“Lose something?” The voice came from directly behind her.
Heart pounding, Brin shot up and spun so fast she nearly fell. A hand grabbed her forearm, catching her. Terrified, she pulled back and nearly screamed—but it wasn’t a raow that had hold of her.
“Oh—sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the young man said, letting her go the moment she was steady again.
“Shouldn’t sneak up on people, then,” Brin snapped. The moment she spoke, she wished she could take the words back.
This wasn’t the first time Brin had seen this particular young man. She had first noticed him in the training yard, a place she’d passed each day when delivering Roan’s midday meal. If left to herself, Roan would forget to eat, so Padera and Brin delivered. Would-be-warriors were always practicing in the upper courtyard in front of the smithy, and this young man was always there, even in the snow and rain. On warm days, he’d take his shirt off, and Brin was thankful he was so intent on his lessons that he didn’t see her sneaking a peek his way. His body was pure lean muscle, but it was his smile that attracted her most. As he sparred, a huge grin dominated his face, like he was taking down a giant or slaying a dragon. Something wonderfully wild lay behind such a grand grin. She’d felt the same way about Raithe when he first came to Dahl Rhen. Neither of these men were farmers, shepherds, or woodcutters.
When she first noticed the young man, she thought he looked familiar. Back in Tirre, there had been a boy, a scrawny kid who lived with Raithe and Malcolm. Brin only noticed him because he was one of the few beneath the wool who was her age, and he came to the few chieftain meetings that Raithe had attended. But the young man she watched practicing in the upper yard, the same one who’d just grabbed her arm, was bigger, fuller, and taller. He sported disheveled locks, dark beautiful eyes, and patches of hair on his cheeks and chin. The boy she knew from Tirre had been covered in a torn, stained rag. This man wore a longshirt cinched tight at his waist by a sword belt holding two blades.
What had started as a chore became the most anticipated part of her day. After dropping off the food for Roan, Brin would linger in the yard outside the smithy, watching. Each day she hoped he would notice her, but he never looked her way. During the long walk back home, she daydreamed about the day they would eventually meet. Most scenarios involved him making some blunder, falling perhaps. He’d feel foolish, look awkward, but she would smile and make light of the misstep, assuring him it happened to everyone. Then he would invite her to take a walk. As they strolled through some lovely forest—not that there were any within two days’ travel—she would tell him about her book. She’d talk about language, writing, and the story she had found on the tablets from Neith; the young hero would be so impressed that he would fall in love with her. They would marry, have children, then grandchildren, and finally die in each other’s arms, wrinkled and gray.
Reality was quite different.
“I wasn’t sneaking. I just—”
“You certainly weren’t announcing yourself from afar.” Brin didn’t know why she said it. She was nervous, off-balance, and the words just came out—and they came out angry.
“Well, I—ah…” He looked awkward, then glanced at the house. “I was looking for Roan, the metalsmith. I heard she lived around here.”
“She does.” Brin then eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want with her?”
“I want to be fitted for armor.”
“Oh,” Brin said stupidly. Having saved her from falling, he remained close. She could have leaned out and kissed him. The thought hovered in her mind, forming a terrible distraction. Catching herself, wondering how moronic she must look staring his way, she blinked. “Ah…Roan works up at the fortress in the upper courtyard. She lives here—is supposed to at least—but she spends all her time over there.”
“Yeah, I know,” the pair of lips, dark eyes, and open shirt said. “But I was just up there and…”
“And what?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t see her anywhere around. So, I thought maybe she came here. And then I found you on all fours groping around the ground, so I—”
“I wasn’t on all fours! And I most certainly wasn’t groping!”
He held up his hands. “Honestly, I don’t know what you were doing.”
“If you must know, I was looking for footprints.” Another sentence she wished she could take back. This conversation is not at all like I imagined.
His eyes narrowed. “You were…what?”
“Never mind. Roan’s not here.”
The young man hesitated, then finally nodded, turned, and walked away.
You’re such an idiot! Brin screamed in her head. Great impression. Maybe if I’d actually been eating the dirt, if I’d had a mouthful of soil that was spilling in clumps over my lips and was—
“Why were you looking for footprints?” The young man had stopped. He was staring back at her.