Ire Taverness's Arc

Chapter 3 of 19

Ire came down the loft stairs before dawn and found Kael already at the table. He had bread and cold meat set out for two. He did not look up when she sat. He slid a cup of tea across the boards and waited until she drank. "I'm not going with you the day after tomorrow," he said. "I'm staying." She set the cup down. Her tail went still. "You said you were coming." "I'm coming to more than one ride. I'm staying at the tavern. Days. Nights. Until the road settles." He met her eyes. "You'll have me at the bar. You'll have me in the yard. You won't run this place alone while the trail has teeth." She watched his face for the clipped tone he used when he was closing a door on her. It wasn't there. He meant it. "The jobs," she said. "Turned them down." She did not ask which ones. She reached across and put her hand over his. His fingers were warm. Her shoulders dropped an inch she hadn't known she was holding. "Then I need more room," she said. "If we're buying east, I need dry storage. The cellar won't hold a week of flour." "I know. I looked last night." He took her down the back stairs to the cellar. He had already moved the barrels aside. He pointed at the north wall, where the stone gave way to packed earth. "Dig here. Frame it out. Double the room. Two days." "Two days is fast." "I'm fast." He worked while she ran the tavern above. She heard him through the boards. Shovel, then pick, then the drag of stone. The cook fed him at the top of the stairs. The widow's boy carried water down. By the second evening the new room was framed in oak, floored in plank, and lined with shelves deep enough for sacks two rows back. It smelled of cut wood and cold earth. It was twice the cellar she'd had that morning. She stood in it with a lamp and counted the shelves. Room for flour, salt pork, onions, dried apple, oil. Room for a bad month. Room to buy in bulk and hold. That night she climbed the loft stairs behind him. She shut the door. She pulled his shirt off herself this time and pushed him back onto the bed. She kissed his throat, then his mouth, and did not let him speak for a long while. When she finally lay against his chest, her tail was curled around his leg. "Thank you," she said. "For the room." "For staying." He kissed the top of her head. She listened to the tavern settle beneath them. She had the man, and she had the shelves. Now she only had to fill them, and the road east still had teeth.