Midnight Quest by Honor Raconteur Read Free Book Online Page B

she had helped to protect. No one here knew that he had nearly told a goddess off rather than come to her rescue. Still, even then, the hot flush of shame heated his face.
    He stood from his crouch, moving closer to the fire, swinging off the heavy cloak he wore as he did so. Gently, he placed it around her shoulders, gathering the front to close in around her. She initially startled at the first touch of the cloth against her skin, but when she realized what it was, she reached up to catch his hand, holding him there.
    “Won’t you be cold?” she asked in concern.
    “I be used to cold much harsher than this,” he assured her. “My coat be enough in this weather.” This time, he sat down next to her. He took in a deep breath to steady his nerves before trying to speak again. “Priestess, I be Ramathan.”
    Her mouth dropped open a little. “Oh! Do you know, then, what Corgen wanted?”
    “No,” he answered, fervently wishing that he did. “Himself did no say anything about this to us.”
    “Himself?” she repeated in confusion.
    Rialt paused a moment, struggling to form an explanation for something that every Ramathan child by the age of three understood. “Our Ahbiren—you would say clan leader—be like a father to all of us. We do no call him by title, just refer to him.”
    “Ah, I see.” She raised the cup to her lips, taking another healthy swallow. “I…I have a request for both of you.”
    Whatever this girl wanted, Rialt would gladly give it to her. “Ask, Priestess.”
    “First, call me by my name?” she requested with a hopeful smile.
    “We will, Jewel, if you so wish,” Sarvell responded. He’d been very quiet during this exchange, studying the two of them intently, and he was obviously relieved at Rialt’s evident change of attitude.
    “Good. But I want to…um…see you.” She wriggled her hand a little in partial explanation.
    Rialt blinked at her in confusion, not quite sure he understood what she asked, when Sarvell lit up with understanding. “Of course, Jewel,” he assured her, shifting about so that he sat on his knees directly in front of her. “Go right ahead.”
    “Thank you,” she responded with a puff of relief. “I’ve been so curious, but for most people, it’s very uncomfortable when I do this.” She set the cup carefully beside her, then reached out with both hands until they grazed Sarvell’s chest. Rialt watched silently as she slid her hands across, up and down, her brows furrowed in concentration.
    “You’re very muscular,” she commented, mouth quirked up slightly. “But your shirt and coat are made from very fine material. You’re not a guardsman, are you?”
    Sarvell’s eyes twinkled in amusement by this observation and question. “No, I’m the third son of a merchant family. My head is better with fighting and logistics than numbers, so they put me in charge of the caravan guards.”
    “Ah, that explains it.” Pleased by his answer, she let her hands drift down to his, where she carefully felt along his wrist and fingers. “You are a very neat, meticulous man.”
    Rialt blinked again. It was obvious for him to see this, but how in the four winds could she tell?
    “Your nails are perfectly trimmed, and your hands have thick calluses, but aren’t rough,” she explained as if she could see their bemusement. “Very few men are as careful with their appearance as you are.” Her hands went back up, this time examining his face with light fingertips. “Hmm,” her mouth curled up in a wider smile, “you’re handsome.”
    “ Now you’re pulling my leg,” Sarvell drawled.
    “I’m blind, not oblivious,” she retorted on a laugh. “Your features are very symmetrical, and you have those high cheekbones women love. You’re younger than I thought, too. Twenty-five?”
    Sarvell raised both eyebrows at her in surprise. “Twenty-eight, actually.”
     She withdrew her hands and sat back again. “I bet that you’re used to charming people