“Oh.” I pulled the drawstrings closed on the sack of gold coins. My stomach pinched again at the thought of Fenris and some tavern wench.
“You’d better hold the money,” he said, taking a step backward.
Lacking a proper pocket, I tucked the sack of coins between my breasts as golden light enveloped Fenris. His great black wolf form stretched and expanded until it almost blocked the trees from my view. I smiled as I watched him transform, and my chest surged with a warm glow of pride.
My husband, I thought. The monster wolf of the Ironwood Forest.
THE MONSTER’S WIFE: CHAPTER SIX
It was only the second time I’d ridden Fenris in his wolf form, and this time I didn’t have the fear of King Nøkkyn to distract me from my nerves. Fenris seemed very large as he bent low to the ground to allow me to climb onto his back. My arms were full of the heavy red silk and velvet clothes he’d stolen for himself, and I clenched them tightly to my chest.
“Ready?” His enormous head twisted around to fix me with his pale eyes. “Let’s get you some proper food.”
My hands tightened around the rich, silk brocade of the vest.
“Don’t be scared.” His voice seemed surprisingly gentle for such a massive creature.
“I’ve never ridden anything before,” I said, stepping closer to his massive body. My family could hardly afford the luxury of horses, although sometimes little Egren had climbed our old dairy cow to pretend he was a knight on his trusty steed.
My heart knotted unexpectedly as I remembered Egren’s smile and the bouncing curls of his golden hair. Stars, I missed them!
I shook the thought away and focused on Fenris. Shifting the clothes under my left arm, I stepped gingerly onto his leg and grabbed a fistful of fur to pull myself onto his back. He sat very still as I gripped his sides with my thighs, trying to slow the frantic thudding of my heart. His ribcage swelled and subsided beneath me as he breathed. His fur felt sleek and warm against my legs.
“Ready?” he asked.
I mumbled a gentle yes. His massive body shifted alarmingly, pitching backward as he came to his feet. My fists clenched his fur so tightly my knuckles turned white, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming.
“Are you all right?” he asked, once he’d come to his full height.
I glanced down, too afraid to speak. Our little stream glittered below his haunches. It looked very, very far away. My head spun as my stomach plummeted toward the ground. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take a deep breath. Then another.
“Fine,” I said, in a voice so weak I almost couldn’t hear it myself.
His chest rumbled with what may have been a laugh. “My Sol. There is nothing in the Nine Realms that means more to me than you. I will never let you fall.”
Slowly, I opened my eyes. His massive head had turned to meet my gaze, and his brilliant, blue eyes glittered against the midnight black of his fur. I tried to smile, although my grip did not relax.
“I trust you,” I said.
He took a step forward, his entire body rocking, and I gasped. But he did not let me fall.
WE ARRIVED AT DUSK in what Fenris declared to be the outskirts of Evenfel. He stopped and lowered himself to the ground, allowing me to slide off his shoulders. My legs trembled beneath me, and I tried to hide it by smoothing my skirts. They were now even more wrinkled than they’d been in the glade outside our cave, and I supposed I must look quite ... funny.
The flicker of golden sparks against the evening sky distracted me, and I glanced up to see Fenris standing before me, naked and handsome, his smile as bright as the autumn sun. My breath caught in my throat. By the Nine Realms, how could I still be surprised by his beauty?
“My clothes?” he asked.
I’d almost forgotten about the mess of fabric clenched to my chest. “Of course,” I said, holding the wrinkled vest and dark pants out to him. He frowned as he shook them out, which made me smile.
“It’s been a while?” I asked.
“I hate clothes,” Fenris growled as he pulled on the pants. “It’s harder to fight in clothes, you know. They’re restrictive.”
“Nice to have in the winter, though,” I said as I yanked up the bodice of my dress. It had slipped down during my ride, and now the plunging neckline was dangerously close to obscene. I pulled the money bag from between my breasts, hoping the bodice would have a bit more give in its absence.
“There. What do you think?” Fenris asked.
I gave up on my dress and turned to Fenris. He was wearing black pants that were clearly too short for him and a vest so red it seemed to drain all the color from the surrounding forest.
“Oh,” I said, suddenly realizing I’d never seen Fenris clothed. Every time I’d met him, from the first day he surprised me along the banks of the Lucky, he’d been as naked as the day he was born, or clothed in the thick, black fur of his monstrous wolf form. Seeing him now, in an outfit so ridiculous, made him seem oddly ordinary, as though he’d been reduced.
“You look—” I began, searching for the words.
“Funny?” he finished, with a grin.
I smiled in answer. He did look funny, hopelessly funny, standing in the woods in that ridiculous brocade vest. I understood what he’d meant earlier. It wasn’t an insult to say I looked funny in these clothes; it was the naked truth. And, stars, given the choice between a beautiful lie and the painful truth, my husband would choose unadorned honesty every time.
I glanced down at my own muddy feet. “We don’t have shoes.”
Fenris looked down and frowned as though he’d just now noticed we were both barefoot, and had been barefoot every single day since he’d rescued me from King Nøkkyn. “Oh. You don’t think that matters, do you?”
He gave me a tepid smile. He looked so strange in his clothes, almost as though he were a different person, not at all the confident, gorgeous lover I’d taken so brashly on the banks of the Lucky river. Perhaps he was the one who needed protection now.
I remembered the last Harvest Festival, when Maddie Liefsen spent the entire dance talking about her new silk slippers, the ones her father had brought back with him on the barge. She’d insisted on riding a horse to the festival so she wouldn’t have to walk through the dust, and she’d made several pointedly rude comments about the peasants who went barefoot their entire lives. Peasants like me.
“Of course it doesn’t matter,” I said, taking Fenris’s arm in mine.
His smile returned. “Good. Now, let’s get my beautiful wife some proper food.”
We walked together through the woods for several paces before emerging onto a beaten dirt road. Neat little farm houses stood to either side, their split rail fences enclosing beautiful horses and a fair number of fuzzy, white sheep who bleated their displeasure into the fading light.
“This is Evenfel?” I asked with a giggle. “It doesn’t look that majestic.”
Fenris arched an eyebrow at me. “My lady. I could hardly take you into the heart of town as the monster wolf, now could I?”
I took another look at the whitewashed farmhouses with their bundles of corn and stacks of pumpkins. Candles flickered in the windows. In the distance, I saw someone hauling buckets to a barn.
“So, this isn’t Evenfel?” I asked.
“It’s just the outskirts. We’ll be able to see the town center once we crest that hill.”
I hugged Fenris’s arm a bit more tightly as we climbed the gentle rise, unwilling to admit I was nervous. I’d never been in a town bigger than the one by my parents’ cabin, and I’d only visited there a handful of times a year.
Fenris called me brave. How little he knew.
“Now, this is Evenfel,” Fenris said, gesturing grandly at the tableau below us.
I gasped, unable to summon a single word. The city spreading below us seemed enormous; rows and rows of neat, red-roofed houses huddled together along the banks of the wide, slow Körmt River, surrounded by a thick wall of white stones. Lights spa
rkled from hundreds of windows, making the entire city gleam like a jewel in a dark setting. Voices drifted through the gloaming, the gentle ebb and flow of conversation interrupted by the occasional screech of children. The city had a scent, too, I realized. It wasn’t unpleasant. There was the tang of animal manure but also the smell of baking bread and roasting meat, and below that the clinging damp of mist thickening along the river.
“What do you think?” Fenris asked. His face had turned solemn, and he looked like he was worried I wouldn’t approve.
As if my opinion would make one bit of difference to the people of this elegant city.
“I—it’s... I’ve never seen anything so grand,” I finally stammered.
He smiled. “It’s nice, you think? It’s just a small city, really. Mostly summer homes.”
“A small city?” My voice squeaked.
“But they’ve got great food,” Fenris said as he offered me his arm. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
THE MONSTER’S WIFE: CHAPTER SEVEN
People stared as we passed the guardhouse, walked beneath the gates of the white stone wall, and entered the town. An old woman gathering laundry from a line strung across an alleyway turned to follow our progress with her eyes. A gang of children stopped chasing each other to stare at us, their mouths gaping open. Several old men sitting in the shade of a great apple tree fell silent as we passed, watching us with inscrutable expressions.
It’s our bare feet, I thought. That, or our wrinkled and ridiculous clothes. Or my barely restrained breasts. Or a thousand other things.
Fenris didn’t seem to notice. He held my arm tucked against his chest as he pointed out various things, like the towering lighthouse marking a treacherous bend in the Körmt, or the red tile roofs which all came from a nearby kiln, or the grand fountain which ran with wine during the Strawberry Festival. He seemed eager to share what he knew of Evenfel; I almost felt like he was trying to impress me.
And I was impressed. The city was enormous, and so much grander than the little village outside our cabin. I just wished I weren’t so aware of the eyes following us, pressing into my back like hard little stones. I suppressed a sigh of relief when Fenris finally turned off the wide, cobbled main street and pulled me through a small market filled with vendors who were just shuttering their little stands. On the far side of the square sat a squat, stone building with enormous windows from which emanated the warm flicker of candlelight. A sign hung above the entrance, proudly displaying a massive bull with gilded horns who glared out over the square from a navy background.
“The White Bull,” Fenris said, gesturing dramatically at the wide windows. “The finest dining in Evenfel, my lady.”
I gaped openly. Glass was tremendously expensive, or so I’d heard Maddie Liefsen brag at the festivals and markets. Her family had three, glass windows and, from the way she boasted about those windows, you would have thought their little two-story cottage rivaled King Nøkkyn’s mighty fortress.
But Maddie Liefsen’s three little windows were nothing compared to those in the building in front of me. These glass windows spanned almost the entire wall, stretching far enough to show a dozen groups of people sitting at richly polished wooden tables while a fire crackled in a massive stone hearth behind them. Only the odd shimmer of refracted light revealed that the windows did indeed hold glass, although I was half tempted to press my fingers against them, just to make sure it wasn’t an illusion.
I resisted the urge. Enough people were staring at us as it was.
“Just in here,” Fenris said with a tight smile.
I followed him through the White Bull’s intricately carved doors. Warm air wrapped around my shoulders like a shawl. I hadn’t realized the night was growing cool until I stepped inside, and I wondered briefly if I’d grow to regret that knowledge. Fenris and I were, after all, returning to a cold, stone cave. The White Bull’s interior shone with lamplight reflected on polished wood, and it smelled of smoke and rich food, fish and fried potatoes. It was a pleasant enough odor, but it still managed to make my stomach lurch. I smiled to hide the pang of discomfort.
The hum and buzz of conversation faltered as the doors closed behind me, and cold, appraising eyes turned to us. I froze on the lintel. Fenris didn’t react.
“Where would you like to sit?” he said.
As if we had much choice. The warmly lit room was crammed with people. Couples sat at every table along the wide windows, and great groups of people filed the benches at tables which stretched the length of the room. A dark, deeply polished bar filled the far end of the room, and it was lined with soldiers bearing King Nøkkyn’s snarling bear sigil.
“Not the bar,” I whispered.
Fenris led me past the windows to a small, empty table with two stools, far enough from both the fire and the bar to be overlooked and unoccupied. He smiled at me again as I sat down, although his eyes seemed dark and his shoulders were oddly tense under the thick, obnoxious red of his ill-fitting vest.
“You don’t like it here?” I asked, trying to pitch my voice low as I balanced on the little stool.
“All these people. The place reminds me of Angrboða’s castle.” Fenris’s lips tugged downward, and a shadow passed over his eyes. “I hated Angrboða’s castle.”
My gut shifted uncomfortably, and I forced myself to swallow the bitterness rising in the back of my throat. Of course I knew the monster Fenris-wolf was Angrboða’s son, and Angrboða held sway in the kingdoms to the south. She’d ruled for years as the Regent for her invalid husband. But somehow I hadn’t connected those rumors and stories to the flesh and blood man in front of me, the man I’d married. Fenris had lived in a palace, once. He’d been a prince. I supposed that meant I was now some kind of royalty. The thought made me feel even more out of place with my bare feet and ill-fitting dress in these beautiful environs.
“Now, for some food,” Fenris said.
He squared his shoulders as if he were trying to convince himself of something, then stood and walked toward the bar. Hushed whispers followed in his wake. I tried to ignore them by looking out the windows at the vendors, who were now wheeling their empty carts away from the market square. My cheeks burned, and my stomach flipped uneasily. Every single person in Evenfel, even the tired vendors pushing their cards through the twilight gloom between the buildings, was wearing shoes. I curled my own bare feet under the stool, hoping the bloom of my skirt hid them from view.
AFTER WHAT FELT LIKE an entire lifetime of staring doggedly at the wood grain of the little table and avoiding eye contact with any of the well-dressed patrons of The White Bull, Fenris re-appeared at my side. He carried a silver tray with two plates, both steaming, and two solid wooden goblets.
“There,” he announced as he set the tray on the table. “Real food for my wife.”
The plates were both filled with a browned pastry that had been sculpted to look like a fish, piles of golden fried potatoes, and what smelled like spiced, steamed apples. The scent was almost overwhelming; for a second, bile rose in the back of my throat, even as my stomach growled. Not now, I pleaded to my rebellious body. Please, not now.
“It looks wonderful,” I said.
“It should be. It’s fish from the river, wrapped in that pastry. And apples from the—” His voice cut off, and he frowned at me. “You’re not eating.”
I cast a furtive glance around the room. “Everyone is staring at us,” I whispered.
At that, Fenris seemed to relax. “Of course they are. Aren’t you used to that by now? Anyone with your beauty is bound to draw attention.”
He raised his hand to brush my cheek, and I smiled. It wasn’t my beauty that caused everyone in here to stare at us, of course. It was the ill-fitting dress showing too much of my cleavage, Fenris’s ridiculous brocade vest that was brighter than blood, and our lack of shoes. But it was kind of Fenris to say otherwise.
Bolstered by his compliment, I risked a tiny nibble of the fried potatoes. Stars! They were del
icious! I’d eaten so many potatoes in my life that I never once dreamed I’d miss the humble little things. But I loved their crisp skins and rich, creamy interiors. I’d missed food that wasn’t stale bread or bloody meat.
I’d missed more than that, I realized as I ate the potatoes slowly and carefully, so as not to upset my stomach. I missed being warm and having the kind of protection that comes from strong beams over your head and solid walls to hold back the winter wind. I’d even missed being around other people. Not necessarily the people surrounding us now, with their haughty expressions and raised eyebrows. But listening to the simple hum of human conversation made me feel safe and comfortable. It eased some deep, aching loneliness that I hadn’t realized had been growing within me.
Fenris drank from his wooden goblet and watched me eat with obvious pleasure, hardly touching his own meal. I put down my knife. The unpleasant knowledge that I would have to tell him, somehow, that our snug little cave in the Ironwood wasn’t quite enough for me wormed deep into my gut, turning my appetite sour.
I glanced again at the crowd surrounding us, trying to convince myself we’d be better off in the forest. Most of the people in the White Bull had resumed their meals and conversations, but a knot of soldiers standing near the fire were still staring at me. I turned away. There was something about those soldiers that gnawed at me, like a piece of grit stuck in my eye.
“Do you see the soldiers?” I whispered.
Fenris’s eyes widened. “The soldiers? What about them?”
“Are they watching us, do you think?”
“They’re watching you,” he said, with a relaxed smile. His cheeks were beginning to glow from the heat and whatever was in that wooden goblet. “I don’t blame them. I can’t take my eyes off you.”
I shook my head. That wasn’t it. Those soldiers weren’t looking at me like a man looks at a woman. There was something harder in their expressions, a sharpened focus and attention that was almost violently out of place among the whispers and scandalized glances at my bare feet. I l glanced over my shoulder again, pretending to wipe my chin.
The Complete Fenris Series Page 18