I sigh, my shoulders slumping. “I smell bad.”
“Yeah, because you bathed using the men’s soap, which is overpowering and smells like mud and tar.”
“I had to.”
“Mind telling me why?”
“Last night, Ramsey got pissed because he could smell me.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure it wasn’t Harold he was smelling?”
“Harold is so small, he only smells a tiny bit, and it’s not bad. It’s musky.”
“Then maybe Ramsey is just trying to break your spirit.”
“Why would he do that?”
She shrugs. “It’s a tactic some men employed back in Penticar to make maidens more likely to go to bed with them.”
“Well, I can tell you right now that Ramsey has absolutely zero desire to be within a hundred feet of me.” I tilt my head to the side, confused. “But why would a woman bed a man who insulted them?”
“It makes them desperate for approval, I guess.”
An icy ribbon jets past, and I shiver.
“That’ll wake you up?” Arwin grumbles, rubbing her bare arms.
“Look, I know I have no right to ask this of you, but could you please pick the orange flowers so I don’t work up a sweat and further offend Ramsey’s delicate senses?”
“Fine.”
After gathering the flowers, I head back to Ramsey’s hut to finish making the orange dye.
Unfortunately, it’s not empty.
“Why must you take so long with your weaves?” Ramsey barks. “And why do you have tubs full of color all over the place, on my own table? Your concern should be with surviving the cold, not vanity.”
Don’t let him think you’re weak…
“The green dye wards against insects,” I snap back, “and the lighter dyes break down the fabric to make it more flexible.”
He hesitates for a moment before mumbling, “Strong in different ways, they say. Yet if they were strong, they’d make their own place to work.”
“Were you intending for me to overhear that?”
His upper lip sneers in contempt.
“If you haven’t noticed, my people are working hard to ensure our survival. It’s not that we refuse to build a place for me to weave. We don’t have time. Grixis says the cold season will be upon us soon, and that it’ll be brutal, so grumble all you want, but it won’t make me move any faster.”
For a long moment, Ramsey is silent, and I wonder if I’ve gained some respect.
Just as I’m about to continue with my work, his brow pinches, and he leans forward, his silver eyes narrowing on my shoulder.
“Is that the same vaeyark?” he snarls, his mouth twisting with rage at every word he utters.
I look to the side and see Harold sitting on my shoulder, which is stupidly bold of him.
I turn, bringing my shoulder away from Ramsey. “Don’t worry about him.”
