Page 38 of Bound

He stopped. Ran a cloth over his forehead.

And looked toward the house for a long moment.

Before he shook his head.

Kept working.

He held his wings aloft, offering him shade. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, either from the heat or because they were wet from her rescue.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Wishing she was different. Knowing that she wasn’t.

And that it would take her a long while to go downstairs. To come up with some way to smooth things over.

And if she cried just a little more then...

Then it simply could not be helped.

???

Wren went to the springhouse. There was no ice left. Not since late spring. But there was cold milk that she poured into a jug.

She might have left by the backdoor, and did not chide herself for it. It was simply faster, that was all.

He wouldn’t want to eat with her—she was already resigned to that fact. He’d always eaten the entirety of his portions, so she made sure there was a little extra. And a biscuit too taken from the clay jar on the counter where she kept them fresh when the mood struck her.

Two biscuits.

Because she was sorry for speaking so harshly to him.

She took out the tray when he was on the far side of the field. That was cowardly too, because she was able to raise it slightly to get his attention before she placed it down beneath the shade tree.

She’d forgotten he would not have to walk, so she startled when he was suddenly beside her. She straightened, the tray at her feet. “Hungry?” she asked lamely. It was hours since they’d shared breakfast, so it was a foolish enquiry, but that was her, wasn’t it? Foolish and...

“You do not care to join me?” he asked, staring down at the offering she’d brought.

It was obvious from the single glass, the lone plate. The napkin she’d folded with care before placing the biscuits on top.

Her cheeks flushed. It was the heat, that was all. Although today a breeze pushed through, a welcome relief to the intensity of the suns. “I...” she began, uncertain how she meant to answer him. The truth was easiest, although it cost her something to give it. “I didn’t think you’d want me to.” She couldn’t look at him and tugged at her braid instead, looking out at his progress. He’d be done today, just as he’d said.

He sighed, his hand coming to tug through his hair before he pulled the appendage back with a grimace. “If I make use of your pump to wash, would you come and sit?”

Her mouth opened. She closed it again.

He was being gracious. Pretending that he had been the one in the wrong.

She tugged harder at her braid. “Braum,” she began, needing to get this out. But he sighed again, nodding to himself as if that was a rejection to his offer.

“All right,” she said instead. The apology could come when there was food between them. Although... she might sit on the other side of the tree again, the better to manage it.

She could not say that he brightened, but he nodded and there was... something that shifted in his posture. A loosening of his tension as he moved toward the pump and waited for her to go to the house and fetch her own meal.

She stooped first, lest any insects find their way into his plate while unattended.

And did not allow her eyes to linger when he brought fresh water from the pump and into his hair, scrubbing at his face and hands and...

What was wrong with her?

She did not hurry, and it was a bit of a scrunch, as the best tray was already in use. But she managed, and he was already seated at the tree when she came out again. Hair and skin glistening with fresh water rather than sweat.