Legendary Loves Volume 2

Chapter 3-2

The sun has climbed high in the sky as I return to my cabin. Vinge is still there, sitting on the floor in front of the fire, arms around his shins, and he’s helped himself to some of the clothes from my chest.

My gaze flickers to his kaftan still hanging on the rack by the hearth; it must be dry by now, but before I can ask, he speaks.

“I hope you do not mind that I borrowed your clothes. They are so warm. Like an embrace.”

I take another look at what he’s wearing. The garments are too big on him, so the thick woolen tunic that reaches my knees, hangs to his calves, the long socks disappear under the tunic, and his feet are encased in the moccasins I put on him yesterday.

My clothes are nothing special. The simple, practical garments folks around here like to wear, and nothing at all like his finery.

But he’s right in one aspect. They are warm.

“I do not mind.” I hang my bow and quiver on their hooks by the front door, pull off my cloak and boots, and step into my moccasins. I cross the floor to the cellar hatch and climb down with the rest of the rabbits, hanging them from the ceiling, needing to get some food into my belly before I gut and skin them.

When I return upstairs, Vinge has prepared bowls of soup for us, and he hands me one before sitting down on the floor by the fire.

“Thank you.” I briefly bow my head, and he nods in response before I sit in the rocking chair and eat the soup. It’s warm and lovely—just what I need after this morning’s trek.

“Were you on a hunt?” he asks after we’ve emptied our bowls in silence and refilled them.

I shake my head. “I visited the Northern Springs. They are not far from here. I had a debt to pay to the Maidens.”

“I understand. How was your visit?”

I shrug. “I did not stay for long. I never do.”

“Neither do I, to the chagrin of my mother.”

I look into his eyes and see a reflection of my own beliefs—or lack thereof—in the deep darkness. I see someone who bows his head to the Maidens because it’s proper, not because of a profound faith that they guide all our actions and should be obeyed in all matters.

Our gazes are locked a moment longer before I look away. Understanding like I can read in his features is rare, but I don’t feel the need to address it. It just is.

“I am glad you have recovered,” I say instead. “You gave me quite the scare when you fell through my door last night.”

“I feel much better. Thank you for taking me in.”

“Anyone would have done the same.”

He nods. “That is true. But not everyone would have trusted a complete stranger so much they left him alone in their home. Not everyone would have cared for me as thoroughly as you did or kept guard over me during a large portion of the night. Not everyone would bite back the questions burning on their tongues like you do. Most everyone would have done the minimum required for the care of a stranger, and bid me farewell first thing in the morning.”

I’m glad he’s looking away during his speech, because his words make my face burn with pride, and pride over one’s own actions was another thing frowned upon by my father. But I can’t deny that Vinge’s words fill me with a deep satisfaction. My heart aches with a need to make sure he’s well. I can’t explain it, but it’s there nonetheless.

“Thank you for your kind words,” I mumble.

“Thank you for your kind actions. The Maidens would be very pleased.” There’s a twinkle in his eye when he says it, but he doesn’t smile.

We finish the rest of the meal in silence, and when I move to stand, he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. He plucks the bowl out of my hands and washes up after us.

I feed more wood into the fire and fill the kettle with water. “Tea?”

“Please.”

The blazing fire warms the cabin, and we drink our tea at the table instead of on the floor by the hearth. “Do you need to send a message to anyone?” I ask. “I can walk to the village. They can help find a courier.”

“I appreciate your kindness, but no. It is not necessary. No one misses me.”

I frown. “Forgive my bluntness, but that seems unlikely. Your clothing indicates you have a noble family, and nobility does not abandon their kin.”

He looks at me over the rim of his tea bowl, as though he’s trying to decide whether to tell me the truth or not. I remain relaxed. If he wants to tell me, he will. And if not, I will live with his decision, no matter how much the curiosity eats me from the inside.

And maybe it’s me not pressing him with questions that helps him make up his mind, or maybe it’s the strange presence of his spirit next to mine, but he starts to speak.

“No one abandoned me. I left on my own accord with my parents’ blessing.”

“But you did not carry any things.”

“I had a pack but lost it when I fell.”

I frown. “Fell?”

“Yesterday morning. Or maybe the day before, I do not really know. It was foggy and muddy, and I slipped and tumbled down a slope. I must have hit my head because I lost consciousness. I do not know how long I remained unconscious before I came to.”

“Is your head hurt? Do you need a healer?” I hadn’t noticed anything when he’d arrived, but I hadn’t checked his head that closely for injuries.

“No, I am fine. I have a small bump here”—he rubs a spot on the back of his head—”but it is healing nicely. Anyway, it was dark when I woke up and the fever was making me weak, so I was unable to find my things.”

“Did you walk far to get to my cabin?”

“I did not.”

“Did you see anything notable where you fell, something to help you identify the spot? Did you pass by a burned down barn on your way to my house?”

He rubs a knuckle against his temple and knits his eyebrows together. “I do not think I saw a barn.”

I nod. He had taken the southern path then. Maybe I can look for his things now that I know from which direction he had come. His pack should be untouched. There’s not much foot traffic on the southern path; the village is north-east of my cabin and villagers have their own path leading south, and my home butts up to the edge of the deep forest that’s close to impenetrable unless you’re familiar with the paths.

“Where are you headed?” I ask.

“Just…away.” He sips his tea and looks out the window. The sky is clear, and the sun shines brightly, but the frost is still clinging to my windows. Not long now until the snow comes. Vinge’s gaze grows distant. “To someplace where I can find myself.”

That’s very imprecise. And completely the opposite of my life. I’ve always had a destination in mind—big or small—whenever I travel somewhere. I have a task to fulfill, a job that needs to be done, or a person to see. I’ve never wandered aimlessly anywhere, not even as a small child.

That’s not entirely true, my mind whispers, reminding me of the time I’ve spent roaming the forest lately.

But I always had a destination in mind, a task to fulfill. Recently I’ve just been remiss in doing it.

I shove the thoughts from my brain. I’m in no position to judge anyone, less now than ever. “I hope you will find what you seek. Have you traveled far from home?”

He nods. “Many days. At least twelve.”

“Maybe you need to stop and rest. Regain your strength properly from your illness and think on where to go next.”

“Perhaps.”

“You may rest here, if you wish.” The words are out of my mouth before I know how it happened—I’d had no intention of offering him my home—but I find I mean it.

Slowly, he turns his head to me. His gaze bores into mine as though he’s trying to see into my soul, as though he’s trying to ascertain whether I’d meant it or not. I let him look for as long as he needs without trying to break eye contact.

“Why?” he asks.

“I do not really know. But I admit I have many questions burning inside me, and if you leave now, I will never know the answers.”

“You are honest.”

A corner of my mouth lifts in a self-depreciating smile. “Too honest, according to my father.”

He nods. “A trait we have in common, then.”

“Who are you?”

“You know my name.”

“Knowing your name is nowhere near enough. Why do I feel you inside me?” I pat my palm against my breastbone.

“I do not know.”

“Who are you?” I repeat.

He gets up, takes our bowls, walks to the cabinet, and pours more tea from the pot. His back is rigid, his shoulders bunched around his ears. “That depends on who you ask.” He sets the bowls on the table, tea sloshing over the rim of his, splashing onto his hand. He winces and blows on his skin as he sinks onto the bench. “I’m a failure, a disappointment, and a disgrace.”

I c**k my head. Harsh words to say to anyone, let alone your own child, because there’s no doubt in my mind that those insults were spoken by his parents.

My mother died giving birth to me, so I never knew her. And while my father was strict and demanding, I never doubted his regard and affection for me. I can’t imagine having words like that hurled at me from the people who are meant to care for me the most.

His answer doesn’t really tell me anything because I don’t believe either of those things are true. “And if I ask you who you are, what would the answer be?”

He deflates in front of my eyes as though he expected me to take him at his words, rescind my offer to stay, and bid him farewell, and was surprised when it didn’t happen.

“I am someone who has tried his entire life to live up to his parents’ expectations,” he mumbles into his bowl. “Someone who has tried his hardest to become what is expected of him, what he was born to be, but without success. It is beyond my reach, and I cannot…I cannot…”

“That sounds like a heavy burden to bear.”

“It should not be, that is the most frustrating of it all. It is in my nature. It should come easy to me like it has done for everyone in my family. But…” He shakes his head.

“Admittedly, I do not know anything about your kin, but surely they must realize that everyone is different?”

“You do not understand.”

“Then help me.”

He turns his gaze on me again like before. Digging deep into my being, trying to see what lies in my heart. I want to open my chest and present it to him, let him see it’s pure and worthy of his trust.

Our gazes stay locked forever, or maybe the Maidens are slowing down time, waiting for us to work out what needs to be cleared up.

But then he nods, and I relax.

“My family is not nobility like you thought. We are…I come from a Pegasus family.”