6. Catriona

6

CATRIONA

I pause when I walk into the kitchen, not expecting to find Felix up already. But he's seated at the heavy wooden table, chatting with Mrs. Leonard, right at home. Looking very dapper, he wears dark brown trousers, a cream-colored shirt, and a brown tweed waistcoat with a watch chain peeking from the breast pocket.

"Come in, Catriona, come in," Mrs. Leonard says brightly, wearing her usual pinafore over her dress. She's older than my parents, with more gray than red in her tidy bun and a soft face lined with gentle wrinkles.

"Good morning…" Felix's eyes are on my face, and he pauses like he's trying to decide which name to use today. When I shoot him a warning look, he smirks. "Cat."

"Dear girl." Smelling like rose water and gardenias, Mrs. Leonard pulls me into a hug. "It's been too long."

"It has been," I agree. "It's good to see you."

"I've been getting to know your young man." She returns to the stove, stirring something that smells like cinnamon.

I sit next to Felix and correct, "My apprentice."

"Whatever he is, I'm glad you're not out fighting those monsters alone."

"It's only temporary."

"And those matching rings you wear?" She turns to look at us, too observant. "Are those temporary as well?"

Barely resisting the urge to twist the band on my finger, I clear my throat. "They're for a job."

Mrs. Leonard lifts a brow. "Well, it seems to me that a job that brings you a man as handsome as your Felix is worth your while."

Felix bumps his knee into mine, and I resist the childish urge to swat him away.

"Please, Mrs. Leonard," I say, "your words will make his head grow, and I'd hate for him to have trouble passing through doors."

Felix chuckles, returning his attention to his breakfast.

Moments later, Mrs. Leonard deposits a bowl in front of me. Topped with a drizzle of honey, the porridge is speckled with raisins and smells of sweet spices.

We eat, making pleasant small talk, but my eyes keep straying to my ring.

It's real. A real ring on my finger, a real ring on Felix's finger. Real signatures on the marriage license.

Real but temporary.

Don't let yourself confuse the situation.

"If we don't hurry, we'll miss the coach," I tell Felix after we finish the meal. "Mrs. Leonard, as always, thank you for your hospitality. I'll have Benjamin send payment for the rooms and meal."

She nods warmly, pulling me in for a goodbye embrace. "Of course, love. You two take care of yourselves."

We leave the inn, stepping into the warm morning. The sun has chased away last night's chill, and bees haunt the late-season flowers.

"Don't," I say to Felix before he can open his mouth.

He looks entirely too smug. "Don't what?"

"You know what."

"I wasn't going to bring up how handsome Mrs. Leonard thinks I am, if that's what you're worried about. Or how worthwhile this job is because it brought me to you."

I groan a little, shaking my head. "We need to hurry."

We make it to the coach station with only minutes to spare, but there's no one milling around.

"Where you headed?" the coachman asks as we approach, looking bored.

"Braunwin." Felix grins at the empty coach. "Do you think you can make room for us?"

The man rolls his eyes. "Get in. I go as far as Waldst. You'll have to catch another coach from there."

I climb aboard, setting my satchel beside me on the bench. Felix sits opposite me, crossing his arms and leaning back. To avoid his gaze, I look out the window.

The coach lurches forward, and we sit in silence for as long as Felix can manage.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress," he finally says.

"What do you think I wore to the Warrington's Costume Ball?" Then I wince, wishing I hadn't brought it up. "Or any other ball."

"I've seen you in gowns. But never…" He motions a hand toward me. "A dress ."

I brush my hand over the cotton fabric. It's a simple design, dark green, with laces on both sides and darts in the bodice. "A gown would be inappropriate for a clockmaker's wife, and I don't need to raise the werewolf's suspicions by showing up in my hunter garb."

"You look like you should be walking barefoot through a meadow, carrying a basket of flowers, heading back to your sweet little cottage to see if your bread has risen enough to bake."

"I'm sorry you don't like it."

"I didn't say I don't like it."

He's not smiling. Felix is always smiling, but right now, his eyes are trained on me, his expression is foreign, and this carriage feels claustrophobic.

"Stop."

"Stop what?" His blue eyes hold mine hostage.

My stomach tightens, but I can't look away.

And then a smirk tugs at his lips. The pensive expression is gone, and he raises his eyebrows, acknowledging he was teasing me.

And suddenly, I feel as if I can breathe.

"I'm going to sleep." I pull my cloak from my satchel and bunch it up like a pillow. "Tell me when we get to Waldst."

I can't sleep, but I do manage to ignore Felix for a good part of the six-hour trip.

We're now in Waldst, sitting on a bench outside the station. The sun is just setting as we wait for our next coach. It's already an hour late.

The village is small and rural. A dog barks from a nearby farm, its growls increasing as twilight falls around us.

"I don't think the coach is coming," Felix finally says.

I tap my fingers across the knuckles of my hand and then release a slow breath. "Are you hungry? We passed a tavern on the way in."

He wrinkles his nose. "That place looks like it serves nothing but sausages, cabbage, and sauerkraut."

"Sauerkraut is made from cabbage."

"That explains a lot."

I let out a scoffing laugh. "You realize we're deep in the heart of Albrech, don't you? You're going to have to deal with the local fare while we're here."

A strange expression crosses his face. "Do you cook, Catriona?"

"Not well." I realize what the problem is. "Do you?"

He gives me a cheeky grin. "Not well."

"We can't eat at the local tavern for every meal," I point out. "Benjamin would have our heads."

"Then one of us will have to learn to cook."

"Thank you for volunteering."

"Why me?"

"I'm going to be hunting a werewolf. And you're…well, you're just along to look pretty."

I intentionally make my tone condescending, but Felix smirks and leans forward. "So you admit you like to look at me?"

"That is not?—"

We both whip our heads toward the nearby shadowed woods. The cry of a wolf, piercing and lonesome, cuts through the evening air.

"How far are we from Braunwin?" Felix asks, his eyes focused on the trees.

"By horse? An hour. By carriage, three probably, considering the state of these roads."

"Werewolves claim a territory, don't they?"

"Yes."

"How large is their range?"

"It probably wouldn't come this far."

"Well, I don't fancy meeting a real wolf tonight, either." Felix stands. "I'll take my chances with the sauerkraut."

Ignoring his offered hand, I rise to join him. Then I throw my satchel's strap over my shoulder and walk toward the heart of the village.

The wolf continues howling, working the local dogs into a frenzy. We don't pass anyone on the street. If it weren't for the shadowed figures in the windows, I would wonder if the village had been abandoned.

But the tavern is crowded enough. We step inside, greeted by the smell of simmering cabbage and fried pork. Felix makes a noise of revulsion, and I elbow him in the side. Then we pause a moment to get our bearings.

I turn to study the carvings on the wooden beam beside us, leaving Felix to secure a table.

"Hello, handsome." A young woman with a low-cut bodice, ample bosom, and twin blonde braids approaches him. She makes eyes at him while somehow holding two trays of beer steins, speaking Brechan. "Care for a drink? And maybe some company?"

"He has company," I snap, returning to his side.

"Ah, you're from the capital." She winks at Felix and then switches to Valetian with a heavy accent. "Find a place to sit. I'll be with you shortly."

We choose a table, and Felix grins, trying to get a rise out of me. "I take it back. I love sauerkraut."

"You're married," I hiss.

Eyes bright, he laughs. "Oh, now you'll claim me?"

I roll my eyes.

Still smiling, he settles back in his chair. "How long have we been married?"

Two days and roughly two hours. But that's not what he means.

"I don't know…a few months?" I answer.

"Newlyweds." He nods knowingly. "What's our last name?"

"Ward."

"Felix and Catriona Ward. How quaint."

"We can't all be Cunninghams."

"And we're from Valette." He subtly nods his head toward the buxom barmaid. "Our accents give us away." He pauses. "You speak Brechan?"

Officially, the Allied Provinces speak Valetian, but several regions still use their native languages.

I scan the tavern, getting a feel for the place. It's dimly lit, with dark-stained wood and stone floors. Iron lanterns hang from the ceiling, but they do little to light the space. "I understand it better than I can speak it."

"So, we're a pair of newlyweds from the capital city. What brings us to the tiny, rural hamlet of Braunwin? If we don't have a good reason, our werewolf friend is bound to become suspicious."

"My uncle passed through there once and spoke of the mountains and the orchards. It sounded so lovely; I told myself I'd like to see it one day." Looking at the table, I add, "I miss him."

"Really?"

"No, not really. That's the story."

Felix's smile is friendly and familiar, and it tugs at my foolish heart. "I believed it."

"Good. Then the people of Braunwin should, too."

"And do we?—"

Felix is cut off by the crack of the front door flying open and smacking against the wall. The tavern falls silent as the patrons turn toward the commotion, the full roar of the establishment temporarily hushed.

A man walks inside, wearing the rugged clothes of a farmer. "The coach just arrived, but Berrett wasn't driving it. The horses are spooked—something happened. We need to form a search party to look for him."

"He says the coach arrived without the driver," I translate for Felix. "They want to form a search party."

"I know. I can speak Brechan, too."

This irritates me, maybe because it means he knows what the barmaid offered.

"Should we go?" he asks.

I'm torn between protecting our cover and doing my job. A clockmaker and his new bride wouldn't rush into unfamiliar, wolf-inhabited woods to look for a man they don't know. But a hunter looking for a werewolf certainly would.

"We're out of our target's range, and this man isn't our responsibility," I finally say.

"Do you think our monster could have left Braunwin and headed this way?"

"I doubt it. Once they claim a territory, they guard it tenaciously."

"Perhaps he was attacked closer to Braunwin?"

"That's possible," I admit, looking at the table. "Or maybe he had too much to drink, fell asleep at the reins, and tumbled off and bumped his head. It's difficult to say."

"We should volunteer, shouldn't we?"

I snort mirthlessly. "You're eager to run to your death, aren't you?"

Felix studies me, frowning a little. "Are you reluctant to help because you're afraid I'll get hurt?"

"No." I jerk my attention back to his face, worried he's right. "Maybe."

"Cat—"

"Do you know what your father will do to me if you get yourself killed? I won't have a job anymore; I can tell you that. This was an unfair pairing, and you know it. Not only do I have to hunt one of the deadliest, most cunning spirit monsters, but I have to nanny you."

I'm not sure what reaction I expect, but it's not a patient sigh, nor a resigned, somewhat vexed frown. "I did this to myself, I suppose."

"Of course you did. You should have trained harder—applied yourself. You're now a liability, and to be honest, I don't know what to do with you."

"I'm sorry I've made you feel that way." He studies me, his tone and expression solemn. "But perhaps I can change your mind."

"Perhaps." I watch a group of locals leave the tavern. "But not tonight."