Nobody's Goddess (Never Veil #1)(25)

A black leather-gloved hand reached out into the silver arrow of light where I stood and grabbed my apron from the floor. I caught a glimpse of a lock of dark hair as he bent to retrieve it, but he retreated quickly into the shadows before I could make out more. Another gloved hand emerged beside the one clutching my apron and motioned for me to draw nearer.

“Come here,” he said. “Do not be afraid.”

My mind froze. A man in the castle. A man not all in white. Who could it be, but the lord? But if it were him, I’d be dead if the rumors were true. And yet here I was, and he didn’t chastise me for my trespass.

“I, uh—” I started. Did the laws of the first goddess apply to the one who watched over the village for her? I looked away. “Do you need me to close my eyes?”

“Oh,” he exclaimed. He pulled his hands back into the darkness with a start.

“Yes,” he said. And, as an afterthought, “Thank you.” I thought I heard him swallow uncomfortably in the silence that followed.

Good. Maybe he’ll think favorably of me. Maybe he won’t— I shut my eyes tightly. My quest seemed suddenly immensely stupid. The penalty is death.

Unlike with Jurij after the swim in the cave, there was no hesitation on this man’s part. The moment my eyelids clamped shut, his boots echoed as he drew closer. I felt his presence overhead as he wrapped the apron back around my shoulders.

“Hmm,” he said, perhaps lost in thought. “An apron for a cloak.”

His breath glanced across the top of my head as he spoke. It ought to have been warm, but it was cool and refreshing somehow, even though I shivered from head to foot. I heard rustling and then felt a gust of cold air. I jumped a little as a heavy leather jacket came down atop the apron over my shoulders. Although the material was cold to the touch, warmth instantly flooded my body. “Do you feel warmer?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The man began tying what I assumed was a cord of some kind around my right shoulder. I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next, as I had often seen Jurij do when he was around Elfriede and her attention was drawn elsewhere. I could feel the jacket slip a little as he let go, but it held in place, leaving only the area near my neck uncovered. “I need to speak with the lord of the village. It’s … it’s urgent.”

The man scoffed. “I can tell. You seem to have rolled out of a muddy pond and caught your dress on a hundred branches. Perhaps you also bumped into a fair maiden, making off with her apron.”

I forced myself to smile. “Not far off. But the mud is just the color of the dress.”

“Of course. It suits you.”

“Thanks.” It might not have been a compliment, but I couldn’t possibly care less what his opinions were of my appearance at that moment, not when he held my life in his hands. My fingers poked around inside the too long arms of the jacket and gripped the soft seams nervously. “I have a request. Of the first goddess.”

“Does not everyone? If only she could hear the voices calling her.” He paused, his voice wavering. “Some more desperate than others.” I jumped as leather brushed against my hand. He pulled on my sleeves and rolled them up so that my hands were free. He grabbed my palm and turned it over to separate my splintered finger from the rest. In my nervousness, I’d forgotten the slight pain that ebbed now from the tip of my finger.

“Can’t you speak with her then?”

“You are injured,” he said as if I hadn’t spoken. My heart sank. What was I doing? I had a sinking feeling I was chasing a mythological woman, no more real than my queen and monsters.

The tips of a glove ran smoothly across my finger and reminded me of the delicate softness of bird down. When I’d played with my friends by the livestock, we’d often tickled one another with the down left behind by farmers’ chickens, but this elicited so much more aching and none of the giggles. And there was something more, a warmth mixed in with the chill of the leather. Leather. Leather, like in the cavern pool.

I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened and my palm was locked firmly in his grasp.

“It’s fine, thank you,” I said, a little more sternly than I’d intended.

He let my hand free. I stumbled, a bit off balance, and he steadied me at the shoulders.

“Let me get a needle,” he said, “and I can remove the splinter for you.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself.”

“It is no trouble at all, I assure you.”

“I’m sure I can get it myself later, thank you.” I cradled the finger protectively against my shoulder, lest he try to wrest it from me again.

“But you would not forbid me from treating it?” His voice seemed odd. Tentative.

“Uh, no,” I mumbled. I didn’t know whether or not giving in would end the embarrassment sooner.

“Wait here a moment.”

The echoes of his footsteps reached my ears, and he was gone. I stood, wondering if it would be more foolish to stay or to go. You came here for a reason. But you’re risking your life! What is life without Jurij? The dilemma was meaningless, as I hadn’t made even a blind step forward when I heard his echoing footsteps again. A bottle clanged against the floor in front of me.

“I brought some ale to numb the area and bandages with which to wrap it.”