Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

C larice burrowed deeper into the thick quilts, inhaling the unfamiliar yet soothing scent that permeated the bedding. Woodsmoke mingled with something else—a warm, spicy fragrance that reminded her of leather and cinnamon. Rudi’s scent. Her cheeks flushed at the thought.

The bedroom looked out over the woods rather than the path to the village and he’d left the shutters open. Pale morning light filtered through frost-covered windows, casting intricate patterns across the wooden floor. The room was spartan at best with little more than a wall of shelves lined with books, the big log bed, and sturdy wooden chest. The bed had an odd open headboard and it took her a moment to realize that it must be to accommodate his antlers. Antlers!

She still hadn’t grown accustomed to them, even after the videos she’d seen on the ship and three weeks on NorPol, but they weren’t unattractive. Rudi’s were particularly intriguing, with the soft light that glowed from within, reflecting his moods. What would they feel like, she wondered. And how would that suede-like skin feel beneath her fingers? The thought of running her hand over that big muscular chest made her blush again, and she hastily climbed out of bed, wincing when her muscles protested after the previous day’s long journey.

“This is home now,” she whispered to herself, testing the words. After the chaotic evacuation from Earth, the long years on the cramped refugee ship, and the endless debates about where to send the refugees once they arrived—she finally had a space to call her own. A temporary space , she reminded herself. This was Rudi’s home, not hers.

But I don’t mind sharing it with him, she thought, a smile tugging at her lips. The warmth spreading through her chest had nothing to do with the cozy quilts. She felt at home here in a way that she hadn’t felt for a very long time. Maybe it was because he seemed to understand what it meant to be an outsider. Because she could see the same loneliness she carried within herself.

And despite his gruff exterior, he’d been nothing but kind to her. The way he’d fed her and insisted that she take his bed. His actions spoke louder than his few growled words.

A pang of guilt struck her at the thought. She’d taken his only bed - no wonder he was so grumpy. And yet he’d still been sweet and thoughtful. He also had an aura of strength that was oddly reassuring.

Her cheeks heated again as she remembered the way her body had responded to his closeness, a shivery warmth settling in her stomach. She’d never had such an instant attraction to anyone before. Not that he’d shown the slightest interest in her, she reminded herself. She’d have to be happy with the comfort and security he offered, however temporary.

“Time to prove I belong here,” she murmured.

The cold air nipped at her exposed skin when she removed her nightgown and she dressed quickly in heavy pants and a sweater. The clothes had been provided to her once she arrived, but the pants were too tight and the sweater was too big. She couldn’t help wishing she had something more attractive to wear.

Nonsense. I’m here to make a new life, not to impress anyone.

After a brief stop in the big bathroom, she crept silently down the short hallway, her socked feet silent against the smooth wooden planks. The windows in the back of the main room were uncovered as well, painting the area in a soft golden glow and allowing her to take in the details she’d been too tired to notice the night before.

One big room consisting of a compact kitchen, a worn wooden table, and a leather-upholstered chair and couch in front of the big stone fireplace, it was as spartan as the bedroom, but the high beamed ceiling and natural materials gave it a simple warmth. She found herself smiling again.

Rudi was curled on the too-small couch, his long limbs twisted at odd angles to fit the cramped space. He’d removed his shirt to sleep, revealing a broad, muscular chest. His antlers glowed softly, casting a subtle light over his golden skin and the thick muscles of his arms. The sight sent a rush of heat through her, and she bit her lip, trying to push away the sudden desire to touch him.

The hard lines of his face had softened in sleep, making him look younger, more vulnerable, and her chest tightened. He’d given up his bed for her, choosing discomfort to ensure her comfort. The least she could do was ensure he woke to a hot meal, especially after spending the night contorted on that tiny couch.

She tiptoed past his sleeping body to the small kitchen. It was simple but efficient with open shelves above worn wooden countertops. Opening the large pantry cabinet as quietly as possible, she surveyed the unfamiliar contents. Some resembled Earth foods, while others were completely foreign.

A soft snore from the living area made her smile as she looked over at him. His intimidating presence from yesterday seemed at odds with the peaceful figure sprawled across the cushions. Her gaze lingered on the subtle golden sheen of his skin, the powerful set of his shoulders. Heat crept up her neck, and she quickly turned back to the task at hand.

A large basket held what looked like eggs, though their shells shimmered with an iridescent blue tinge. Her stomach growled at the prospect of food as she placed the basket on the counter. A short ceramic canister contained dried leaves that released a spicy-sweet scent when she lifted the lid, and she decided it must be some kind of tea.

She cracked the eggs into a bowl, their yolks a deep crimson. She whisked them together, then, after some experimental sniffs, added a few herbs from the pots behind the stove. A peek over her shoulder confirmed he still slept soundly, one arm dangling off the edge of the couch, his antlers casting intricate patterns across the floor.

The stove presented its own challenge. No obvious knobs or buttons marked its surface, just a smooth crystal panel set into the counter. She pressed an experimental finger to the panel and a soft blue glow lit up one side of the stove. Excellent. She found a kettle and set it to boil while she dropped a pinch of the fragrant leaves into two ceramic mugs.

When she added the hot water, steam curled upwards, the scent reminding her of cinnamon and mint, with an undertone she couldn’t place. She took a cautious sip, then sighed with pleasure before turning back to the eggs, stirring them gently. As she sliced the remains of the loaf, she was filled with an unexpected contentment.

The simple act of cooking for the two of them felt right, comfortable. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed that sense of connection with someone since Ruth died.

A low groan came from behind her, followed by the rustle of fabric and a mumbled curse. She glanced over her shoulder to see Rudi sitting up, rubbing his eyes and looking adorably disheveled. Their eyes met and he froze, his expression shifting from sleepy confusion to something more guarded.

His antlers flickered with a faint blue glow that faded as his eyes darted between her and the stove.

“What are you doing?” His voice came out rough with sleep.

“Making breakfast.” She gestured toward the pan. “I hope that’s okay?”

He gave a sharp nod, then ran a hand through his disheveled hair. As he straightened to his full height, his gaze fell on the table where she’d set out two places. His movements stilled, and something shifted in his expression.

“You made breakfast for me as well?” he asked slowly.

“Well of course. It’s the least I can do after you gave up your bed.”

She gave him a tentative smile as she started scooping the eggs into a warmed bowl. He stood frozen, staring at the bowl as if it might disappear. Her heart clenched at the thought that such a simple thing could throw him so off-balance. What kind of life had he lived, that breakfast could render him speechless?

“Sit down,” she urged him. “Do you want some toast?”

He nodded silently and sat down, still staring at the bowl of eggs.

“Thank you,” he muttered finally as she slid a plate in front of him.

“You’re welcome. I hope it’s all right.”

She held her breath as he took a bite, watching for his reaction. His lips curved in the tiniest hint of a smile.

“It’s good. I don’t usually bother with a morning meal.”

Sighing with relief, she fixed her own plate and joined him at the table. They ate in silence for a few moments, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. She kept sneaking looks at him, noticing the way the morning light caught the gold flecks in his eyes and the subtle glow of his antlers as they reflected off the wooden walls.

She was about to ask him about his plans for the day, when the door burst open with a bang. A small figure darted inside, bringing a gust of cold air and the scent of snow—a child with silvery skin that caught the morning light like fresh frost. Two tiny crystal bumps protruded from her head, similar to Rudi’s antlers but in miniature.

He sighed.

“Lina. What have I told you about knocking?”

“I forgot.”

The child gave him a sunny smile, clearly not in the least intimidated by his frown.

“And why aren’t you in school?” he added sternly.

“Not enough power.” The little girl shrugged, giving her a fascinated look. “Who are you?”

“I’m Clarice.”

“Your hair is very pretty.”

“Thank you. Yours is pretty too,” she said sincerely.

The child had waist-length silver hair, threaded with thin braids woven with colorful ribbons.

Lina beamed at her, then turned to Rudi, her expression pleading.

“Can I stay here? And have some breakfast?” the little girl added, looking hungrily at the eggs. “Please? I promise I’ll be good.”

“I can make more eggs,” she told him.

He looked at both of them, then sighed.

“I suppose.”

She laughed and stood up, pushing her plate towards the little girl.

“Here. You start on these while I cook some more.”

He made a muffled protest which she ignored. When she returned to the table, she discovered he’d brought out a pot of jam—a good deal of which was now covering Lina’s face. She shook her head and went to get a damp cloth. The previous silence vanished as Lina chatted away merrily, especially about the upcoming Wintertide festival.

Rudi had said that it sounded like Christmas, but it also incorporated a type of New Year celebration, signifying the turn of the year. From what she remembered, feasting and presents were part of the celebration, along with a number of traditional dances.

He had an odd look on his face as he listened to the little girl and several times he appeared to be on the verge of saying something, then changed his mind.

A sharp knock suddenly echoed through the house. Before either adult could move, Lina twisted free and bounded toward the door.

“I’ll get it!”

“Lina, wait-”

His antlers flared as he lurched forward, casting dancing shadows across the walls. The tension in his broad shoulders told her that he expected trouble. After yesterday’s cold welcome from the villagers, she couldn’t blame him, but he was too late to stop Lina.

The door opened to reveal an elderly female, wearing pants and a tunic in a patchwork of emerald, ruby, and sapphire fabric that seemed to dance in the morning light. Despite the cold, she wore no coat, yet showed no sign of discomfort.

“Ah, there you are!” The female’s face crinkled into a warm smile as she spotted Clarice. “I’ve been looking for you, my dear.”