Errant, p.26
Errant, page 26
Aspen had already eaten. Packing their bags didn’t distract her from her nerves. She rolled her clothes and tucked them into her saddlebag with practiced hands. There was nothing to keep her from darting glances at Charm.
Charm layered eggs and bacon on top of her bread and then opened her mouth wide to take a bite. It was simple, hearty fare, but Charm fluttered her eyelashes and chewed thoughtfully as if she was at a nobleman’s banquet. She found pleasure wherever she could.
Before she could be caught out, Aspen dropped her gaze back to her saddlebag. It did her no good to think about the shape of Charm’s hips under the blanket or to wonder what else could make her look so sleepy and pleased while in bed.
“The air feels like rain, and this close to winter, it might be sleet, so we should leave soon. I spoke with the innkeeper, and she said there’s another tavern in easy distance, but there’s also one we can make if we push our pace. We’ll aim for the more distant one, but we can reevaluate when we reach the first.”
Charm unknotted her scarf and fluffed her curls, but her fingers caught in the thick locks. It reminded Aspen of the enclave, when Charm allowed her to comb out her hair. It had been surprisingly intimate, a soft moment between them that Aspen wanted to recreate, but she was too shy to ask. Maybe if they were trapped indoors for an entire day, she would find the courage.
A long bath would be a good way to spend a rainy morning. Maybe Charm would even sing.
Speaking of singing— “The innkeeper said you were quite good,” Aspen said. She set Charm’s saddlebag on the bed, within easy reach. “They have a lot of folks come through who want to perform, and she said she wasn’t impressed with most of them.”
“You’re chatty this morning,” Charm said.
Chastised, Aspen went back to fiddling with her own bag. There wasn’t anything left for her to do. She could also retreat to the stables and prep the horses.
“It wasn’t a censure,” Charm said. She yawned widely and half-covered it with her hand. “I like listening to you talk. It’s just surprising.”
Aspen shrugged. She and the innkeeper had spoken between Aspen’s bites of breakfast and the other woman taking orders. It would embarrass her to admit how much of the conversation had been about Charm.
The innkeeper, built solid and strong like Aspen, had been envious of Charm’s curves and elaborate dresses. They’d taken a moment to compare biceps after that, Aspen’s muscles honed from bladework and the innkeeper’s from daily manual labor.
“You made an impression,” Aspen finally said. When Charm finished her breakfast, Aspen volunteered to bring the tray down and ready the horses. The only thing left for Charm to do was dress, and Aspen didn’t need the temptation.
Their fingers brushed when Charm handed her the tray, and she looked Aspen over, intent clear in her gaze. Aspen even wanted to say yes or maybe forgo words and lean in to press a kiss to Charm’s lips.
Dawdling downstairs hadn’t cleared her head at all.
Now wasn’t the time. If she kissed Charm while Charm was kneeling on the edge of a bed, they wouldn’t leave the room anytime soon. No, it was best to wait until they didn’t have anywhere to be.
Maybe tonight.
Aspen backed through the door so she could gaze at Charm a moment longer and then she hurried down the stairs. She left the tray on the counter alongside a few others and then went to the stable.
Mouse and Ruby each greeted her with a whicker. When she approached their stalls, they crowded the door to rub their faces against her shoulder.
“I’m glad to see you as well,” she told them. They each received a pat to the flank and then a long brush.
Normally, she kept the grooming to the evenings, after a long day of travel, but she knew she had time before Charm made her way down. It was a good moment to think—and to be honest with herself.
Aspen had been attracted to Charm since the first time she’d seen her perform, but that had been simple and physical. Now she knew Charm was more than a coy pickpocket. Buried under the multitude of personalities and roles Charm could play was a woman named Liazna who was kinder and softer than she wanted anyone to know. Glimpses of that woman had transformed Aspen’s attraction into admiration and tenderness and perhaps something she wasn’t yet ready to name.
At this point, she was almost certain that if she did kiss Charm, Charm would not only kiss her back in the moment, but she would allow Aspen to kiss her again later. Many people in the world could be content with one fantastic night or a single furtive rendezvous with a stranger, but Aspen couldn’t let her guard down unless she knew the person.
She didn’t expect or demand a second encounter, but she wanted to know it was a possibility. It would hurt to kiss Charm and then never see her again. But any whiff of commitment would undoubtedly scare the woman off. Aspen could be casual.
“I could be casual,” she told Mouse as she set the curry brush aside. “Do a few jobs, see a performance, spend the night, and then be on my way again.”
Mouse and Ruby both gave her a side-eye.
“I could,” Aspen insisted. She might not particularly like it, but she could do something casual. Or maybe any relationship with Charm was doomed from the start. It was a story good for songs, but Aspen wasn’t looking for lyrical inspiration.
“Are you talking to the horses again?” Charm sauntered into the stable, dressed in the snug breeches and loose blouse she wore for riding. Aspen allowed herself a moment to imagine Charm’s legs wrapped around her waist, and then she cleared her throat.
“As you said, I’m chatty this morning.”
“I bet as soon as we’re on the road you clam up.” Charm had braided her hair and as Aspen saddled the horses, she wound the long braid about the top of her head and pinned it in place. “Do you know the origin of that phrase? Clams are a funny creature.”
“They taste good,” Aspen said. “Have you spent much time on the coast?”
“Some.”
They talk about their travels for the first stretch of the day’s journey. Being part of the Harstead Players meant Charm had wandered through most of Falland, not only the forest and the mountains but the coasts as well. Aspen, who grew up in the forest and then lived for many years in Harstead, hadn’t traveled at all until joining the Scale.
Aspen talked about digging up clams with the local Sea children, chasing the bubbles in the sand and giggling as they dug for their bounty. She told Charm about long trenches dug in the sand so they could build a fire and have a cookout for the entire village. In turn, Charm told her about seaweed salad and learning the songs the coastal people were known for.
She sang a few of them. Sea songs were noted for the powerful, repetitive chorus, like a wave breaking on the beach and then slowly drawing back. Charm even coaxed Aspen into joining in.
It was easy to put in a long day when their conversation flowed easily. The sun was setting when they arrived at their destination, and Aspen was glad they didn’t have to travel in the dark. She stayed to settle the horses while Charm went to see about a room for the night.
“You have good timing,” the young stable attendant said as they came over to see Mouse and Ruby. “My mom says a storm is coming.”
“I can feel it,” Aspen said. “Do you like storms?”
“I do but the horses don’t. Some of ‘em, anyway. I tell them stories to help keep them calm.”
Aspen smiled as she gestured to Mouse. “This is my horse, Mouse. She’s a good girl and won’t give you any trouble.” She patted Mouse’s head as the introduction was made.
The stable attendant nodded and then cast a suspicious glance at Ruby. “That mean this one is trouble?”
“She is but she won’t give you any.” Aspen stared down Ruby to remind her who was in charge. “If she does, me or Mouse will put her in her place.”
Mouse perked up at being given permission to bite, which meant Aspen had to remind her biting was permitted under very specific circumstances only.
The stable attendant giggled as Aspen gave her lecture. “Are you horse folk or Wood folk? Because my mom says there are people who can talk to animals and then there are those who are just real good with them.”
“Mouse and I have been through a lot together,” Aspen said. “I’m Aspen, by the way. She.”
“I’m Poise. She.” The girl wore her hair in two braids. There were bits of straw sticking out of them, but she didn’t seem to notice or mind. “The butcher’s boy calls me poison, because he’s mean. You shouldn’t buy from him.”
“I won’t,” Aspen promised. “I don’t eat much meat.”
The girl gasped and jumped a little on her toes. “You are one of them Wood folk! Deference, that’s the butcher’s boy, he says people who don’t eat meat are weak. My mom said so too. She said I have to eat everything on my plate or I won’t grow up strong, but you’re really strong. Will you fight Deference?”
“I don’t like to fight,” Aspen said. “And I don’t fight children.”
“Deference says he’s a man.” Poise rolled her eyes. “He only says that because he wants Courtesy to kiss him. She’s eighteen. She was the Harvest Goddess at this year’s festival. She had the most beautiful flower crown. But I think crowns are stupid.” Poise kicked at some loose straw and then gauged Aspen’s reaction.
To crowns? To kissing? Aspen wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be reacting to or how. She liked it better when they were talking about horses.
“Your friend is real pretty,” Poise said. “I bet Deference tries to kiss her. If he does, will you fight him then?”
“I don’t fight children,” Aspen reminded her.
“What about Deference’s dad? My mom says he’s a hound dog. Do you know what that means? He tries to stick his—”
“Poise! Poise, where are you girl?” A raspy, low voice called from the other side of the stable, interrupting whatever Poise was going to say.
“We got a customer, Dad!” Poise shouted back, loudly enough to make Aspen wince. “I’m being polite!”
An older man with a limp emerged from a small room. He squinted, either because of the dim lighting or the distance, and then settled for a wave. “Is she bothering you, Honored Guest?”
“It’s just Aspen,” Aspen said. “And no, she’s been quite welcoming. I wanted to get the horses settled before I went inside.”
“You should hurry up, I heard there’s going to be singing tonight. And between you and me, her voice could be horseshit as long as she looks beautiful while she sings.”
Poise tugged on Aspen’s shirt sleeve. “Don’t fight him, he doesn’t mean anything bad. My mom says he has to talk to make up for things not working anymore, you know?”
“Huh?” the man shouted. “Poise, did you say something?”
“Nothing!” Poise called back. She winked at Aspen and then scurried off to where the satchels of oats were stored.
Aspen nodded to herself, grabbed both saddlebags, and headed inside before she was pulled into any more conversations.
While Aspen took the horses to the stables, Charm settled into yet another tavern room, admiring herself in the handheld looking glass in preparation for her show tonight. She’d told the innkeeper what Aspen looked like—tall, broad, muscles for days, completely unaware of her own allure—and hoped it would be enough for him to send Aspen to the right room.
Perhaps they might even get to put their room to the right use for once.
There wasn’t time for a proper bath, so Charm made do with a basin of water and a few cloths. She scrubbed her skin clean and then lightly applied her favorite perfume and lotion, frowning at the rough patches on her hands. Adventures with Aspen were terrible for her skincare routine.
Not that it mattered. Perfume and smooth skin hadn’t tempted Aspen into her bed before.
But what would? Aspen was interested. Her gaze lingered on Charm’s curves and she stumbled over her words when Charm complimented her.
She’d brushed the sap out of Charm’s hair in Two Crooked Pines with such care, and Charm had shared one of her most guarded secrets, and then Aspen had slept on the floor. By all rights, it should be Charm who wasn’t interested—she didn’t like complications with her bed partners.
The more emotionally intimate she was with someone, the less she wanted to be physically intimate with them. Too much connection made it harder when they inevitably had to separate. Timing would be of the utmost importance with Aspen, who needed emotional intimacy before she’d allow herself to be physical.
Even if they traveled slowly, mere days remained before they parted for the winter. They had to fix this. Charm was developing an obsession. She refused to spend an entire season in agony, imagining what Aspen would be like in bed.
She pulled her hair back to apply her makeup and allowed herself a brief moment of indulgence. Aspen was strong—marvelously, devastatingly strong—but she was overly careful of her strength. Would she show the same restraint in bed? Would she push Charm up against the wall and pin her in place as she kissed her? Or would she let Charm push her around instead?
Charm shuddered as pleasure rippled down her spine. Both options were equally good.
An expert dab of makeup to highlight cheeks and lips, a twist of her hair into a low bun at the nape of her neck, a dark green dress embroidered with branches and berries, and then she was finished. If the dress had a Wood inspiration to it—well, Charm knew the audience she was truly performing for.
Someone knocked lightly at the door.
“Come in,” Charm called.
Aspen stepped through. She glanced at Charm, set her bag on the floor, and then looked at Charm again. As soon as she realized she was staring, a lovely blush crept up her cheeks.
“You look nice,” Aspen said.
From anyone else, that would border on an insult, but Charm was used to Aspen now. Any admission at all was a triumph. Charm couldn’t help but shift her arms to press her breasts together. Aspen’s gaze dipped down.
No, Aspen wasn’t uninterested. She was stubborn.
Charm rose from her chair. “You’ll be down once you freshen up?”
A furrow formed between Aspen’s brows. She hadn’t planned to change her riding clothes, worn from hard use and caked with dust. Charm shook her head, crouched, and rooted through Aspen’s bag until she found a spare shirt and trousers that weren’t quite as encrusted.
“You already have admirers,” Aspen said, accepting the bundle of clothes.
“First impressions are important,” Charm said. “And admirers are good. We might even make a profit on our trip back to Harstead. If we do, I have my eye on a new lip paint. It’s a deep red, almost purple. What are you saving up for?”
“Oh.” Aspen contemplated the simple question for far too long. “I have everything I need.”
“You’re allowed to want things, even things you don’t need,” Charm said. It was perhaps too direct; Aspen dropped her head and then shuffled over to the corner to change.
Charm resolved to try again later. For now, an audience awaited. She took her guitar and a velvet lined box for her tips and went down to the main room. A chair and a small table with a cup of lemon water on top had been set aside for her. She took a sip before she arranged herself.
The room was fairly empty. It was apparently too early for the dinner crowd, but Charm strummed her guitar and crooned a slow song to warm up.
After her second song, a patron made a request, and he dropped a coin in her box as she started to play the tune on her guitar. Her voice joined a moment later. As more people trickled in, so did more requests.
Aspen entered. She picked a table with clear sightlines to the door and a clear path to Charm. Her concern was touching. If Charm hadn’t already been on a few adventures with her, she’d think it was paranoia, but Aspen attracted trouble. Her vigilance was warranted.
“Excuse me?” A young person with straw in their braids stepped forward. “Do you know ‘Dexterity’s Stomp’?”
A few older patrons groaned. “Dexterity’s Stomp” was a children’s song, one with a catchy chorus and an accompanying dance. It wasn’t the usual tavern request, and Charm let a moment pass in case the youth’s guardian came to claim them.
Instead, Charm’s young patron noted the box for tips. They pulled an apple out of their pocket and set it in the box. “That’s all I’ve got.”
“And what’s your name, that I might thank you properly?” Charm asked, touched by the gesture.
“Poise. She.”
“Thank you, Poise.” Charm looked from her soft slippers to the girl’s sturdy boots. “I can play the song, but I’ll need your help on the stomping.”
“Oh, I’m real good at it,” the girl said.
True to her word, Poise knew all the clapping, jumping, steps, and turns to “Dexterity’s Stomp,” even as they grew more complicated as the song picked up speed.
As Charm sang faster, the other dancers dropped out until it was only Poise and a youth a bit older than her still dancing. The youth had pudgy cheeks and something red-brown smudged on their forehead and fingers.
Charm started the next verse, knowing she could only do one or two more before she lost her breath. Fortunately, the youth clapped when they should have stomped, and Poise loudly proclaimed her victory.
“I hope this is a worthy prize for such a competitor,” Charm said. She held the apple out to Poise.
“I did dance the best.” She snatched it out of Charm’s hand and paused to gloat in front of her competitor. “I beat you, Deference, and the pretty lady gave me an apple.” She wrinkled her nose. “You got blood on your face. You should wash up.”
In her trek across the room, Poise’s final destination was Aspen’s table. Of course Aspen would befriend a mouthy little kid. Aspen took out a knife to cut up the apple. Charm smiled and turned her attention back to her audience.
