Trying my best not to look weak, I force myself to look at him from time to time, as I move to grab things for the weave, but the sight of him affects me in ways I don’t quite understand.
The fear, I get. He’s a jerk that’s nearly two feet taller than me and he doesn’t hide the fact that he thinks I’m unfit to breathe.
But every once in a while, I feel a hint of something downright scandalous. It sends a shiver up my spine and stirs my blood, quickening my breath and turning my nipples to pebbles.
It reminds me of how young maidens would watch as their favorite knight competed in tourneys. Their cheeks would flush, their hand trembling as they handed the esteemed knights their favor.
I never really cared much for them, but that was likely because I knew my fate would be far different from the other maidens’. That mine wouldn’t end with a chivalrous husband and a happily ever after.
Because my father sensed my weakness long before Ramsey did.
With the dyes mixes, I distribute the threads among them.
“They will have to soak for half the day, then I’ll string them up outside and bring herbs into the hut to help rid it of the scent.”
“Will those herbs rid my hut of your scent?”
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Tell me, Little Vaeyark, what am I doing?” he says smugly.
“You’re making things up to make me feel bad.”
A puzzled expression washes over his handsome face. “I do not have to lie to find ways to insult you. There are more than enough deficits to choose from.”
An unexpected giggle escapes my throat, because while Ramsey might be a jerk, he’s admittedly funny.
“You mock your own weakness?”
“No, I’m mocking yours.”
He blinks back at me, his blue face going pale.
Now I’ve really done it…
No point in backing down now.
“You can’t control your emotions, and that makes you just as weak as me. Maybe even more so.”
“That is not true!”
I gesture to him. “Really? Because look at you? You’re a mess, and all because I’m using your hut to weave blankets and clothing for my people.”
“I am not a mess. I’m outraged that your people depend so on mine.”
Interestingly enough, the more we banter, the braver I feel.
“But weren’t you also dependent, at one point? When you were exiled, were you not given tools to get by with? We had nothing, save the rags on our backs.”
“Tread carefully, Little Vaeyark, for no one can force me to allow you into my home.”
“Go ahead—kick me out. I’m sure one of your tribe mates will thank you for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying that I’m sure someone would love to help me out.”
“None of my tribe mates would sully their lines with a lesser such as yourself!”
