"We could always share the quilt—" Avalyn suggested after a few moments of contemplation.
Jaythen held back a biting laugh, "I could share the quilt, the trick is getting you to."
"What do mean by that?"
"You mean to tell me that you don't know that you're a cover hog?"
"I am not!"
He finally did laugh scornfully, which only made her angry that he was belittling her for no reason in the middle of a strange village.
She threw up her hands at his mocking laughter and walked away. She wouldn't tolerate him if he was going to act like an idiot. She saw on the outside that he tried to adapt to rough or crude environments but she knew he would never be more than a spoilt, self-entitled, aristocrat.
"Where are you going!?" he asked indignantly.
"To find your frail body shelter, because you apparently cannot survive in the wilderness," she replied with a harsh insult, stinging him back for laughing at her.
He frowned but did not stop her—knowing that he had been unreasonably unkind. He groaned and dragged his hand over his face with building frustrations. He sighed; he could never win against the girl with green eyes. He inwardly chided himself for even mildly upsetting her.
He stared around at the building structures—very modest, though not a single one indicated that there was wealth to be had in such a place. These people were peasants at the most with farms or trades. There was a small church, a main square, a line of shops—some doubling as homes. Overall a very different feel than any other place he had been to yet in his life.
"Jaythen," Avalyn came back around and a man about a year older than Jaythen was following her, holding a basket. He regarded them, eyeing the man suspiciously, for if he had the intentions to be taken with the girl, he would be sourly disappointed.
"This kind sir might be able to help us," she gestured toward the man who nodded at him. He seemed much friendlier than the old man of Saint Toby's they first saw.
"My parents' cottage has an extra room, since their youngest has left to travel and trade—they would probably put you up for the night. Mother is so very kind."
"Thank you," Jaythen said and followed them.
"My name is Matthias Barlow; I'm the second oldest son to Brannen Barlow."
He said that like it should mean something but Jaythen could only helplessly nod with false impressiveness.
With Matthias's talk of siblings, it reminded Jaythen of his two older sisters that he had never known; one was a stillbirth, and the other only lived for three weeks. He didn't think about it that often but he thought it was one of the reasons his mother was so attached to him—he was her only child that lived to adulthood. Again, thoughts of his mother made his stomach tighten in anxiety—the thought of her upon hearing a dragon had eaten him—or whatever lies of death upon Jaythen, Halden had told to her. He inwardly glowered; he would make his cousin pay for his treachery.
They arrived at a farm just on the edge of the village. The second oldest son rapped on the door and waited. Jaythen took the moment to discreetly hide his sword behind a wheelbarrow, just in case it would worry their potential hosts.
A woman probably the age of Avalyn's own mother answered it and looked at the trio curiously.
"Matthias?" Her tone was pleasant but inquisitive.
"I brought you and Da part of the fish I caught at the lake, also these two need a place to stay for the night—they're lost travelers on route to Griswold."
Her face suddenly broke into sympathy, "Oh, of course you are welcome to stay—I'll go up and ready the room."
Matthias stepped inside and set the basket of fish onto the center table. His father was smoking a pipe and watching them, though took a moment to slap his son on the back in fond greeting, "How's your wife?"
"She's expecting me home, I hope that fish will suit you," Matthias chuckled and bid them all farewell.
Finally the older man's attention landed on the young lord and the girl next to him.
"So you're lost eh?"
"We took the wrong path," Jaythen admitted.
"Where are you from?"
"Wendbury."
The man whistled, "You really did get yourselves lost, you would have certainly come across Griswold before this little village from the Wendbury direction—yet you managed to miss it entirely!"
Jaythen grew embarrassed and could only nod. Avalyn didn't seem to care of their words—she was looking about the room appraisingly.
The lady of the house returned to them then, "You may take the first room on the left—it is where our youngest son lived until very recently. If you younglings are hungry, there's a bit of stew left from supper."
She gestured to a pot on the wood-stove which held the stew.
"How many children do you have?" Jaythen wondered, setting himself at the table.
"We have four children—three lads and a lass," she smiled and served him a bowl of stew to which he tried not consume like he was half-starved. Avalyn joined him and seemed to eat as heartily as he. She hadn't gone hunting in at least two days. The lady began to take out the fish to move them to a cooler place in the cellar where they could keep at their freshest.
"Thank you very much for your kindness, Madam," Jaythen began to stretch his arms, signaling he was heading off to the bed. His stew had been devoured in three bites.
"You may call me Aldercy, my husband is Brennan, and you are most welcome" the woman smiled.
"Thank you, Aldercy—and you too Mr. Barlow," he nodded respectfully at the man who had resumed setting in his chair and smoking his pipe. Though he hadn't lifted a finger to help them as his wife did—his permission for their admittance was to be grateful for enough.
"I am Jaythen and this is Avalyn," he finally introduced them.
"I'll be up in a bit," Avalyn mumbled when he looked to her to see if she would follow. She instead, offered to help Aldercy with moving the fish. He heard the woman start to chatter about how many fish recipes she knew and couldn't help but to smile.
He entered the first room on the left that was on the second floor. It was a small room but at least it had a bed, narrow as it was. It could fit two people rather closely. He took off his vest to get ready to sleep. He smirked as he realized that the luck potion had taken hold on him—for the unfriendly old man insinuated it would be hard luck to find a friendly family to put them up for the night yet they were already welcome guests in the Barlows' household.
He peeked out the single window to the dark pasture behind the cottage. He could see a figure standing by the trees on the far side—a young man with long hair that was staring at the house. Jaythen wondered if he were just a village boy out late and looking to get into mischief, but then the youth turned his head upward and stared directly at the young lord. He became unnerved and averted his eyes, but when he looked back to see if the young man was still there, there was no one—which made Jaythen wonder if he was just so tired that he had imagined it. As soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.
It was the middle of the night when Jaythen awoke again. Something caused him to return to consciousness—probably the wind which had picked up and was causing a nearby tree branch to scratch at the side of the cottage most eerily. His eyes darted to the spot next to him and saw it was empty. He shot up; just because he felt responsible for the girl—and hated to think she was in danger. She wasn't though, for as soon as he sat up he could see she was wrapped in Marv's quilt, sleeping on the floor.
He was puzzled at first but then remembered she had declared that she would sleep on the floor evermore because Jaythen had broken their bed boundary that last night in the Imperial City. He felt bad at seeing her crunched up on the floor and then sighed, knowing what he had to do. He slipped out of the bed and easily picked her up in his arms, then placing her under the covers on the bed. He grabbed the quilt from her, also one of the pillows and took the place on the floor that she had been. He had waited for so long to sleep in a proper bed again, but yet—she was the one who deserved it much more than him. He had betrayed her, he had hurt her—the bed was little retribution, but still it was better than having her sleep on an uncomfortable, cold floor because of him.
"Excuse me, my lord?" Jaythen heard it while he was sleeping—a bit unclear if it were from a lingering dream or happening outside of them. He tenderly opened one eye and noted a nagging pain in his lower back. He saw Avalyn's head peering over the bed's edge down at him. Her green stare was piercing, and she was obviously watching him sleep which was an unnerving thought. Her golden hair was thrown over one shoulder and cascaded downward in waves until the ends brushed the floor right next to him.
"What?"
"How did we switch places?" she raised her brow and gestured to the floor with a swish of her fingers.
"Did you just address me using my title?"
"No."
"Then it was magic."
Her cool look told him that she wasn't convinced by his counterfeit answer.
He yawned before saying, "I moved you all right? You looked uncomfortable and cold and I knew you wouldn't want to share the bed with me so I slept on the floor instead."
He couldn't tell what her next expression was—it was mild surprise, or something equally portrayed as perplexity.
He finally noticed the sound of pattering rain on the window and groaned aloud. He was sick of the rain. He roused himself and got dressed. Avalyn had slept in her dress since she again found herself without undergarments.
"Do you think that Aldercy thinks that we're married?" she asked, her face was now cupped in the palm of her hand as she examined her fingers. She was laying across the bed on her stomach with her knees bent upward and her feet crossed. He would almost say she looked as though she were daydreaming.
"Of course. It would be hard not to notice that expensive ring on your finger and assume otherwise," Jaythen answered as he buckled the straps on his vest. She looked at her hand and splayed her fingers out, staring at it.
"How much was it?"
"Twenty-two hundred gold coin,"
She whipped her head around and gaped, "You've got to be joking."
He shrugged and she slipped off the ring to take a closer look, studying the emerald and the carved white gold that made up the band, "Why ever would you spend so much money on something so trivial?"
"Because I had the money to do it. Besides, it was for a good cause—you were my pretend fiancée, you should have an engagement ring that fit the act."
She made an exasperated sound, whether it was meant for him or for the ring or something else entirely, he couldn't say for sure. He looked upon her, looking upon the ring and tried to gauge what she was thinking by her expression.
"We might as well be married with how much we fight," Avalyn sighed after a moment.
"Are you saying that you'd actually consider such a union?" He wasn't serious, but there was still a curiosity of what she thought of him.
She initially ignored his question and pulled herself up as she placed the ring back onto her finger, "I want to find Alys, I want to know why I am the way I am—marrying you is the last thing in the world that I want."
The tone she said those words with caused Jaythen's heart to sink but not because he wanted her to want to marry him. He just thought that he would mean more to her than a tone of indifference. She certainly meant something to him though he wasn't sure if it was from the will to protect or because she knew so much about him, more so than anyone else. He considered her a very capable friend.
She must have seen his disheartened look and she coughed, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of Nicolette."
Nicolette? Jaythen hadn't honestly thought of Nicolette for a few days, he changed his expression to bewilderment.
"The girl you're in love with, remember? I'm sorry that you cannot marry her."
He doubted she was sorry, for her tone held no sympathy. He reasoned she couldn't sympathize because she knew not what love was or how it felt.
"I doubt we're going anywhere today, might as well keep friendly with our kind hosts," Jaythen nodded toward the rain outside the window and turned to leave Avalyn standing in the room.
He descended the staircase and was greeted with fresh smells of hotcakes and eggs. Aldercy was going about the kitchen in a cheerful manner for such a gloomy morning.
"Good morning," Jaythen coughed to announce his entrance.
"Good morning," she replied, adding a spice of sorts to the eggs that were cooking on a pan over the stovetop, "How did you sleep?"
"Very well, thank you" Jaythen lied. He didn't want to arouse any suspicion that he had to sleep on the floor because the girl he traveled with refused to sleep with him.
"Where is your lady?"
"She'll be down soon I'm sure."
Aldercy served him breakfast which he savored unlike the stew the night before that he had positively gulped down.
"The eggs are—interesting," he noted after chewing on them.
"I put Isle spices on them, gives them a punch of flavor don't you think?"
"Yes," he agreed and sucked in a breath of air at the sheer burning of spice on his tongue. "How did you manage to obtain Isle spice?"
"My youngest son sent it to me from the Evening Isles. Instead of taking up the farm duties like his older brothers and father, Josef decided traveling and trading was what he wanted to do—although it is not a sound source of income. I'm afraid Brennan is still quite angry with him for his decision to leave."
"It was nice of him to think of you and send you such a gift," Jaythen noted, "Where is Mr. Barlow anyhow?"
"He and a few of our farm hands are finishing up the milking of cows in the barn."
Avalyn joined them then, she quietly sat next to Jaythen and Aldercy served her a dish of hotcakes.
"Thank you," Avalyn said politely and ate it promptly. Seeing her eat like so, reminded him that she hadn't been hunting and was probably fighting herself not to transform and take out one of the Barlows' cows.
"So what brings you two to this area of the realm?" Aldercy asked curiously taking a seat across from Jaythen with her own plate of breakfast.
"We are searching for someone," Jaythen replied honestly.
"Oh?" the lady's tone pried for more information.
"My mother," Avalyn gave more, but it wasn't much to satisfy the curiosity.
They could tell Aldercy was very curious at their answer—it wasn't often a young couple wandered into Saint Toby's searching for someone.
"We thought she might have been in Griswold," he added.
"How very peculiar," Aldercy mused.
Avalyn and Jaythen exchanged a look, not very sure about what the lady meant by her comment.
The rest of the day, Jaythen sat around and listened to Avalyn and Aldercy talk of womanly things. He was growing quite bored and fidgety at being cooped up inside—but it was his own fault for not wanting to set foot in the rain.
There was a rough knock on the front door and since Aldercy was occupied with Avalyn, he went to answer it.
Some of the rain splashed onto him from the outside and he saw the unfavorable old man from the day before standing before him. He was wearing a rough-spun cloak that did little of its indented purpose. The man recognized him and an impressed look crossed his face before returning to a permanent frown.
"Barlow I brought your wheel!"
"Brennan is out in the barn at the moment," Aldercy looked up from talking and informed the man in a cold tone.
The man made a low grumbling noise and then spotted Avalyn, his eye lingered on her, squinting as though he recognized her in some way—but Jaythen knew that would be purely impossible. He finally turned around and hauled the wheel toward the barn through the rain.
"We met that man yesterday, he was very unpleasant," Jaythen closed the door and mentioned.
"Old Gower has always been that way—he has had many misfortunes befall him."
"His eye?" Jaythen asked, because the man only had one.
She nodded, "He lost it after trying to put out a fire on the old tin-maker's shop. A piece of ember burnt it and infected it but the misfortune is more than that—his wife left him many years ago and his daughter hates him. He is a miserable old man." Jaythen found it surprising such a friendly lady could hold such distaste in her tone for another.
"I take it you don't feel sorry for him?"
"He's just so very unpleasant, even before the tragedy."
Jaythen had to wonder if she meant Gower's personal tragedy or a bigger, more encompassing tragedy. He couldn't be for certain but did not pry her for details.
Avalyn had been quietly listening but suddenly stood, "Excuse me, I must go out."
"It's raining though, dear!" Aldercy reminded her.
"Its fine, it will be refreshing," Avalyn smiled and it must have reassured the woman because she made no more protests.
Avalyn left out the front door, and Jaythen knew she needed to transform before her anger lashed out. He let her go as well and turned to Aldercy, "She has a few quirks now and then—but it doesn't harm anything."
Aldercy nodded, still staring curiously after the girl.
While Avalyn was away, Aldercy talked of many things while she sewed one of Mr. Barlow's shirts. She liked to talk of her children and Jaythen learned that the three eldest lived in the same village. They were all married except for her youngest son—the traveler. She had been married when she was fifteen, which must have been common in such places. Jaythen was fifteen when he first kissed a girl—one of the castle maids. She was older than him but it was a memorable experience for the young lord.
He told Aldercy about Wendbury, but omitted the fact that he was the de facto Count of it. He did mention his mother was fussy, to which she replied it was only natural. He informed her that his father had recently died and her heart went out to him.
Mr. Barlow returned to the house in time for the noon meal. Aldercy had prepared the fish that Matthias had brought to them the night before. Some farm hands—boys of the village that were also cousins to the family—also joined them along with the Barlows' eldest son, Seth. Seth was four years older than Jaythen and already had three of his own children—making Aldercy to seem the youngest grandmother in existence. There was a whole clan of Barlows in the Saint Toby's area because it was told that Mr. Barlow was the second youngest son of six! Jaythen had come to accept that rural areas had nothing better to than produce offspring.
Avalyn returned a little while after that, damp form the rain but feeling refreshed and pleasant. No one asked her what she had been doing; perhaps they did not care or were too polite to pry. She did not touch her meal which made Jaythen aware that she had killed and eaten. They all sat around the table chatting and laughing as though they were old family friends, despite their differences in class, wealth, and in Avalyn's case—species. Avalyn even seemed to look toward Aldercy as a mother figure though she had known her less than a day. Aldercy was just that sort of a woman—motherly and instantly comforting.
He did notice the farm lads took to staring at the girl with green eyes in a most enamored way. They were younger, and it didn't bother or threaten him that they did so—after all, Avalyn was not his wife and she would have no interest in the likes of them anyway.
He began to then speculate on what Avalyn would like in a man. Did she prefer a hard-worker? Someone strong and caring? Did she like humor or could she love a man who was stern? Did Avalyn even stop to consider any men? Perhaps she was so focused on finding her mother that no other attractions could be had to distract her. He watched her like she was a living portrait, noting everything about the way she was structured. Her lips moved slow and usually did not smile, but he remembered that if and when she smiled—it was beautiful. When she considered a thought, her eyes squinted ever so slightly and when she was intent on listening they were clear and wide.
The rain eventually stopped but Jaythen did not notice as he kept studying the girl with green eyes. She hadn't even noticed him staring at her for the longest of time, and if she had, she showed no indication. She was paying attention to what the rest of the people were saying.
His concentration was harshly interrupted by a frantic farm hand that stumbled through the back door with a face paled to near white.
"What is it lad?" Mr. Barlow frowned and removed his pipe from his mouth that he had been smoking.
"The cattle! One of the cattle…" he was at a loss for words and merely pointed flustered, in the direction of the far pasture. Mr. Barlow was immediately up on his boots and out the door to investigate. The feeling in the room was too anxious to sit and wait to hear what the farm hand was refereeing to. All in the house followed Mr. Barlow and the farm hand through the mud until they reached the body of a mutilated cow in the back pasture. Its body was cracked in half—in a similar way to the elk carcass Jaythen had seen from one of Avalyn's kills.