Author's note:

My darlings, I don't know for how long you've been with me, but if you followed me for a while, you might remember the story titled Blind Carnival. It was my most popular one, first on FF, then on JukePop and Inkitt. I eventually took it off all media, had it proofread and edited, and it was supposed to be published as a book on Kindle and Amazon.

And then I woke up yesterday and decided that these days, in these uncertain and daunting times we all could use some entertainment and some fun.

So, I present to you Blind Carnival as a free webserial you can read on my Wattpad page (the name's Katya Kolmakov). It's cheery, and light, and sexy, and it's modern Thorin and my OC, everyone simply loved John the Architect. The first chapter is posted, and I'll be updating it regularly.

I hope it brings you a bit of joy!

Stay safe, my darlings. Wash your hands.

Love,

K. xx

P.S. If you feel like, have a peek into my blog: kolmakov dot ca, or my writing FB page Katya Kolmakov - Author.


"So why did you leave the Stand?" he asked.

"Prince Fili invited me to take a small walk," she answered, confusion laced into her voice.

Her eyes roamed his face, as if she was trying to decode his words. There was nothing to decode!

"Did you enjoy the walk?" he asked.

He just couldn't understand why she wasn't answering right away, why her face was dark, and why she was so tense. She'd been behaving oddly all morning - frowning, refusing the food he'd specifically ordered for her. It was as if she didn't want to be there!

He gave the whole aggravation a thought and arrived at the decision that she was hiding something. His mood was dark now as well.

"Prince Fili offered to train with me," she said flatly and looked down under her feet.

"So, now you will train with both my nephews," he grumbled. "Didn't you arrange shooting practise with Kili as well, earlier this morning?"

"Arrange?" she repeated slowly. "No, I haven't arranged it."

She looked aside, her face distant. Clearly, she wasn't interested in having a conversation with him. His irritation rose, and he caught himself clenching his jaw.

"If you were in such a need of a sparring partner, you could've asked Dwalin," he said. "He's in charge of the Erebor Training Grounds. He'd have found someone."

She finally focused her gaze on him. A crinkle between her brows grew deeper. Thorin waited but she said nothing.

"Shall we go back to the Stand?" he grumbled and looped his arm.

She continued watching his face - and now he felt almost livid.

"I think I'll walk alone," she said in the same bleak tone of hers. "Wouldn't it be suspicious if we came back together?"

"Why would it?" he gritted through his teeth.

He was still holding his arm bent mid air! That was suspicious!

She tilted her head in a bird-like gesture and whispered, "You just don't understand it, do you?"

"Pardon?"

"It's just not something you can perceive, I see it now." She narrowed her eyes and studied him. "It must be the royal blood, and this confidence of yours, and–" She drew a deep breath so sharp that he couldn't help but notice how the lace jumped up in the cut of her dress.

She pushed her arm through his and started walking pulling at him firmly - but not towards the Grandstand. There was a small side passage in the West wall of the square, and she headed there. Her face expressed nothing. He followed.

She didn't go into the passage though. She stepped near a display of weapons that had been left unattended by the merchant. She looked down at the swords and then looked at him. He had to agree it would look from a distance as if they were discussing a blade's parrying capacity.

Except, she probably wouldn't be snarling through her gritted teeth if they were.

"It must be so pleasant to be so… set in your ways, so… blind and so infuriatingly sure of yourself," she hissed and suddenly her eyes flashed some mad green colour. "I can just imagine that there, in your thick Dwarven skull–"

He felt his jaw slack! What?! 'Thick Dwarven–' what?!

"And you just can't imagine that someone is thinking or feeling something different, and–" Her breathing caught, and she made a frustrated sound in her throat.

And then she blinked, and the grimace dropped. She slowly nodded to her thoughts, and her tongue brushed at her lips.

"Pardon me, that was unacceptable. I have forgotten myself," she said in her usual mellow voice. She pressed her fingers over her lips, and he saw another deep inhale raise her chest. She then looked into his eyes and gave him an odd melancholy smile. "I apologise for my outburst. There's no excuse."

He was still bewildered by the 'thick Dwarven skull' and continued glaring at her.

"I am– taxed, I've had a busy morning," she said softly. "Princess Dis and your nephews are quite an– overwhelming company."

"You didn't seem overwhelmed," Thorin pointed out.

"Then I'm better at pretending than I thought," she said and shook her head again. "I expected to spend the morning hiding somewhere in the back row, chatting with lord Balin since he is the only one who knows of our association. And it is so burdensome to keep our closeness secret." She gave out another sigh. "But with your word given to Mistress Algun hanging over us, what can we do? And after all, the fate of so many Dwarves depends on us performing admirably and sustaining the pretence, and–"

And that was when he understood that he was being softly reproached! Like to a child, in a kind and condescending way, she was listing all his faults, and not even directly! She was cajoling and speaking equivocally to him - and with a polite apologetic smile playing on her lips!

Thorin narrowed his eyes at her. She stopped speaking and watched his face. Her attempts in duping him had irked him - and yet he felt some sort of entertainment mixed into his irritation. His little bookkeeper was showing some mettle, given, she was trying to be cunning, but the fact that she wasn't retracting after telling him off agreed with him. He gave her an attentive look. He expected her to shrink away, she was a timid being after all - but she didn't. Her standing her ground at the moment - the calm, almost cold expression, and squared shoulders - he knew what he felt about this attitude. This attitude tickled his fancy.

"Am I expected to see my wrongdoings now and repent?" he asked.

"You haven't committed any wrongdoings," she said, giving him a side glance.

"You've just called me thick-skulled, blind, and infuriating," he drew out. "I'm having a suspicion I might have."

Her eyes widened, and he smirked. He should have been offended, and yet suddenly his mood improved - especially when a small snort escaped her despite her sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

"I apologise," she repeated in feigned contrition. "I regret every word."

"Do you though?" he murmured and leaned forward, as if to study a blade on the table.

He heard her draw a sharp breath when he as much as brushed at her shoulder. He caught the fresh smell of some flower oil emanating from her hair. He remembered the softness of her golden locks when they'd run through his fingers the night before.

"I do apologise for losing my composure," she said quietly.

"I do apologise for being thick-skulled," he whispered back, his eyes still on the weapons on the table.

"I wish we were back in your bedroom," she exhaled, and he looked at her askance.

Her cheeks were now powdered with charming blush, and quite a different flame burnt in the slanted eyes. He very much approved of it. He could see a vein beating frantically on her throat, and she swallowed. Last night he'd licked her throat, tasting the salt on the skin, from the exertion of the previous bout of their love, and she groaned, and her nails sank into his shoulder. She rasped out his name, like a prayer, and her body arched on his sheets, only shoulders on the bed, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, rising to meet him.

"Me too," he said.

Now that she mentioned it, the thought of going back under the covers titillated him. He even considered possible ways to escape the Grounds - but of course it just wouldn't do.

"We should go back to the Stand," he said and straightened out.

She nodded and looped her arm through his.

"And I don't want to train with your nephews," she suddenly whispered.

He turned and looked at her.

"They kept offering, and I– I tried to avoid answering, but I am embarrassed of my crippled hands." She wiggled the fingers of her right hand. "And I'm not agile enough for training with Prince Fili for sure. Will I have to train… as the Queen?" she added almost inaudibly.

"You won't have to do anything," he answered. "But you should find a teacher who would meet your needs, start with where you are."

"Will you train me?" she asked quickly and looked at him with large hopeful eyes.

He laughed.

"That's a very tempting proposition, but I meant an actual mentor." He then just couldn't help himself and leaned to her ear. "We'll do other sort of sparring when there's no one around."

Her lips half opened, in a small raspy gasp, and the blush spilled down her long neck now and rouged the tops of her breasts. Her cloak was untied on her throat, and he could see her smooth tender skin in the cut of her dress, in a cloud of the lace on her tunic. He remembered the tunic, from two night before. Their first night.

"My lord Thorin!"

"Uncle!"

Several voices called after him, and an instant later Fili, Kili, and Mistress Algun caught up with them. He felt his bookkeeper's hand tighten the grip on his forearm.

"We've invited Mistress Algun to join us in the Stand," Fili explained, and Thorin nodded approvingly.

Having the needlemaster nearby would only support the rumours, which is what they needed. He threw a glance to Eorwyn. She seemed preoccupied, and he wondered if she was jealous. He remembered her mentioning his previous association with the needlemaster. It was all in the past obviously, but he couldn't say he disapproved of possessiveness. He was a Dwarf after all.

Algun greeted him and then addressed the bookkeeper, "Master Eorwyn, could I steal you from the King for a few seconds?" She then gave Thorin a tense little smile. "There's a matter of fabrics we need to discuss."

Thorin gave her a nod, and Eorwyn let go of his arm.