Hunted(11)

It was Solmir.





BEAST


Something comes.

A man and a beast, moving slowly, scanning the ground. We watch from only a few feet away—we know how to disguise our scent from the canine. The man is surefooted and strong, if old for his kind, and we watch with interest. Something about him is familiar; we have encountered him before.

Yes, we know him. He would not have been the first hunter we turned to our purposes but he was the most promising. We were so certain he would be our salvation, until one day he vanished and never returned to the wood. It was years ago—or weeks? Perhaps generations. His hair has changed and his face has grown lines, but he walks with the same knowledge of the lifeblood of the wood.

We growl, the sound blending with the wind and the groaning of the trees under their weight of snow. We are patient. We still remember our plan.

As the man makes his way through the forest, the dog blowing steam at his side, we move on silent paws to follow.





THREE


YEVA STOOD ROOTED TO the spot, staring at Asenka as she stared at Solmir. Yeva was closest to the door, and knew she ought to greet him properly, but she felt that if she looked at him everything would unravel.

Finally Lena stepped forward, smoothing down her skirts as if they were made from fine silk, and not mud-spattered wool. “Welcome, sir!” she said, brushing past Yeva and holding her arms out for Solmir’s heavy cloak. “Please forgive us, you’re the first visitor we’ve had since we moved.”

Solmir let her remove his cloak with a murmur of thanks, glancing at her briefly before shifting his gaze back to Yeva. “I apologize for not sending word, but by the time a messenger arrived and returned, it would be a week gone at least. I have a room at the inn some leagues back—I can return another time if I’m inconveniencing you.”

“Of course not,” said Lena. “You must be cold. Please, sit here by the fire.” She pulled one of the chairs from the table over to the hearth, placing it nearer to Asenka’s than was necessary. Asenka, whose white face had gone red as she twisted her hands together in her lap, flashed Yeva a look of alarm.

Solmir shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Actually, I don’t have much time. Your father is not at home?”

Lena shook her head. “He is hunting,” she explained, one hand still on the back of the chair, as if hoping to usher him there by willpower alone.

His face fell a little. “Well, I will have to come back another time to speak with him—but that wasn’t my sole purpose.” Solmir had dropped his gaze to the floor, as if he might find his next words written there.

“Yes?” said Lena expectantly, the hand on the back of the chair creeping over to rest on Asenka’s shoulder.

“I—had hoped to be able to speak with Yeva.” His eyes flicked up, meeting Yeva’s before she looked away, startled. “Alone.”

Heart straining against her rib cage, Yeva could not help but look at her sisters. Lena’s face was blank, confused . . . but Asenka understood. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged; the flush of nervous excitement warming her face fled; her hands went still in her lap. She caught Yeva’s eye, and after a long, heavy second, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile.

Unable to stand it any longer, Yeva darted forward, fumbling for the latch of the door. “As you can see,” she said harshly, “we have only the one room aside from the bedrooms. I will speak with you outside, if you please.”

She stumbled out into the snow without waiting to see if Solmir would follow. Why, she thought furiously, could it not have been Radak? In her haste she’d left her cloak behind. For now, hot humiliation and distress coursed through her, immunizing her against the cold.

Solmir’s horse stood obediently by the snow-covered trail, snorting steam into the air. Well trained, that it required no hobbling or tying. A voice cut through her thoughts. “Yeva?” Solmir was closing the door behind him, having grabbed his cloak back from the hook on which Lena had placed it.

“What are you doing here?” Yeva turned abruptly enough to send up a spray of snow.

Solmir’s mouth opened in surprise, his brows furrowed. “I—why are you so angry?”

Yeva had not known her emotions were so obvious. She closed her eyes, sucking in a frigid breath of air that burned the insides of her nose. “I am sorry, you came at an awkward time. Please, sir—why have you come?”

“Solmir,” he corrected her. “I hate it when people call me sir. I came—” He paused, brows lowering further as he peered at her in the winter sunlight. “You really don’t know?”

The fury ebbed, leaving her with only confusion and dread creeping through her as quickly and surely as the cold. “No.” She shivered.

“Here.” Solmir stepped forward and draped his cloak over her shoulders before she could protest. Taking a step back, restoring a respectful distance between them, he leveled his scrutiny at her again. His eyes were friendly, warm—it was unsurprising that they were what Yeva remembered most about him from the dinners they spent together.

“I apologize. I thought you had understood.” Though he spoke softly, he spoke with confidence. “I know we haven’t spent much time together but of everyone at those dinners, you were the only one I wished to speak to. The other ladies spoke of weather and fashion, and of the baronessa’s silver. You explained the proper way to skin a leopard so as not to mar its fur.”