Returning to the bedchamber, I found a stack of clothing on the bed. I inspected the clothing and found a long, dark blue dress, similar in style to Eugrid’s, and a red mantle, which I assumed I was to wear over the dress. The fabric felt soft and silky, though quite thick, and would do a nice job of keeping me warm. The mantle had been embroidered with gold stitching, and as I scrutinized it closer, I found stags, leaves, berries, and round trumpets woven throughout the heavy cloth. I also found a pair of soft leather boots sitting beside the bed.
After dressing, I inspected my new ensemble in the room’s floor-length mirror. I looked Wultish, for sure. If not for my ears and my short hair cut in a bob, I might have been mistaken as one.
A light rapping sounded at the door, and I crossed the room and opened it. Freydil stood there, smiling up at me.
“Are you ready?” she whispered.
“Ready for what?” I asked.
“To go to the cottage,” she answered.
“Won’t you be punished for taking me there?” I asked.
“No. I only get whipped when Mum catches me,” Freydil answered, “so we must use the back entrance and take the long path to the cottage.”
“I would rather not go,” I said, “if your mother would get angry—”
“She is too tired of late to get angry. Besides, she cannot scream at me the way she used to because she runs out of breath too quickly. Come,” Freydil said as she grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room.
She led me down the hall to a stairwell. We walked quietly down the stairs to a door that led outside. As soon as she opened it, a strong gust of wind struck us. It was late afternoon, and fiery yellow-and-orange leaves tumbled past as the wind whisked them away.
“This way. The cottage is down this path at the bottom of the hill,” Freydil said as she tugged on my hand.
“Freydil,” I said, stopping her. “I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t disobey your mother. I thank you for showing me the way, but I can go alone from here.”
She frowned but then seemed to think for a moment. “Perhaps I can go explore the dungeons instead?”
“Sure. The dungeons sound lovely.”
“There’s a skeleton down there, though I’ve never seen it. Very well,” she said with a sigh, “I shall be in the dungeons if you need me.” Freydil turned away and raced down the hall.
I stepped outside, and the fresh air seemed to heal me better than anything thus far. The warm sunlight on my cheeks, the feel of the dirt beneath my boots, the birds chirping, all seemed to make my fear disappear.
It was a glorious day, with not a single cloud in the sky, as if, when I looked up, I could see all the way to Heaven. The blueness of the sky was striking, crystal clear and perfect, almost depthless. I felt small under the sky, yet somehow large at the same time.
Before I knew it, I’d made it to the bottom of the hill. I followed the path around a bend as sounds of chopping wood echoed from up ahead.
I came to a clearing but didn’t enter. Instead, I stopped behind a wide oak tree, inspecting the cottage from where I stood. It was larger than I had expected—two stories, with stained-glass windows and a thatched roof. Alongside the cottage was a large stack of wood, and Kull stood next to it, ax in hand, splitting logs into smaller pieces.
He seemed completely oblivious to the world around him. It was him and the wood and nothing else. Chop, split, chop, split. Absorbed in his work, he needn’t worry about anything else—wars, politics, missing fairy stones, lost loved ones, old flames.
He’d taken his shirt off to reveal a deep scar that ran down his chest. Months ago, I would have swooned at the sight of his bare torso, but now, I was past that.
Yet, why couldn’t I make myself enter the clearing? And why had my heart started fluttering uncontrollably?
He was still seductively handsome, and the little bit of weight he’d lost only served to make his muscled frame look more chiseled. The sun reflected off his tanned skin. He’d pulled his blond hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck.
I realized I wasn’t breathing, so I let out a long exhale. Here went nothing.
“Good luck with that whole don’t-have-feelings-for-him-anymore thing,” I muttered under my breath before stepping into the clearing.
Kull’s eyes met mine as I entered the clearing, and whatever beauty I’d seen in the sky had nothing on him. My mouth literally gaped open, and I had to make a conscious effort to clamp my jaw shut and force myself to keep walking. Kull peered at me as I neared, his eyes so blue they could’ve been chipped from a glacier. He stood straight as I approached, then propped the ax against the woodpile.
“Hello, Olive,” he said quietly.
Heart pounding. Mouth not working. Stomach twisting in knots.
“Hello, Kull,” I finally managed.
He cocked his head. “Is everything all right? Are you recovered? Eugrid told me your injuries were quite extensive.”
My injuries. Yes! That was why I was having such trouble collecting my thoughts. Silly me, thinking I still had a thing for him.
“I’m fine now, thanks to your sister. May I speak with you?”
He stepped closer to me, close enough that I caught the scent of sandalwood and the soap still lingering in his damp hair—smells that only served to replay old memories of being close to him, kissing him, and the feel of his chest beneath my hands.
When our gazes met, it was almost as if he saw exactly what I was thinking, and in my mind, my lips had found his. His kiss was soft and deep and sparked with passion.
He cleared his throat, and I looked away quickly, my
