Nelle woke up to the disappointing realization that she hadn’t slept well at all.

One would think that after such a taxing journey, you’d drop dead the moment your head hit a horizontal surface, but she had twisted and turned in bed for a long time before falling into a fitful trance. Twice, she had woken up in panic, having dreamed of bright yellow eyes watching her from the dark corners of the unfamiliar room. She was sure that at some point, they had belonged to Luric.

Even without moving too much, Nelle could tell she was sore all over, and that for the next few days, she’d be walking around with aching muscles. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. She hadn’t dared to take off her socks last night out of fear of seeing what the excruciating march had done to her feet, but the way the lightest brush against the skin of her toes left them stinging and burning meant that they were a raw, blistering mess. The only thing left now was for her to come down with a fierce cold, and considering she had felt last night’s chill down to her very bones, it was more than likely.

Though every inch of her was begging to stay in bed, she pushed herself up from underneath the coarse cover to face the day.

It was cold, but that was to be expected. The room was large, with a high ceiling, and no fireplace. There was no glass on the windows of the first floor, only the crooked, wooden shutters serving as protection against the wintry air and severely failing at it. She counted fourteen empty straw beds in total, seven placed on each side of the long walls, facing the opposite one. It reminded her in a way of the dormitory at her boarding school, only it was far more...rustic. Mattresses and feather beds were probably considered a luxury in these parts, and the linen sheet she had been given to place on top of her heap of straw had done little to keep it from poking her. Or was this hay? She didn’t know the difference.

If there was one thing she was grateful for in regards to Runrick's remoteness, it was for the very low probability of anyone else coming here to look for lodgings. Otherwise she’d be forced to share the room with total strangers, even if they were male.

Nelle raised her eyes up towards the ceiling, straining to hear any movement coming from above. There had been an option for privacy, the innkeepers offering the attic for her to use, but she had turned it down to let Luric have it. On the off chance that they did have to house another traveler, she would rather deal with the discomfort than let an unsuspecting guest sleep next to a Blighted.

She rummaged through her luggage trying to decide which clothes were the thickest and warmest, then decided that it didn’t matter because she’d want to wear all of them at once. Last night, she learned that two layers just wasn’t enough. She would probably have to buy something made out of fur if she wanted to survive.

Two sets of undergarments, two pairs of legging, trousers, a roll-neck pullover, another one, and a cardigan over that. It would have to do; any more and her movement would get compromised. Given the nature of their assignment, some running and dodging might be required of her.

She found her comb and wished she had packed a small mirror too. Nelle’s sense of practicality had her take only the most essential of things with her, and her usual rigorous morning routine included too many articles that weren’t, strictly speaking, necessary. But personal grooming was important to her and going through the familiar motions might have offered her some comfort now. She had to settle with making sure at least that her hair was presentable.

Nelle didn’t care about looking pretty, but she cared about looking nice. Clean. Proper. It didn’t matter to her if it was the capital, or an isolated shack lost in the mountain tops where no one would see her; standards had to me maintained, always. She finished combing with fast, precise strokes, hoping it looked decent, and put on a simple, black headband, the same kind she’d been wearing since her uniform days at Lady Laracresia’s School for Daughters.

She had left the hardest part for last. Slowly and carefully, she peeled off her socks and winced a little at the sight of her marred skin. It was either scrapped or had blisters, and all of it hurt. Running might be out of the question after all. She’d have to buy new boots as well, the tight leather ones she had specially procured for this trip proving inadequate. She put on two pairs of socks, and pulled on the boots, all the while hissing and trying not to curse. Standing up was painful. Walking all day will be agonizing, she thought miserably.

‘That’s enough of that, young lady!’

There was nothing that annoyed Nelle more than feeling sorry for herself. She had always believed that the key to getting through anything was mental fortitude and hers had never failed her before. When she accepted a job, she committed herself fully to it.

She looked at the tiny briefcase that had been given to her by the instructor and wondered if she should take the entire thing with her today. Wondered if it would make Luric even less agreeable if he saw her carrying it around, what message it would send. ‘I don't trust you’, most likely. She wished she had asked how other supervisors handled this; she had only been told what each object did and was used for.

She opened it, looked at its contents, and removed one single piece from the plethora of strange and unfamiliar articles, and placed it inside her pocket. Out of everything from the briefcase, this was probably the one that Luric liked the least, but as long as he didn't give her a reason to use it,he wouldn't even know she had it with her. Plus, after his little slip-up on the train, she thought it was only fair that she kept something close that made her feel safe.

Resolutely, she headed downstairs to start her first day in Runrick.

She found Luric sitting alone at one of the trestle tables next to the window. In his hands was an elegant-looking velvet-covered book, and he appeared to be completely absorbed in it. Nelle wasn’t fooled though. She was certain he was fully aware of her presence, had probably sensed her coming long before she stepped into view. Not once did he lift his gaze to look at her as she approached and took a seat opposite of him. Manners dictated that she offer some sort of greeting, but his silence was so ostentatious that it made her wonder if she should even bother. She didn’t know how to interpret his aloofness.

When she had first met him, he had seemed like the talkative type- brazen, if not a little arrogant; at least, when speaking to Lord Ashladd. He had ignored her for most of that meeting. Nelle had met Blighted before, and they had all been quiet, withdrawn, and above all, obedient. She had never believed that it was a natural, common trait in a blighted person, but an instilled disposition to appear as nonthreatening as possible when around normal people. It was a good tactic, she always thought. It wasn’t easy being near one, let alone have your life depend on them, when you knew what they were capable of. When you knew what they really were. It was with that conviction that she had agreed to assist with this mission, since no official supervisor had come forth to accept it. Watching Luric boldly throw his weight around in the Chief Supervisor’s office had made her question that decision, though. Nelle had feared that they wouldn’t be compatible at all, but she wouldn’t be the one to back out.

They had exchanged only a few words that day, and as far as she could remember, she had been curt but polite, as she tended to be around strangers, but apparently, that had been enough for Luric to form his opinion of her. She could tell it wasn’t a very flattering one.

It didn’t bother Nelle that he didn’t like her. She was used to crude remarks and hostile attitudes, especially from young men that saw her apathy as either a challenge or an insult. Luric wasn’t anywhere near the worst she had ever encountered. For one, he steered clear of anything that could be interpreted as indecent or chauvinistic, which was more than she could say about many of her colleagues. But he was coarse, impertinent, and not at all inclined to be amicable. Which was fine by her; she had no intention of becoming his friend. In fact, she preferred distance when it came to work. And it would make observing and forming objective opinions easier. But she did think they should at least maintain a professional relationship while they were here, for the sake of their assignment. Especially now that it had gotten significantly more difficult than the initial briefing had led them to believe.

“Good mor-”

“Ah, you’re up, m’lady!”

The innkeeper’s wife burst into the hall with far more exuberance than anyone should be allowed to have this early in the morning. Before Nelle could reply, the woman ran back into the kitchen yelling, “Let me go get ya somethin’ to eat.” She came back holding a wooden trencher that she placed in front of Nelle. On it was a slab of what looked like porridge with a few slices of salted meat on the side.

She hadn’t eaten anything since the train ride, but even going on a whole day without food didn’t make the gruel look anymore appetizing. Nelle wasn’t a picky eater, not at all. She didn’t care much about food in general. To her, it was just nutrition and nothing more. Even so, she eyed the food before her with concern, as her mind was trying to come up with ways of refusing without offending.

“Thank you,” was all she could bring herself to say.

The innkeeper’s wife - she should ask about her name - looked at her expectantly. Was she waiting for her to taste it? But the cutlery was missing. Or did people here eat with their bare hands? She hadn’t washed them!

“Um, if it’s not too much - ”

“Oh, right. I forgot the wine!”

Wine? In the morning? That, she had to refuse! “Actually, could I have some tea?”

The woman threw her an odd look, and then, a little bashfully, replied “We don’ have anythin’that fancy here, m’lady.”

“Just boil her some water and throw in a few mint leaves.”

Both women looked at Luric. He still hadn’t taken his eyes out of the book and didn’t seem inclined to converse with them any more than that.

“Mint brew? But she isn’t sick. Are you, m’lady?”

Nelle saw an opportunity and took it. “I’m afraid I’m not quite used to the cold yet and the long journey has left my stomach a little upset.”

Still, the woman was not so easily deterred. “We got somethin’ better than borin’ old leaf soup. Our own home-made plum brandy. Best in Runrick. A few drops o’ that will cure anyone of anythin’. It’ll knock ya socks right off.”

‘In these temperatures, I’d like for my socks to stay on, thank you very much,’ she thought miserably. “Maybe some other time, ma'am.”

She swore the woman looked a little disheartened, but nodded quietly and disappeared into the kitchen.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Now that she was alone with Luric again, the temptation to breach the silence nagged at her even more. Inquiring more details about the meeting from last night seemed like a reasonable subject for breaking this newly formed layer of ice. He had been suspiciously brief about how their arrival had been received by the town’s people when he came back, but she had been too tired to argue with him. “It went well,” was all he had said, oddly cheerful, but it had been that self-satisfied smile that worried her the most.

Ever since they arrived at the inn, Luric had been acting strange. True, it wasn’t like she really knew him, and despite his enacted casualness, he was just as unforthcoming when it came to his personal life as Nelle was about hers. She shouldn’t make suppositions about his behavior when she didn’t understand him that well to begin with. Still, Nelle couldn’t help but feel that there had been something off, like a small idiosyncrasy in her perceived tenure of him. He didn’t strike her as a kind person, but even so, he seemed just a little too insensitive to his people’s plight. Or rather…if she had more confidence in her ability to read the subtleties in other people’s nature,she would’ve even dared to say that he seemed a little delighted.

As far as she had been told, this was the first time he had seen his town ever since he had left it over ten years ago. Yet he appeared completely unmoved by his homecoming. This was odd, because Nelle could have sworn he had seemed eager to pay it a visit back at the Institute. There was something going on that he wasn’t telling her, but she wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with their mission. If it was personal, and chances are that it was, then she had no right to demand he share it with her. But then that wouldn’t explain his current bout of standoffishness.

At the very least, she needed to know where the two of them stood.

Before she could start with her second attempt at a conversation, the woman came back out,holding a tin cup with what Nelle hoped was mint brew. She placed it gingerly in front of Nelle, and then just stood there smiling. It occurred to Nelle that she was expecting some sort of acclaim for her food. Which meant she had to taste it while the woman was there. She hadn’t planned on touching any of it, maybe stuff it somewhere so she could throw it away later when no one was looking, but she was now trapped under the expectant gaze of the cook. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful, or worse yet, stuffy. She had to stay with these people for the next couple of days, after all.

Reluctantly, she picked up a slice of hardened meat and scooped up a bit of the porridge with the other end, and bit into it. It was salty; that was the only taste she could identify among the unpleasantly contrasting textures of chewy rubber and mush. She swallowed, with some difficulty, and then turned to the woman to offer a polite smile. “Thank you, it is very good,” and then quickly took a sip, the hot water scorching her throat. She hoped it would clean away and dissolve the food she had just ingested as well. Nelle could hear Luric snicker, and briefly considered throwing the rest of her drink in his face. “Glad t’hear that, m’lady!” To Nelle’s horror, the woman still didn’t leave. Was she supposed to eat the whole thing while she was watching? Her stomach started churning in protest.

“I just wanted to say, m’lady, your hair is very nice. Do all women wear it like that in the city?” The sudden change in subject took Nelle by surprise and it took her moment to formulate her answer.

“Umm, no….”

“Only men cut their hair ‘round here. Well, we only have one barber, ol’ Ceric, and he only lets the men in his shop. They even go there when they don’ need a cut, just so they can be among themselves with no woman’s ear close by. Sometimes they even drink there instead o’ here, prolly 'cuz o’ me. Hah! Lica - that’s Matchet’s girl - once wanted to have her hair cut like in one o’ the pictures with city ladies she seen. All fancy-like. Ceric, that bitter owl, threw her out of his shop. Think he even slapped her in the street. Said girls have no business cuttin’ their hair short and it’s an insult to the Great Mother to want to look different from her. Slatrim then even went and made it law to keep it long. Said city women were all loose and dox- oh, um, I didn’t mean to say - that is - uh, UH - “

Thinking she had inadvertently offended Nelle, the poor woman turned beet red with embarrassment and anxiety, eyes going large and suspiciously watery. Nelle intervened before the water works could start. “It’s alright, ma’am. I understand.”

The woman’s hands fluttered to her chest and she sighed in relief. As she did that, something caught Nelle’s eye. She had a large bracelet hanging from her wrist, made out of big, round and shiny beads, each in a different bright color. A bit on the gaudy side, even tethering on childish. But the way she had been animatedly gesticulating made it clear that the woman had meant to draw attention to it. Her eyes then went from her wrist to the chest it was placed on. She was wearing a black vest with a simple embroidery of flowers sewn in blue and green threads. It wasn’t an overly intricate design, but it still seemed a lot more fashionable than what she assumed people wore around these parts. And the vest seemed either very new or very rarely worn. Underneath was a loose, white blouse with the edges of it’s sleeves only slightly ripped. Her skirt was simple, made out of thick, brown wool, but it appeared to be in the same mint condition as her vest. She was dressed up, or the equivalent of what dressed up meant around here. Was Nelle supposed to say something about that as well? That could be inferred based on the woman’s previous comments about hair styles. Fashion. If there was ever a matter Nelle was less qualified to tackle. The woman apparently thought that she was in tune with the trends and style of high society simply because she lived close to it. Or did she think she was one of them, because she came from the capital? Nelle realized then, the woman had brought out her best clothes to impress her. Well, in that case-

“You look very nice.”

Nelle actually had no idea how the woman 'looked', but seeing her eyes light up in delight, cheeks tinted pink at the appraisal, made Nelle feel less guilty about the lie. Maybe this meant she could turn down the rest of the food without the fear of offending her.

“Oh, these ol’ things,” she answered with overtly fake modesty. “Thought I’d wear somethin’ more presentable since we have such nice guests now. We don’t really have any bankets no more.”

Bankets? Oh, she means-

“She means banquets.”

Nelle shot Luric a disapproving look, but to no avail; his eyes were still fixed on his damned book. But there was an amused grin on his lips, as if he found their little exchange secretly entertaining. Guess his book wasn’t that good then, if he was paying that much attention to theiconversation.

The woman flushed red with embarrassment again, and she lowered her eyes to the ground like a child being chastised. Nelle wanted to quickly say something reassuring, but if there was something she was even less skilled at than talking about fashion, it was comforting someone.

“Please don’t mind it, madam. We all make mistakes, and this is a small one.”

“Pretty sure your teachers would have whipped your palm raw had they ever heard you say bankets.”

Forget disapproving, she was aiming for withering now. But he still wasn’t looking at her. He continued, “And no, Runrick doesn’t have banquets. Or fairs, or parades, or anything that might be deemed even remotely fun.”

At that the woman raised her head, but kept her eyes solely on Nelle. “We have festivals! We have dances too. During late spring and summer.” And then she turned to look at Luric, and there was a little fire in her eyes. She braced herself, and for the first time, addressed Luric, “You should remember.” The woman inhaled loudly, like she had surprised herself as well with that last statement, but bravely kept eyes on Luric and waited for his rebuttal.

Luric’s smug smile disappeared instantly. His face was now impassive, with absolutely no outward sign of annoyance or anger whatsoever; and he was still only looking at his book. But this calmness was deceptive, she could tell. Like the stillness of a predator right before it was about to strike. And strike he did. “Oh, but I do. And there’s a lot more than that to remember, wouldn’t you say?” He then threw the innkeeper wife a side-glance, a very pointed one. The woman went rigid, and whatever courage she had gathered to stand up to Luric shriveled under his sharp gaze.

She fidgeted some more and spoke in a meager voice, “I was just tryn’ to -”

“We understand full well what you were trying to do, and let me assure you it’s not working. Soyou can put away your banket clothes, you’re not impressing anyone.”

“Luric!”

He still didn’t look at Nelle, and his eyes glided back to his book even as he was addressing her. “I don’t have the patience to deal with fawners, especially of the illiterate kind.”

“She wasn’t speaking to you.”

No sooner had she uttered the weak retort than she regretted it. The smile that bloomed on his Luric’s face this time was one of satisfaction, and Nelle realized she had fallen into his trap. “Soyou don’t deny it then. That she’s a fawner.”

It was anger that she felt first, and so she hurried to say something to the woman before embarrassment set in. She had a tendency to trip over her own tongue when embarrassed. But the woman’s eyes were downcast again, and obviously on the brink of tears. With her hands clenching and unclenching nervously at her sides, the woman muttered in a trembling voice, “I- I apologize for-I’ll leave ya to ya breakfast,”, and then left hastily, struggling to keep her sobs back until she was out of the room.

Nelle watcher her go and tried to bring herself to say something right until the woman disappeared into the kitchen. She couldn’t come up with something that would sound genuine enough to be worth saying out loud. She really was bad at this. Irritation, though, that was something she was well acquainted with. She turned back to Luric with the full intent of letting him know what she thought of his little act of contemptuousness. Nobody should be allowed to treat another person like that.

Nelle opened her mouth to speak, but then paused. Took a good look at him. He had gone back to reading; his face calm, posture relaxed. She thought at first that he was ignoring her again, but that didn’t seem quite right. More like, he wanted her to think that he was ignoring her.

It was all too showily.

He was leaning on his left side, arm braced on the window sill, with his hand held against his head. But the palm was barely touching his face, as if to keep the pressure from smooshing his features. His fingers were so delicately curled around his temple and cheek, making it evident that the brace was illustrative rather than necessary. The very image of the cultivated, contemplative gentleman.

She continued her examination of him. His clothes were far too thin for this weather, but maybe he didn’t feel the cold as astutely as a normal human. However, they were also unnecessarily stylish for this place and the work that was required of them. She had noticed from the start that he liked to dress to the teeth, but today he had taken it up a notch. He was wearing a tight brocade waistcoat, with rich black and purple tapestry. His shirt was of shiny white silk. His ascot tie was a deep black infused with a fine pattern of silvery thread work; it made the glinting blood-red gemstone of his tie pin stand out even more. His cufflinks matched it. She was certain now that the book was just another accessory meant to complete his ensemble.

And it was all…a little bit too much.

She thought of the woman, of why she wore her neat vest and colorful bracelet, made an assumption, and risked a jab. “Speaking of dressy clothes,” she started casually, “who are you trying to impress?”

The urgent way his eyes shot up proved that she had hit a nerve. Maybe a little to well, what with the way his glare held a cold intensity that would have taken a lesser person aback. She had expected it though, and met his gaze unflinchingly. There was an ounce of shame as Nelle admitted to herself that she took pleasure in putting him on the spot like this. It was petty, and therefore unbecoming, but she could still hear the faint sobs coming from the other room and it helped convince her that he had deserved it. And it was, in part, a genuine inquiry. She was certain there was a point to his affectation, just like it had been with the innkeeper’s wife. Whether she had any right to know, was another issue.

Luric threw a quick glance in the direction of the kitchen, and Nelle noticed how he looked slightly worried as he did so. He probably also didn’t mean for her to notice how he lowered his voice too when he spoke now, but she did anyway. She couldn’t help but think it was better that she made that comment while no one else was around.

“Excuse me?” he said indignantly.

“You just seem awfully spruced up considering the task at hand.”

With eyes slightly narrowed. “And what exactly do you know regarding how I go about fulfilling my tasks?”

“Obviously not much,” Nelle answered flippantly and then gestured towards his appearance, “I had no idea you were supposed to take the thing ballroom dancing too.”

Nelle knew she should stop with the quips; she wasn’t good at being witty, while Luric seemed to be well versed in it. This could all end very badly for her.

No snide remarks followed, but instead his tone took an edge that reminded Nelle it wasn’t in her best interest to continue pocking at something that could grow claws and fangs at will. “We’re meeting with the magistrate and the town council after this. I can’t just go wandering aimlessly up and down these hills hoping to pick up the creepers scent. I need more information about its appearance and whereabouts, and they can provide that. Is it wrong that I’d want to look my best when standing in front of my home town’s highest officials?” he then snapped his book shut and slammed it against the table with more force than necessary to signal the end of their conversation.

He was lying. It was more than clear now that he had nothing but contempt for this place and it’speople. Showing his betters respect was probably the furthest thing from his mind when had donned these expensive clothes.

Luric apparently was done with the facade, now that it’s artificiality had been called out. He was looking out of the window, and she would’ve likened him to a sulking adolescent had it not been for the grim lines that had set around his eyes and mouth. He was holding back a sneer.

Quietly, Nelle went back to her food. She could manage another couple of bites. She’d take the rest with her and dump it somewhere, so the innkeeper wife wouldn’t think they didn’t like her food too.

As she was trying to keep her mind distracted from what her mouth was chewing, she reached the following conclusions. If his cold demeanor had nothing to do with her before, it had now. But there was more going on here than Luric was letting on. And it was very, very personal.