18. Katrin

Chapter 18

Katrin

T he man in black zeroed in on me from across the way, eyes darting over my form. It was hard not to notice the way his gaze breezed past the shadows on my face, marking them, but not recoiling as most would.

I dared a step forward, taking note of the pitchfork propped over one shoulder. A stable hand? Foolish of me to assume there were no servants at the manor, but I hadn't encountered any inside the house. He must have heard me scream and come to investigate. What did it say about this place that he hadn't hurried at the sound of apparent distress? Were screaming maidens a common occurrence?

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone else was here." My voice was little more than a croak.

In one smooth motion, the man flipped his pitchfork off his shoulder and plunged it into the ground. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned onto the protruding handle. The look on his face suggested he had better things to do. "Miss Fil'Owen—" I startled at the sound of my name. "Aside from the four horses, yours and mine are the only souls here."

I stepped back, horror following swiftly on the heels of realization.

"You're the Ferrier." I hadn't intended to say the words aloud, and the man made no sound in confirmation or denial. He only stared at me, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.

There was no way that this man was the same person who appeared from nothing and controlled the darkness, but as he turned, I noticed the ever-present shadows eddying about his feet.

My eyes slowly glided up his form, taking note of every detail that had been hidden from me the night we met. He was clad fully in black, but it did little to conceal the thick muscles that pulled at the fabric along his long legs and broad chest. The leather gloves still covered his hands. In fact, every inch of skin was covered except for his neck and face. And what a face it was.

He had a strong jaw dusted with stubble and dark eyes that bored into my very soul, all framed by nearly black hair with a gentle wave.

I realized I'd been staring and quickly averted my gaze, finding a sudden interest in the stark ground.

Somehow, I'd felt more hidden while he was cloaked. I itched under his scrutiny, tilting my head to force my hair over my mark. He'd already seen it, of course—at least the part of it that consumed my face and hand—but I'd been able to show him without fear of seeing the judgment and disgust reflected back in his eyes. I wasn't sure I was ready to deal with those looks again.

A dark chuckle drew my focus back to him. Apparently, my discomfort amused him.

I huffed in annoyance. Here was this beautiful, strong, magical man, and I expected him to protect me, to see me as a person with value. I'd been naive in thinking of him as my savior.

I remembered his words from the night before when he claimed he was no knight in shining armor. He was right. Standing before me was a demon in human form, a veritable prince of darkness.

I was suddenly very aware that I was an unmarried woman staying alone in the home of an unfairly attractive man. And it was unfair. This wasn't my life. It was no life at all. The Ferrier had said so himself. I was only meant to hide away here, beneath Death's nose, until it was safe to return to my utterly normal life.

"Is something wrong, Miss Fil'Owen?" He regarded me curiously, arms crossing as he abandoned his pitchfork to step toward me.

It felt like an attack. My hackles rose and I resisted the urge to bare my teeth at the perceived threat.

"I just didn't expect you to look so—" I stopped myself before I could tell the blasted Ferrier of Souls that I thought he was attractive. Heat rose to my cheeks, but my foggy mind failed to fill in the blank with a more appropriate descriptor.

"Ruggedly handsome?" he asked, a mocking smile turning up one corner of his mouth.

"Human," I spit out, pouring every ounce of indignation into my answering glare.

He sighed, shoulders drooping with the motion. "It may shock you to know that I was once human, Miss Fil'Owen."

"Please, call me Kat. And what are you now?"

"Other."

I waited for more, but he didn't elaborate. I let the subject drop.

"I was looking for food," I admitted, oddly ashamed of having basic human needs. "And water?"

"And you thought you could scream some into existence?"

I didn't try to hide my eyeroll.

He pointed over his shoulder. "There is a well there, but there are water pumps throughout the house. You'll find no food here."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared at him with all the fire I could muster. "Clearly. So what do you intend to do about it?"

He brushed the dirt from his shoulder where the pitchfork had been. The gesture was so casual, it enraged me further. "I fail to see how it's my problem."

"You agreed to keep me alive for a year." My hands balled into fists, but I kept them tucked beneath my arms.

"I agreed to keep you from Death for a year," he said, raising one finger for emphasis.

"Semantics. Either way, you can't just let me starve. That would just as surely deliver me to Death's door as your carriage." I'd grown up in the lap of luxury, so I was hardly on the verge of starvation, but that didn't mean I could go an entire year without food.

"Strictly speaking, I cannot deliver you to Death's door. I can merely show you the way there."

"You're quite infuriating, do you know that?"

"I've been told I'm quite charming actually."

My sharp retort died on my tongue as the edges of the world darkened. I blinked in an attempt to clear my vision, but my head was fuzzy. A bout of dizziness struck me. I swayed, thrusting out my arms for balance. My right hand made contact with something solid, and I grappled for the strength to hold on, my fingers refusing to do what my mind commanded. My knees buckled, and I braced for impact as the ground raced up to meet me. Or was it the other way around?

I collided but not with the ground. Something soft yet unyielding halted my fall, and I knew it was the Ferrier before the dark spots could fade from my sight. As the world came back into focus, I found myself once again in the Ferrier's arms. His proximity was all the more arresting without the hood and cloak. I leaned into his strength, breathing in the faint smell of ozone and pine. The sense of falling intensified as I glanced up to find him peering down at me, an inscrutable expression on his face.

My feet found the ground, and he stepped away, keeping his hands braced on my shoulders until I got my balance. I caught myself still leaning into his touch as his fingers slipped away. Balling my fists in my skirts, I fought the urge to chase after the sensation, knowing it was my extended seclusion and not any sort of desire for the Ferrier that had me yearning for his touch.

"I'm fine." I stepped back, waving him off though he showed no sign of following. "I don't know what's come over me. I ate before I left my home, and my water should have been plenty for two days."

"This is the third day you've been here, Miss Fil'Owen."

I did the math in my head. "No, it's only the start of my second day."

The Ferrier shook his head, and I gaped. The first time I'd slept, I'd awoken and thought it was later the same day, but I could have been mistaken. I rearranged my mental timeline to account for sleeping an entire day and realized I'd missed several meals instead of the few I'd thought.

"I haven't needed to eat for years. I assumed whatever life-extending properties this place possesses would extend to you as well." A line appeared between his brows. "Apparently, I was wrong." Glancing at the sky, he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "I cannot enter the world of the living until sundown, but I'll try to grab some provisions when I'm out tonight."

"When we're out."

"Not happening."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Fine."

"Fine," he echoed.

I glared at him. "Are you ever going to tell me your name?"

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to the stables. "It's of little consequence. I've already told you what you may call me."

"I am not calling you ‘Master of Shadows,'" I called after him. "If you won't tell me, I'll just have to make something up! I think Ferry has a nice ring to it, don't you?"

The man in question threw a particularly vulgar gesture over his shoulder before he disappeared from view.

Laughing, I returned the gesture, an act my mother would be appalled by, and left to track down one of the water pumps.