Free Forest of Ruin by Kelley Armstrong Page B

enjoying the dream, feeling the heat and the—
    â€œMy lady?”
    Now Ashyn did bolt upright, as Tova growled and rosefrom her side. A figure appeared in the entrance to the small cave where Edwyn had put her for the night. It was a young man, and all she could see was his outline. A little under average height, but well-formed, with tousled curls, and her first thought was Ronan . She blamed the dream, because Ronan would never call her “my lady.” She was Ash, unless he was annoyed, and then she was Ashyn.
    The young man standing in the entrance was Ronan’s stature, but Northern in his coloring, with light hair, blue eyes, and skin as pale as her own. She knew him, too. Tarquin, the guard Edwyn had assigned to watch over her cave as she slept.
    â€œHmm?” she said.
    â€œYou called out, my lady.”
    Her cheeks flamed red-hot, and she was glad for the darkness. “Did I?” she managed to say in as calm a voice as possible. “I must have been dreaming. It has been a very difficult fortnight. My dreams are often unsettled.”
    â€œYes, it did sound unsettled.” He lit his torch and ducked to step into the low cave. “I could summon the healer with a sleeping draught.”
    â€œNo, I am quite fine. But thank you for asking.”
    He lifted the torch, and she realized she was still sitting up and her bedclothes were . . . less than adequate, having been borrowed from a woman significantly larger than Ashyn. She tugged the blanket up, but not before Tarquin had gotten a good look, and he stopped short, staring even after she covered herself, and continued to stare, as if he’d never seen a girl on a sleeping pallet. She dropped her gaze, trying to be demure, only to discover that she’d dropped it to his breeches, where shecould see the proof of his thoughts.
    She tore her gaze away as her cheeks flamed.
    â€œI—I’m sorry, my lady,” he stammered. “I did not mean to intrude. I only wished to be sure you were well and did not need my assist—”
    He stopped there, and when she looked over, his face was as red as hers must surely be.
    â€œI do not,” she said evenly. “But again, I thank you for offering.”
    â€œThen I’ll leave you to your sleep. If you need me—I mean, if you require assist—that is, a sleeping draught . . .”
    She tried not to smile as she lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you.”
    She did smile then, offered it to him along with the thanks, and when she did, he stared again and said, “You are beautiful, my lady.” Then his eyes widened, as if in horror, and he said, “I did not mean—that is to say—”
    â€œThere is no harm in a compliment. Thank you, Tarquin.”
    And there was no harm in it. If anything, it was welcome. Ashyn had grown up knowing her looks would not appeal to many young men in the empire. Either she was too pale and odd in her appearance, or she was exotic and desirable because of that and no other trait.
    Even when young men in Edgewood did find her looks to their taste, there was another who looked exactly like her, and whose brash and bold personality always outshone Ashyn’s quiet timidity. The only young man who’d sought to court her was the scholar Simeon . . . who’d then named her sister and the prince as traitors. Not quite a pleasant memory. So to havea Northern boy tell her she was beautiful? It was a small thing, but it felt warm and comforting, even if her return smile held no hint of invitation.
    â€œI—I’ll leave you, my lady,” he said, backing up . . . and hitting the cave wall.
    She tried not to laugh. “Thank you again, Tarquin. I will see you in the morning and—”
    A cry sounded beyond the cave. Tarquin raced out. Tova lunged in front of Ashyn as she pulled her dagger from under her sleeping pallet, grabbed her cloak, and started for the cave entrance. Tarquin stood a few