Page 4 of Apples Dipped in Gold
So I did.
Then he poured the contents over my head.
“More water, wench,” he said, shoving the pitcher into my hands.
There was nothing else to do but obey.
When I returned a second time, Jackal was dressed. He wore a dark woolen tunic over trousers and high boots. He looked like our father, with his proud, chiseled face and dark shorn hair. I hated it because my father had loved me, and Jackal did not.
He let me pass and return the pitcher to his bedside table. While he washed his face, I hurried to clear a pathso that Jackal could leave his room without his boots getting wet or pieces of ceramic in his soles.
I worked fast and was finished by the time he turned and strolled out of his room, following at a distance as he headed to the kitchen. I would have to finish cleaning later. For now, I had to serve the hunters breakfast.
When I entered the kitchen, my brothers and a now-clothed Llywelyn sat around the long banquet table. It was far grander than any other piece of furniture in our cottage, because my father had made it, though over the years, the wood had worn, and if they weren’t careful, they would end up with splinters in their fingers.
I worked in silence as I filled plates of food and tankards of beer for the boys and Llywelyn, who sat in Michal’s lap.
“It is so dangerous to hunt in the Enchanted Forest!” said Llywelyn. “How do you manage to come out alive?”
It was the answer everyone in Gnat wanted. There were rumors, of course, that my brothers had been kissed by the fae or graced by witches, but I suspected something far more nefarious.
The fae were not kind, and neither were witches. Whatever gave my brothers the power to enter the forest unharmed was closer to a curse than anything.
“It is a skill,” said Michal.
“I should like to watch you hunt,” she said.
“No,” Jackal snapped.
Llywelyn glared at him but was not deterred by my brother’s rudeness.
“What will you hunt today?” she asked.
“Whatever crosses our path,” Michal answered.
“I hope you will find a stag,” she said, and then in alow, sultry voice, she added, “It would keep me fed for a whole month.”
“I will keep you fed,” said Michal. “I will fill you up.”
She giggled and leaned close as if to kiss him, but before their lips could touch, Hans spoke.
“Funny,” he said. “I heard you say the same thing to the sheriff’s daughter last week and the mayor’s daughter the week before.”
Both Michal and Llywelyn glared at him, but Llywelyn did not seem to care that Michal had more than one lover. She turned her attention to him, looping her arms around his neck.
“Perhaps you have promised them something, but you have promised me more.”
A heavy silence followed her statement, and after a few seconds, Jackal stopped eating and set his fork and knife on the tabletop, his stare trained on the two lovers.
“Promises are dangerous,” Jackal said. “You did not promise, did you, Michal?”
“N-no,” Michal stammered. “Of course not.”
“And why should he not promise?” Llywelyn demanded. “I have been a good lover. I have been a loyal lover.”
“You are engaged to the sheriff’s son,” said Hans. “You are anything but loyal.”
Llywelyn had nothing to say.
