“I made these for you! Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to stitch? Do you?” Maud grabbed the socks from Draka and slipped one of them open before holding it up to his face, “See that? That’s blood! Mine. The least you can do,” she threw them at him again, this time he caught them, “is wear them!”

  Of all the things that Draka could have done. Of all the things! Maud huffed while she watched him meander his way toward the porch. Why was he taking so long? Dragging his feet like she had all day to wait for him. He slowly put a foot on the first step onto his porch and looked at her with a cocked head and wide blinking eyes. She put her hands on her hips.

  “Well, come on. What are you waiting for, sunrise?” Maud glared.

  “You sound like ma.”

  Her glare shifted to Alden, who gulped, and back to Dra…Now where did that pauper knight go now? She rushed out the door. Sure enough, he was making his way toward where the soldiers were working on the Stable on the side of the house. “Oh…No you don’t!”

  She ran across the porch and leapt. Draka was fast. Faster than she had ever seen. A twist of his shoulders, sweep of his feet, and he caught her in his arms with brows smushed together and wide eyes glowering at her.

  Maud forgot to breathe. She didn’t know that she could forget to breathe, but she did in that moment, looking up to him. How can I feel like I’m in trouble and also want to kiss him?

  He rolled his eyes and set her down. She took the opportunity with a reach, pinch, and tug. Draka tried to straighten, but he wasn’t as tall as sometimes he seemed to look. In fact, he was only a head taller than her, which meant that once she had a hold of his ear, she only had to stop standing on her toes for him to be at her mercy.

  “Come on,” Maud took a step toward the door, keeping her grip. “Now get in here and…”

  Draka flicked her nose. She let go of his ear, stunned. The audacity! She had never…no one would ever…How dare he!

  Draka rubbed at his ear, staring at her as if she had gone mad, had betrayed him, confused him, and angered him, all at once.

  Her hands covered her face. I am acting like ma. She took a deep breath and walked up to him with a finger to his chin.

  “I’ll no feed you another bite if you don’t get yourself in there and take off your boots.”

  Draka blinked at her. No longer rubbing his ears, he truly looked betrayed now. It was easy to understand his gesture of ‘Why?’

  “Because I said so, now in with you!”

  Once inside, she pointed to a chair and he reluctantly sat, that look still across his face at her. Alden had a similar look, though his edged more to her being a madwoman.

  She ignored Alden and pointed at Draka’s boots. “Both of them. Go on. I’m not taking them off for you, your lordship, that’s what a wife does.” Then, on her way to grab a bucket of warmed water from the hearth, “And you haven’t made me one yet.”

  Alden’s eyes were wide saucers as he mouthed to her, ‘What is wrong with you?’

  She didn’t look at Draka. Instead, she lowered her head to the water bucket and winced, mouthing, ‘shit,’ through her teeth at herself for having said that out loud. She didn’t look up until she had set the water down beside him and draped a cloth over the side of the bucket.

  “Wash them before you put the socks on,” she finally looked up to him. His mouth was gaping, his eyes narrow, studying her. “Don’t look at me like that. After all I went through to treat that leg of yours—the humiliation, embarrassment—I’m not letting you undo it all because you refuse to clean yourself.”

  His head tilted at her. He nodded and tugged the other boot off.

  She gasped. It wasn’t the smell. All her attention was fixated on the rawness of his ankles and feet, the shining scrapes, the broken blisters, the redness around his toenails. His eight toenails. On the foot that had been injured, it was missing the small toe in the middle. The other foot’s big toe was a small fleshy nub.

  She looked up to his concerned glance and steadied herself. She understood without him saying—well, in his own way—anything. If she were missing toes and had feet that looked like that, she wouldn’t want anyone to see them. Not anyone she cared about anyway.

  She rose back onto her feet and went to the hearth after saying, “Wash them as thoroughly as you can, then I want to see you put your socks on to be sure you do it this time.” Once she was there, she said to Alden, “Any possibility you’d be willing to wash the pot for me?”

  Alden blinked at her. “Wash the…” She gave him a meaningful stare. “Right,” he whipped his head back and forth between her and Draka. “Of course I will.”

  “Thanks, little brother,” she kissed his cheek and said quietly into his ear, “Take your time, please.”

  “Don’t overdo it,” he whispered back.

  “I won’t,” she whispered while she hugged him.

  She glanced around him to see if Draka suspected anything, but he was busy scrubbing at his foot and hissing. He didn’t hear a word, good.

  Now, for the treat. She put the basket on the table and began to unload it. A loaf of bread, a jar of dressing, some chopped onions, turnip slices, slivers of venison, and the last blood orange that she had to climb nearly to the top of the tree to reach. Draka’s ears perked up the same way that Vigora’s did when she was looking for pears.

  She beamed. Any other man staring at her the way he was and she wanted to run away. hide, or yell at them, but with him it was the opposite. She enjoyed it. Even if he wasn’t fully staring at her, he was concentrating on her hands as she prepared his sandwich. A man’s heart was filled by his stomach, she remembered grandma saying. Or maybe it was old Addie, since this used to be her house. Really, the same thing. She put the finished sandwich on the plate she brought and slapped her hands together.

  “Alright,” she said with excitement aimed at Draka, who was on the verge of drooling. But it wasn’t meant for him alone. All her pride washed away as she slid both hands under the ends of the plate and lifted it from the table.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  She tightened her arms, pressed her elbows tight into her sides, and held it with all the might her thumbs could give. Don’t shake. Don’t shake. Don’t shake.

  Slowly, cautiously, she eased her way toward him. The plate was vibrating, the sandwich was bouncing. Just a few more steps. All she had to do was set it in front of him.

  The sandwich teetered closer to the edge of the plate. She felt pressure behind her eyes, building in her cheeks.

  Her lips tightened. It was getting worse.

  If he sees that she shakes like a leaf, he’ll never say yes. He’ll stop protecting her. He’ll get up and force her out the door no matter how good she cooks for him, no matter how she shows him that she will do anything for him if he never stops making her feel safe. What if he sees that and decides that she’s too weak? That she’s not worth it? No, he must see that she’s worth all that he does. He must see that she can still take care of him while he takes care of her.

  No…no…no…The plate vibrated across the edges of her thumbs and slipped just as she was trying to set it back on the table.

  Please, no.

  It hit the table with a bounce that sent the sandwich to the floor in pieces. The plate hit the floor on the edge and shattered.

  “Stupid hands!” Maud threw herself to the ground beside the mess. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She waited for him to stomp his feet or slam his fist or something to show that she upset him. She couldn’t bring herself to look.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she knew the tears were coming as she began to pick up the sharp broken pieces. She can never do anything right. No matter what she tries, it always gets ruined. Always fails, falls apart. Whatever she wants or hopes for shatters before her eyes like the plate.

  “I’m trying so hard,” she said to herself or at least she thought until Draka grabbed her hands and turned them over to look at her palms. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to see the disgust in his face at her clumsiness. But she couldn’t help herself. She looked.

  Their eyes met. There was sympathy in his eyes, concern. They looked across her face, down at her hands, and back to her eyes, full of…she couldn’t quite get a fix on what he must be thinking, but none of it could be seen as bad. He grinned in such a way that made her shift her concentration to not throwing her arms around him and pulling him to her or her onto him.

  He pointed at her then raised his hands defensively.

  “No,” her voice refused to be above a whisper. “I’m never afraid around you. It’s my…it’s me. I just shake. Always have.”

  Draka sat back from her, his head tilting less from confusion and more with a thin-lipped expression of concern.

  She wiped a finger under nose as if she needed to wipe away snivels even though there was nothing there, “I fell through the ice when I was little and have shakes ever since. That’s why it’s so hard for me to stitch. I prick my fingers more than I do the cloth.”

  He chuckled warmly. Her heart soared as he took her hands again and bowed toward them. Ma would never believe her eyes if she saw him now, being a true noble knight.

  Her breathing quickened and she shallowed. Her mouth went dry as she watched. She was bracing herself. The moment he looks up, she’ll kiss him. That way he can’t leave again. That way she’ll always be safe. She will latch onto him and never let go. This was the moment all the stories have. The moment that the princess realizes that it wasn’t her life alone that would be saved. He’d protect her family, too, because they would be his family then. Life without fear was only a lift of his chin away.

  Blinding light burst from their clasped hands. She shut her eyes against it. Her fingers tingled with warmth that pumped from them, through her arms to the rest of her. Her back arched as her chest expanded from her drawing in the longest, deepest breath she had ever taken. Her heart steadied. Her lips forced themselves into a smile. A wide, beaming, smile that was bigger than she had ever felt herself do. She felt energy within her. Warmth. Comfort. Hope.

  He loosened his hold on her hands.

  She opened her eyes.

  As if the darkness she had lived in her entire life had been washed away by the light that was now gone from their hands, that magical blinding light, everything was brighter. Filled with colors. Not just colors, but different colors of colors. His quilted coat wasn’t just white. It was different threads of white and slightly whiter white and some were darker white, almost gray. There were different colors in his arm hair. A texture to his skin that she had never noticed before. Tiny wrinkles that crisscrossed all across the tops of his hands, small pinholes were between his hairs covering his wrists.

  Then she saw his eyes and her smile widened, her mouth opening wide in awe. There were colors in his eyes, colors she had never seen before, sprayed through his golds in flecks and lines that were held in place by dark rings that were clouds of…color. His skin was brighter, vibrant. She could see the individual hairs in his short whiskers, the grays, the browns, all in different shades. His lips were creased. She had never noticed that. He had laugh lines, but they were still smooth. His eyes…she had to go back to his eyes.

  She pinned him back, straddled him, and leaned as close to his eyes as she could. Draka grabbed her shoulders, she slipped her knees over his arms to hold them while he looked up at her in a panic. She pushed one of his eyes wider with her fingers and leaned closer to it, “Your eyes are so pretty. I've never seen...”

  He shook his head away from her and slid out from under her with a shove that sent her almost tumbling. She laughed. The walls could have burst from how full and loud she was laughing. Draka shook his head at her, blinking like she had gone mad.

  She only laughed harder. Then she saw the plate and laughed herself into lying on the floor. The floor of light browns, dark browns, darker browns, and lighter brown grains, all with textures she could not only feel but now could see. She stared at the ceiling. And she laughed. Her body shook with each guffaw. She could see the shapes of the bound straw, the grainy and smooth textures of the wood beams, the small hairs sticking from the twine.

  There was energy boiling up inside of her. She had to stand up. She had to run. She had to dance. She had to skip. She had to laugh. She was already laughing. She was already dancing, too, making her dress spin around her so that she filled the room. Became all that the sky and Draka could see.

  “I…what…how…Draka,” she didn’t hesitate to leap into him, to fasten her arms around him, to leap onto her toes to kiss his nose with a peck.

  It made him pull back from her, but she didn’t let him get away this time. She grabbed his hand and spun out with a stretch of her arm, then back into his embrace. “What did you do to me? Why? Why?”

  Draka looked down at her with a grin and shook his head at her. She fought against him pulling his hand from hers but relented to see him point a finger at himself, shake his head, then point it toward the ceiling, then to her. His other hand, however, she had firmly pinned on her waist with her elbow. Her own hands were clasp behind his neck. If he weren’t so strong, she would have pulled him down to her. Or lifted herself to him. Or both. Would he be willing to let her sit on his shoulders? Or carry her on his back like Pa used to? That would be fun. What did he say again?

  “I don’t understand.”

  He gestured again. She fought to keep his hand on her waist, even going so far as to wedge his hand between her elbow and her hip, causing them to spin together across his house. She didn’t look at his gesturing hand, she couldn’t look away from his eyes, those beautifully colorful eyes. He huffed at her, but in an amused way. Or maybe in embarrassment. Frustration? Perhaps he’ll explain it some other time. For now, she just wanted to…she began laughing again.

  Draka finally freed himself from her and took a step back to hold up his hands at her. She nearly doubled over trying to catch her breath from laughing so hard. Even trying to stand still was impossible. She was swaying to a rhythm that didn’t exist and she didn’t care, she wanted to dance. Maybe even sing. And run. And play. She had it! She’ll have Alden play and run and dance with her on her way back to the house to get Draka’s bigger, better, more filling, sandwich.

  “What?” She held her hands up at him, still swaying and swishing her dress skirt. Her smile didn’t fade while she mimicked his tilted head and hand gesture. And then she followed to where Draka was looking. Her hands. Her hands! She held them up in awe. The smile faded. She turned them over again and again. Like his hands, she saw the textures, the light colored fuzz in place of his dark…well…fur with how much hair he had on them, but that was nothing in comparison to how steady they were. “What? How did you…did you…How?”

  He shook his head at her again, beaming with a curious brow. When her eyes looked past her hands at him, he again pointed to the ceiling. To the sky.

  “It’s gone,” she gasped. “My shaking is gone.”