Which he ignores. “How bad’s the pain now?”
“A one, but it’s mostly in my arm.”
“I’m going to make that at least a two. I’m doubling all your numbers.”
“Why bother asking me then?” I demand.
He grabs my wrist with gentle fingers. “Because I’m going to keep worrying until you’ve stopped treating it like it’s broken.”
“It’s been broken for weeks,” I counter.
He huffs at me. “It’s been days, Vexy, and everything is worse now.”
“Because of my shrinking bubble?”
He puts my arm back where I had it and leans in to kiss my forehead. “Because I need you to fight this, but can you do me a favor?”
“Probably not.”
“Leave that shirt on?”
I jump back out of his grip – crap, I’d forgotten about that. I grab the nearest dark shirt and pull it on over the top of the one I’m wearing. Covered.
When I turn around, Seth’s still chuckling, but he’s gone back to stirring and scrubbing clothes.
“You’d better pick that up before Killian loses his shit,” he says, pointing down at the blade that fell out of my pocket.
“Crap. I’d make the worst Saber in history. It just doesn't occur to me to make sure I’m armed.”
“Because you already have two of them?” he teases.
“Haha, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”
I pick up the blade and stick it back in my pocket before picking up his ruined pants up between my thumb and forefinger, one leg still smoldering.
“What do you want to do with these?” I ask.
“I’m keeping them. Wouldn’t dare get rid of my souvenir.”
“Souvenir? What are you going to do with them?” I demand, throwing them over to him.
He shoves them in the vat and starts washing, tossing a clean shirt at me, followed by a dozen pairs of braies in quick succession. Water sprays everywhere, and I’m very glad for two things. That I chose a dark shirt, and that the sun has peeked out from behind the dreary sky.
I pile the laundry onto the railing, unable to move far enough away from him to hang them properly.
“I’m going to wear them,” he says, shrugging. “And remember the day you tried to burn my balls off. Just the thought makes me feel all warm and loved.”
I turn, ready to tell him that I didn’t mean to set his pants on fire – although he definitely deserved it – and the flames went nowhere near his balls, when a wet pair of braies smack into my face. I peel them off, water dribbling down over my chin.
“Sorry,” he laughs.
Too late, I’m already running at him. I spin the undershorts to tighten the fabric and flick it out to snap on his ass.
Jumping back, he squeals like a kid. “Vexy!”
He dives his arm into the vat and pulls out another pair of braies. Oh, crap!
I run.
Well, try to run. Trying to avoid anyone when you’re trapped in a bubble is hard work, made worse as he corners me against the back of the cottage. This side of the building is up on stilts with a small gap underneath – my only option. I shimmy under, slip on a rock, and land with a hard thunk on my ass.
A hard, wooden, echoing thunk.
Not the kind of sound I was expecting. It’s odd enough to stop Seth’s attack and spike his curiosity. “What was that?”
I toss my now dirty pair of braies out at him and feel around under the dirt and leaf litter. Definitely something hard. My fingers loop through a cold metal handle, and after a good tug, the thing lifts – just a tad.
Definitely a door.
Seth crawls under the cottage, nudging me over with his elbow.
I roll to the side, saying, “All right, I’m moving.”
He smiles. “Good, I’m not exactly a little guy.”
He’s right, but I’m not about to start a fresh argument with him. I lie on my back, looking up at the boards and beams that make up the underside of Eydis’ house. The space grows narrow on the right and is boarded-up on the front and left, making it almost cozy under here. Just Seth and me.
Me, lying around, and him scraping back more dirt before opening the trap door. Easily, might I add. Way, way too easily.
The hole is too dark to see much in, but Seth leans over and feels around. His fingers scrape audibly across dry earth walls, but I don’t think he can reach the bottom. Then I hear the tell-tale ting of glass bottles bumping into each other.
“Silvari wine,” he says, grinning broadly as he pulls one out.
“One of your missions in life?”
“You know me so well.”
“Is that all that’s down there?” I ask, taking it from him.
“It’s not a very big space, but I’d need a light to see properly.”
He shimmies backward out from under the building, and I follow him.
My wet pants are now covered in dried, crushed leaves and dirt. As soon as we’re finished here, I’m showering.
“Roarke!” Seth bellows. Followed by a sharp whistle.
I cover my ears as the sound echoes around the domain.
“Calm your whistle,” I mutter.
He chuckles, snatching up the two pairs of discarded braies and dumping them back into the vat. Then he frowns down at them, and pulls the plug from the side. The water gushes out into a small trench and down towards what could have once been a vegetable patch, but is now so close to nothing that I hadn’t even noticed it was there.
I decide my job is done and perch on a low, flat, ass-shaped rock. The bubble makes a perfect backrest to get comfortable against before uncorking the wine bottle and taking three greedy mouthfuls then stopping to savor the sweet taste.
“It’s not even lunchtime,” Seth says.
I shrug. “You put it in my hands. What was I supposed to do with it?”
“I would drink it, but I have work to do,” he says dramatically. “You, however, shouldn’t drink it because you can’t handle it.”
In response, I take another large mouthful. The glass, cool from
