Nobody's Goddess (Never Veil #1)(26)

I laughed before I could stop myself. “It’s just a splinter.”

He made a sound that I thought to be laughter as well, although it echoed throughout the chamber in a tone both sweet and melancholy. “Yes, well, I will do all I can to help you.” The leather feathers cradled my injured hand that still rested atop my shoulder. “May I?” he asked. His speech was warmer and more confident.

“All right.” It was my turn to speak tentatively.

He took my hand in his and pulled on it a little as he bent down to retrieve the bottle of ale. The cool liquid didn’t sting as it should have and reminded me of nothing more than water. A rustle of leather and the hand touching mine became as cold as ice, as smooth as marble. He’d removed one of his gloves and now the icy fingertips grew warm. Somehow, I felt both comforted and violated. The pain from the splinter vanished.

“What is your request?” he asked as he began poking my fingertip with the needle. My heart soared a little at the idea that he might be able to ask the goddess to help me after all, that she might actually be out there somewhere, watching. My finger throbbed, but I felt that it should have hurt more than it did, that he was taking great pains to minimize my soreness. The needle pricked just a little harder than previously. I squeaked a little in shock.

“Did I hurt you?” The man’s hand stiffened.

“Uh, no,” I responded. Better to finish this sooner rather than later. Heat rose on my cheeks. “No more than anyone could help.”

The man’s grip loosened slightly. “But I should do better than anyone else.”

My muscles weakened from being held aloft for so long, but I gritted my teeth and refused to let my limb waver. Speak your mind, Noll. Tell him why you’ve come. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, I couldn’t make myself voice the foolish thoughts inside of me. The man went back to work, prodding the needle into my skin even more gently than before. At rare moments, the needle or the splinter made my finger ache considerably more, but I bit the inside of my bottom lip and made no more sudden movements.

“You must need something very important,” said the man after a bit of silence. “You are aware of the penalty for a woman setting foot in the castle?” The man gave one final thrust with the needle. “I have it!”

This is it. I flinched. The splinter gone, I hoped I’d be free to pull my hand back, but the man gripped harder. “Wait a moment,” he said. Then he added, “Please.”

What choice did I have? I wasn’t about to win a bout of strength against him. I relaxed my pull. “I … ” I straightened my shoulders, doing my best to act the queen. “I was willing to risk death.”

“Were you?” The trickle of the stingless ale fell over my fingertip again, and what followed was a gentle patting with what felt like cloth. Then the iciness of his fingers burned warmly again, and I felt no trace of pain. “That seems foolish. To risk such a treasure.”

My face flushed, and I was almost glad that my eyes were closed so I could imagine he didn’t notice. I felt exposed and vulnerable.

“I came to free my friend from the curse that binds him to a woman.”

He laughed. The sound made me go cold. “Who has the power to do that?”

I bit my lip, but I couldn’t give up now. “Who else would, but the first goddess?”

“And why would she ever break her own law?”

My lip trembled. My voice, when I could finally speak, was nothing but a hoarse whisper. “Is there nothing to be done?”

“Nothing.” His voice was sharp, and I couldn’t tell if it was my question or the answer to that question that had offended him. He sighed and let the sternness pass. “How strange of you to have a friend bound to a woman.”

“He … ” The admission caught in my throat. “She commanded him to remain my friend. Accidentally.”

“In women there lies a careless sort of power.” He patted my hand gently. “Why do you fear for him? Does she intend to send him to the commune?”

“No, it’s not that. In fact, he’s—” I stopped. I felt coddled and spoken down to, and my fear of punishment was overriding my desire for the impossible. “Never mind. I was foolish to think—” I wanted my hand free, with every bit of my desire. I felt strange, locked in this man’s grasp, blind to what was going on before me. His fingers loosened, and I was finally able to pull my hand back.

His voice grew quiet. “You love this … friend?” He took such a sharp intake of breath I thought something must have hurt him. My blood went cold.

“Yes.” I had said the words in haste and anger to Jurij in the cavern and spoken them in my heart a multitude of times before. But never had I admitted it to anyone else, and none but my mother knew to ask. And she at least had the pity not to.

My hand was enclosed in the gentle leather grip once more, and I let him take it, my muscles growing limp. Marble, as chilled as snow and as smooth and plush as satin, pushed gently against the back of my hand. I heard a light smacking noise upon its release, not unlike the noises Mother and Father made every time they met. A kiss?

“So you know,” whispered the hollow voice. “Perhaps you understand now. Men have no choice but to love, for that is their curse. Women are free to love, for what good it does. You need not fear death here.” He pulled me close to him, his body pressed against mine. I felt strange, revolted, but at the same time, an unbidden sense of exhilaration spread from my head to my toes. His hand stroked the back of my head, and I felt patches of his cold, thin arms sweep across my cheek. My other cheek brushed against the silken fabric covering his shoulder.