fairy-kind.” His eyes were blue. I had not noticed previously, or perhaps it was because most of our time together had been either in the dark, or with him behind me on Coryfe. I had not had the opportunity to really look at him, closely enough to note his eye colour.
• “All creatures deserve kindness,” I replied, blushing and took a sip of wine. I could believe he had Fae in him, I decided. There was a beauty to his features that was not of mankind. I could understand the inn keeper’s wife’s interest. With his attention focussed on me, I could easily forget that he was a rude mage who had stolen me from my journey.
• “Mmm,” Rivyn ate a grape and picked up the book again. “You would not survive at the Fae Court.”
• “Why not?” I wondered.
• “It is... difficult to describe,” he frowned at his book, irritated that I was distracting him.
• “My mother wanted me to go to the standing stones on the Graceplains and offer myself in exchange for my brother.”
• He looked at me in surprise. “Your mother sounds like a very caring woman,” he said sharply.
• “She was not always like that. She is not well,” I replied. “My father has wanted an heir since before I was born, and except for me, all the other babies died. Until my brother. My father has a mistress, and she has also delivered him a girl child.”
• “The failing lies in your father,” he muttered, focusing back on his book. “The male determines the baby’s gender.”
• “How do you know that?” I was intrigued.
• He sighed. “Our healers are better than yours. I really need to read this, Siorin. I have a little under three weeks, and far to go before I am ready to claim back what is mine.”
• At least I had a time frame for how long until he returned me to my home and family. Did they miss me at home? I wondered. Or just think I was late in returning? Had my father borrowed a neighbour’s horse and ridden to Benal to seek me? Or had he decided I was not worth the effort? The little fairy man touched my hand and indicated he was ready to return to his bag. I carried him back and laid down in the bed, not wanting to disturb Rivyn further with my restlessness.
• I woke when Rivyn lay upon the bed beside me. The room was dark; he had read well into the night. He sighed heavily and then lay still. Reassured he was not going to behave indecorously, I let myself slip back into sleep.