He sighed loudly then walked to the stairs. “Take her down there and clean this place up.”
“Where are you going?”
“Shower.” He moved the rest of the way until he disappeared.
I turned back to Rose. “Sorry, it’s not you. He’s just…kinda grouchy.”
She stared at me, warm breath coming from her nostrils.
“Let’s go.” I took her by the reins and guided her outside. It was a sunny day and there was less snow, so I spotted the stables farther down the hill. It was the first time I’d been outside, since I arrived, so I took a look around. There were gardens on the property, but now they were wild because no one had taken care of them in decades. The bushes were overgrown, flowers mixed with weeds, and the patio furniture made of iron had rusted to a blood-orange color.
I walked her to the stables and found another horse there. “At least you’ll have someone for company.” I walked her inside then found the bucket of hay. I poured it into her trough so she could eat. I shut the door then turned to the other horse. He was solid black, so his eyes disappeared into his coat. He stared at me in stillness—just like his rider. I could tell he wasn’t friendly like Rose, so I didn’t bother trying to pet him. I made sure he had food and water before I returned to the chateau.
When Magnus came back downstairs, it was evening.
The light had faded from the windows, so the lamps were the only illumination in the area. I sat on the cushions on the floor and ate my bowl of old soup. I looked up to stare at him.
His jaw was clean because he’d shaved, his hair was neat, and he was in sweatpants and a t-shirt…the first time he’d ever worn in regular clothes around me. He was dressed entirely in black, barefoot. He stared at me for a few seconds before he turned around and walked off again.
I went back to my soup.
He reappeared minutes later with firewood he’d retrieved from somewhere and carried it to the hearth. He set each log in place before he lit the fire with a bunched-up piece of paper. The flames were big instantly, bringing light and heat to the sitting room.
Then he went into the kitchen.
Now that we were outside the camp and he was in different clothes, I almost expected him to have a different personality, but he was the same brooding man who seemed perpetually unhappy.
He came back a moment later, a bowl of soup in his hand. To my surprise, he took a seat beside me on the floor, pushing away the cushions. His spoon moved through the bowl, and he served his mouth the warm liquid, getting chunks of potatoes and noodles.
It was quiet, our utensils tapping against the bowls.
I looked up and stared at him, seeing the chiseled jawline that I’d kissed, the full lips that had kissed me in places besides my mouth. His shoulders stretched out the cotton of his shirt, and the veins that ran down his arms were like webs under the skin. I’d only seem him outside his uniform once—when he was naked. But seeing him in sweatpants and under a roof different from a cabin made him look like a normal person.
Like we were normal people.
The fire cracked and popped in the hearth beside us, keeping us so warm it practically felt like summer. “What happened?”
He kept his eyes on his food. “Not sure. I was unconscious for a few days.”
I cringed and looked back into my bowl, feeling guilty for what I’d done.
“The search party gave up after a couple days. They think you may have crossed the river, but if you did, you got wet, and if you got wet, you wouldn’t survive for more than an hour.”
That was true. I almost didn’t survive. “Did they suspect you?”
“No. But they did give me shit about it, for covering your ass when you stabbed me in the back.”
It offended me, because nothing could be further from the truth. I was loyal to him. The only reason I’d struck him was because he forced me to.
“They said they hope I learned my lesson.”
“Have you ever helped another prisoner escape?”
He stilled at the question, his spoon going stationary in the bowl. Then he lifted his gaze to look