She lowers her lashes and gives him a curtsy. “Forgive my forwardness, My Lord.”
I try not to roll my eyes.
He gives her nothing more than a polite smile. “There is nothing to forgive.”
Disappointment flashes over Maria’s face, but then she excuses herself.
When the hall is empty, I turn toward Galinor. “Is this how it is? Do women trip over themselves just to speak with you?” My voice is testy though I mean it to be teasing. I bite my lip, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
He smirks. “Jealous?”
I give him a playful slap on his chest. “No.” I try to laugh, but it comes out high pitched and not very convincing.
He leans close. “You know what the most outrageous attempt for my attention has been?”
I shake my head, pretending to be aloof, and try not to think of how close his lips are to my ear.
“There was a girl in Lauramore who dumped an entire tray of cider over me just so I would notice her.”
My eyes go wide, and I laugh at the insinuation. “I did not!”
“No?” he asks. “Because I like that story.”
I stand with my mouth hanging open, gaping at him.
He laughs and sets his hand on the small of my back, leading me down the hall. “Well, Your Ladyship. Shall we ride to Coppel?”
Chapter 20
“But is it akembercarrot?” I ask the farmer at the vegetable cart.
He holds up the vegetable in question. “It’s a carrot.”
I look at Galinor, exasperated. He puts a hand on my arm and steps up. “She wants to know if it’s wild.”
The man scowls. “If you want wild carrots, go forage in the woods yourself. If you want high quality, farmed carrots—buy these.”
“We’ll take the potatoes,” I answer, and I hand him the coins in exchange for the roots.
It shouldn’t be this difficult to find a few vegetables. It’s our second day in Coppel, and we still haven’t found any fresh pansley. The farmers and merchants in the town squares all say the same thing: “It’s too late in the season, would you like dried?”
I tuck the potatoes in Mara’s saddlebag, and then we leave the square. We ride to the inn and tavern. Pika waits just outside of town, but Danver follows us. Several patronsraise their eyebrows at the fox. Galinor enters behind me, and any that were about to protest the animal’s presence turn back to their drinks, minding their own business.
I let Galinor lead me to a table. I roll my shoulders and stretch my neck before I sink into the chair. I ache from riding in the chilled air. It would be nice if the weather would warm just a little. It’s still early for it to be this cold.
“I’m going to secure our rooms and get dinner,” Galinor says.
I rest my head on the scarred wood table and mumble an acknowledgment. As he leaves, I keep my head turned away from him. There’s no reason to watch the exchange between Galinor and the barmaid. I’m not in the mood to see the woman fawn all over him.
Not gone long, Galinor nudges me to sit up and places a plate in front of me. “You look exhausted.”
I’ve had nightmares since witnessing Father’s change. Every night it’s the same: I’m trapped in the room, watching the monster break free from my father’s skin. Because that’s what it was like—not my father changing into a gargoyle, but rather the gargoyle ripping out from inside Father.
“It’s the cold,” I lie.
It’s obvious Galinor doesn’t believe me. He pushes the plate toward me again, and this time, I pluck up a chicken drumstick and nibble on it to appease him, sneaking the meat to Danver when he’s not looking.
“The day after tomorrow we’ll ride into Errinton,” Galinor says. He dives into his food with enthusiasm onlya man could have. How can he eat when my own stomach is in knots?
