When the liquid is safe from spilling, I look up, shooting a glare at the intruder. “What do you want?”
Captain Osrik arches a thick, bushy brown brow at me. Honestly, there’s not a single part of him that doesn’t need trimming. His beard is so long I could braid it, his hair is always windblown around his shoulders, and from what I can see at his wrists beneath his sleeves, he’s hairy there as well. I just know that he’s one of those men with chest hair. The male saddles always had to use sugar wax to remove theirs. I would pay good money for someone to strap down the captain and yank on his skin, strip by painful strip.
“You’re staring again, Yellow Bell.”
My gaze cuts away from his hands, flying up to his face. Flustered, I shift on my feet. “I’m not staring, I’m simply amazed at just how much of a hairy giant you really are,” I say, curling my lip up with distaste.
“If you’re interested in seeing my body hair, all you have to do is ask.”
Why I suddenly picture his groin hair is beyond me. I don’t want to think of that. I’m not interested in anything to do with his groin. Not at all.
I roll my eyes and start to shove away from him, though the annoying oaf just follows me. “What do you want?”
“I brought you some more food,” he says as he tries to pass me over something wrapped in a bit of cloth.
“You already left the soup earlier, and my hands are a bit full at the moment.”
“What’s that?”
I feel a slight blush of embarrassment climb up my neck. “What do you think it is? It’s our...” I trail off, not wanting to say it out loud.
The boor actually leans over and looks inside of it, much to my horror. “Oh, why didn’t you just say so?” He looks behind him. “Himinn,” he barks out, and somehow, a reedy soldier appears from nowhere.
“Yes, Captain?”
Captain Osrik yanks the chamber pot out of my hands before I can stop him, and shoves it at the younger man. “Take this and go clean it out. Then return it to Lady Rissa’s tent.”
The soldier actually lights up, as if this is an honor. “Right away, Captain!”
As soon as he bounds off, I cut a look at the captain. “Don’t do that! Now some strange soldier is dealing with our...void.”
He laughs and then tries handing me the food again. “Piss and shit aren’t anything to be ashamed of, and trust me, Himinn is going to be excited about that job for the rest of the night. Now take the food, woman.”
“My name is Rissa,” I say tartly, but then I rip off my gloves, stuffing them into my pocket, and take the food, because I haven’t eaten yet tonight and I’m starving. When I peel back the small bit of cloth, I find a pocket of bread with meat stuffed inside.
“Come on, Rissa,” he says, gesturing ahead. “Come sit by the fire, eat your sandwich and drink some wine.”
I shake my head. “I’ll eat in my tent. I need to keep an eye on Polly.”
“Isn’t she sleeping?”
I hesitate for a moment too long, because he smirks. “Thought so. Come get some fresh air and sit with me, woman. You can listen to Polly pitch a fit when you get back.”
For the most part, I’ve kept away from the captain, ignoring him at all costs, but somehow, it seems like he’s always nearby. I find him riding his horse outside of our carriage, getting battered by wind and snow, yet never seeming to mind it. I see him at the cook’s fire or talking with soldiers or walking around camp every time I venture outside. I see him tending to our needs, but never barging in. And even though I try to avoid him, I still...watch.
I’m not even sure why. It’s silly, really. He’s a crass, boorish, uncivilized giant. Definitely not my type. For one, he’s a man, and I’ve sworn off men for the time being. Maybe even forever. I haven’t found a single one who’s ever been worth much of anything.
So I’ve no idea why I find myself following him to the fire. Perhaps I really do need a break from the stagnant air of animosity brewing in the tent.
When the captain leads me to the tent set up just in front of mine, I stop and stare. “You...why is your tent so close to mine?”
He ducks inside it for a moment, pulling out a fur, and then grabs two buckets. He overturns them both and sets them in front of the small fire he has going, placing the fur on one. “Here, sit.”
I blame it on the fire that I obey. It has nothing to do with the way my stomach tightens at his gruff order. Nothing to do with the way his leathers hug his tree-trunk thighs.
Nothing at all.
Yet as soon as I do sit, I nearly slump against the warmth of the flames, a sigh escaping me. I start nibbling at the sandwich, and while it’s cold and the crust too tough, it tastes so good that I could eat a whole plate of them right now.
I’m finished and licking my fingers before I even realize what I’m doing. Of course, he realizes. Nothing seems to get past him. “Good to see you eating for real, Yellow Bell.”
“When are you going to stop using that ridiculous nickname?”
He hands me a waterskin. “Oh, you’re stuck with it.”
With a huff, I tip the skin back and take a big gulp, only to sputter and cough, nearly dropping it. “What...is...that?”
“Mulled wine,” he says with a shrug. “It’ll put some warmth in your bones.”
“I thought it was water.”
“This is better.” He takes it from me so he can have a swig, and I have no idea why watching him drink after me makes me squirm, but it does. So does the way his tongue moves the wooden piercing through his bottom lip.
“So,” he begins, letting his legs stretch in front of him so his boots are nearly inside the fire. I’m glad that for once, it’s not snowing tonight. The moment we’re out of Fifth Kingdom, I’m never going back to the cold. “How’s your friend doing?”
“She’s fine,” I say automatically, just as I’ve said to him the three other times he’s asked. Although, I suspect he’s the reason the mender keeps visiting every couple of days, so my answer probably doesn’t mean much. “She will be,” I amend.
The captain nods. “I’ve seen plenty of soldiers come down off things. It’s not easy to be a nursemaid through that.”
“She’s my friend.”
“Is she?”
I stiffen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He lifts a bulky shoulder, and I try not to stare when he crosses his arms in front of him, making his muscles bulge. I shouldn’t have let him give me his coat. Then his physique wouldn’t be so visible. “Just a question.”
“Is this about that disloyal talk about Auren?” I ask defensively. “Want to judge me some more?”
His eyebrows lift. “Retract your poison, Yellow Bell, I’m not judging shit. Just seems to me that this friend of yours isn’t being very friendly to you.”
“How do you know?”
He gives me a dry look. “Tent walls are thin.”
Embarrassment heats my face. “She’s just not feeling well.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I start to get to my feet. “If you’re just going to be an ass—”
He taps his foot against my shin, making me pause. “Sit down, Rissa.”
My butt hits the bucket. Hearing the gravelly tone of his voice say my name sends an odd thrill down my spine.
What the hell is wrong with me? I absolutely refuse to be attracted to this man. I refuse. I have been with countless beautiful men—men that looked like sculptures, they were so pretty. Men that...bathed regularly. So why, every time I leave my tent, are my eyes looking around for him?
It doesn’t make any sense.
He’s infuriating, and coarse, and I shouldn’t think of him at all. Yet, I do. That first night, he said a little loathing makes it better, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since.
I can’t deny that there is something in the air that charges between us like lightning caught in the belly of a cloud. And I’m…curious. Curious about what would happen if we did clash together.