Sorem turned and galloped back down the road, expecting to find the man still fighting his mule, but the hunchback was gone.

The Jvalan rotated in her cage. “He’s in the forest. In the field, but—”

Sorem gave a shout, and the horse took off.

“But, I must warn you something about this hunchback,” the Jvalan called.

Unlikely. She was a prisoner and while she could not lie, she could give half-truths. Sorem found that out the hard way on several occasions.

The trees of the forest weren’t plentiful, in fact, an open field rested in the distance. If not for spying the donkey anchored in place by its lead, Sorem might have overtaken his planned hunt.

With one swing of his leg over the horse, Sorem slipped from the beast. The robes of his uniform fell to cover his trousers and boots.

If the donkey was here, the hunchback wasn’t far.

Sorem ventured into the forest, his hand on his sword. The brush grew thicker and thicker. Finally, he spotted the little man hiding behind a tree.

His behavior was strange to be sure. Sorem decided to keep his distance, but he wanted to see what captivated the hunchback so. That was why he chose the strongest tree close to him and made his way up. When he was high enough, he saw her. There was a waterfall that emptied into a lagoon. And inside it, a woman, pale skin and black hair, bathed in the water. But that wasn’t all, unbeknownst to the poor woman, the hunchback wasn’t the only one watching her. Two golden fairies, flying hand in hand, zipped around.

“Sir,” the Jvalan called in a whisper. “Sir!”

But Sorem ignored her. The woman was beautiful. She dove into the water once more and surfaced. When she emerged, her naked breasts made Sorem’s breath catch.

He wasn’t one for these carnal thoughts—not lately. His body swayed; he felt light.

And then the branch holding him broke and he tumbled to the ground. He jumped up, prepared to battle now that his presence was likely known.

To his surprise, the hunchback no longer inhabited his hiding spot by the tree some distance away. Wherever he was, Sorem wouldn’t know.

Everything in him said to find the little cretin—he needed him in order to accomplish his mission, but instead, he made his way to the tree behind which the hunchback had been hidden, and got a better view.

This was no woman—she was nothing short of a goddess.

She swam happily in the water, not a care in the world. Each time she turned and dove inside, Sorem’s breath hitched. He wanted to watch her longer, memorize every part of her, but the two fairies that circled her were a bigger concern.

“Is she aligned with the Fae?” Sorem asked in a whisper.

“Only those touched by magic can see fairies under the right conditions. Does she speak to the fairies?”

She did not.

Finally, she pulled herself up from the water and leaned over to wring out her hair.

Her body was perfect. From this angle, he could see her from behind, but she only bent her back when retrieving her clothes, giving him a vivid view.

Sorem warmed with a blush, but he felt sorry for her. This area was well hidden. But in her effort to enjoy the waters before the sun shined hot in the afternoon, she’d left herself unguarded. He could guess from the way she dried off that she felt comfortable here.

That awful hunchback.

He sighed to himself. Once again, a woman in need of rescue.

And that was just what he’d intended to give so he scanned the tree-line, looking for any signs of the cretin. No hunchback. And when Sorem looked at the lagoon, he was surprised to find the woman gone.

He wanted to give chase but surely she’d misunderstand.

“The hunchback—”

“Forget the hunchback,” Sorem said, hurrying back to his horse. “We will rest at the inn then come back in the morning.”

“But don’t you need the hunchback?”

Didn’t he? Surely the hunchback could wait one day. Besides, he wanted to make absolutely sure that little bastard deserved the blade he’d find lodged in him should he be here tomorrow as Sorem suspected.

The village close by was strange—everyone eyed him as he entered the town. With only one inn at his disposal, finding lodging came easy enough.

“How long you staying?” the innkeeper, a handsome woman with long auburn hair, asked.

“We’ll take it one day at a time.”

On his hip, the Jvalan complained, “I do not think it wise to stay here.”

Sorem clenched his jaw to keep from answering her with a curse. Only those in direct possession of the Jvalan could see it. That had been the trick to its capture.

Although Sorem wanted to scold it for giving him useless information he hadn’t asked for, he had no way of doing so.

From the hall, a big man with long red hair thundered toward them. He gave off a jovial laugh in greeting. “Ah, welcome. Be sure to have a drink and make yourself comfortable.”

The kiss he gave his wife was gentle, a great contrast to his burly persona.

“She’s here. Been crying all morning,” the innkeeper whispered to her husband.

“Oh?” He let out a sigh and stepped past. “I’ll see to it. She’s not leaving. That’s already decided.”

Sorem wasn’t one for the drink—he kept himself clear of all temptations—but he needed information, so after seeing his room, he ventured into the tavern on the ground floor of the inn.

And there she was.

In a sea of dark clothes, filthy people, and rotten teeth, that black hair and pale skin, donning a white dress which opened at the back, stood prominent.

Sorem lost all feeling.

He didn’t understand his reaction to this woman—it was just a woman after all.

Instead of at a table, she sat at the bar, forearms on the counter, face buried there.

“Vadde, sit up,” the barkeeper instructed after his approach. “What’s this nonsense about you wanting to leave? You’re not allowed to leave. You know this much. I certainly wouldn’t let you.”

She made no motion to comply to his request. His wife carried a plate of food to them then whispered to her husband and walked away.

Sorem meant to sit at a table, but his feet carried him to the bar. Before he knew it, he sat two chairs over.

He was listening without listening but that was suspicious, so he ordered a drink to cover his tracks.

With that order filled, the barkeeper turned his attention to Vadde yet again.

“Did you two fight? You know how he is. Sit up and get some food. Come.”

Yet another man approached. He looked similar enough to the barkeeper.

“What’s this? She says she wants to go?” he asked, nudging Vadde who didn’t respond. “You won’t get far without one of us snatching you back,” he teased.

A woman came next, patting her shoulder as she said, “We love you too much to let you leave. Out there’s dangerous. Isn’t it, love?”

After letting out a long sniff, Vadde sat up, hands at her face. She’d been crying, that much was clear.

So many people patted her back and head before walking away.

She pulled the food close, and the barkeep rested his forearm on the counter and dipped lower to peer up at her.

“It’s okay to feel like you do. But it’s just not our way to let our women go, least not alone. So don’t be mad at him for it. It’s a rule even I can’t break.”

He waited and when she gave a bitter nod, he patted her cheek and went back to serving other customers.

But she still cried, even as she ate. Sorem scanned the room for a proper friend to come and help but she had no one. He found himself reaching into his inner pocket. The moment he slipped to the stool next to hers, the room quieted.

Handkerchief still extended, he looked around to find all eyes on them.

This was…strange. Every single person watched them.

Because he still had his hand up, he cleared his throat and told her, “Pardon me, miss, but you look like you could use this.”

Nothing happened and Sorem risked shifting his gaze to Vadde who stared at him much like everyone else.

She did the strangest thing—she asked the barkeep, “Bonn, is—is it all right to take this?”

The man looked between them; the barkeeper considered his newest customer then Vadde before saying, “Go on. If he gets mad, I’ll explain it.”

With that, she tugged at the handkerchief, and told Sorem, “Thank you. I’ll be sure to wash it and give it back. I promise.”

Hand still extended, Sorem struggled with something to say. Finally, he lowered his arm and turned to go back to his drink.

“Wait,” she called.

He risked turning to her.

“T—thank you. You are new here, I see. May I ask from where you’ve come?”

Even her voice was enchanting. Sorem waited for her to dab her eyes before he opened his mouth to tell her. He thought to say Wisen but what if she’d heard about his ailing cousin? So instead, he decided to lie. “Rowil.”

All chatter faded for a second time.

“Rowil?” Vadde let out a gasp. “Amazing. I—” She caught the barkeeper’s eye and shut her mouth.

Sorem waited. “You?”

Eyes cast low, she muttered, “I’ve…I’ve always wanted to go.”

That was a lie, Sorem was sure, but the powers of the Jvalan only worked when he asked a direct question.

“You’ve never been to Rowil before?”

She flinched, indicating that the spell caught her, dispelling her original plan to say something false.

“I was born there.” Her hands flew to her mouth, and she gasped.

The barkeeper was the first to join them albeit on the opposite side of the bar. Yet another man came, and another. There were five more, surrounding Vadde like palace guards—unkempt guards covered in varying animal leather, and all scowling.

“You ask a lotta questions,” one said, sneering.

Sorem’s lips parted. “Ah…I had not meant to.”

Never mind seeing her here, he was sure he could get an audience with her while she was alone…. He knew where to find her in the mornings….

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