My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  Maker's breath. What did he just walk into?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Comfy

  With her one hand in the air, Myra's head bobbed like a ship on the river when Gavin took a deeper breath. Her eyes darted from where she'd been staring at her fingers to look up his nose. Honestly, it wasn't a bad view. It should be, staring up a boy's nose, but... Her toes curled down where they mixed with his at the thought. She could stare up her boy's nose. Also he was so damn cute he made it work, his elongated nostrils reminding her of one of those fancy caves that'd be home to some ancient chantry relic.

  "Neat, huh?" she said, instead of her cave thought. Purple light danced from one finger to the next, Myra doing her party trick for the boy she curled up beside. The bedroll was barely big enough for him, never mind the pair, so she was partially on the ground. With her leg hooked around his and her body turned fully on the side, it almost worked.

  Gavin's warm fingers slid up from her wrist to circle her palm. With serious focus, Myra lifted the magic fire higher so not to touch him while he so very wonderfully touched her. Purple light burst off her fingertips as if her nails could spew glittery death. "You're still practicing?" the boy below her whispered, his voice dangerously deep. If he dropped it any lower, she'd have to devour him. It was tent law.

  "When I can," she dipped her fingers up and down as if she was playing an invisible lute, the fire dancing with her. Shaking her hand to douse the flame, Myra stared at the puffs of smoke, the only proof she'd conjured anything into this world. "There's not a lot of time..."

  Gavin chuckled as he cupped a palm against her cheek and slowly pushed back the hair, "My mother would be happy to hear that."

  "Oh?" Without the fire to keep her distracted, Myra lay her head upon his chest, losing herself to the slow tug of his gentle tips drawing from the apple of her cheek back towards her ear. At that, he'd trace all around the edge, before thumbing her longer earlobes and then returning to start again. It was hypnotizing bliss.

  "I think she enjoyed teaching you, having someone to share her magic secrets with. My dad, he...he worries about it. A lot."

  "That she'll suddenly go power mad and try to take over the world?"

  She meant it lighthearted but Gavin winced, "That others would find out the truth and come for her."

  Those templars. Hunted mages. Did things to them. Could do things to stop them. Myra read about the bad old days in a few books the moment her magic appeared. But that was ages ago, all the mage prisons long since abolished. It was silly to think people'd care now.

  "But, there's mages all over the place. Like food on a stick guy, and I know another who runs a nursery...for plants, not babies. Though if anyone could grow a baby in say a rutabaga patch it'd be a mage."

  Gavin shrugged, his amber eyes staring at the roof of his tent, "I'm not certain if logic has any place within my father's fears."

  "Sounds like my mom," Myra huffed, but she didn't want to think about Reiss, or her dad. The former would get all smug if she learned about her daughter and the Rutherford boy, but her dad... Could castles catch on fire from one man cursing up a storm? Cause that was likely to happen. He only caught them once, and all but forbid her to even glance over at the gangly boy she was sharing a summer or two with. Myra obeyed his orders for about two hours, after that she didn't tell him.

  She suspected her mother knew, because her mother knew blighted damn near everything. But she never told on her daughter. They had their own secrets they'd keep for each other.

  "Maker's breath," Myra moaned, stretching her free arm across Gavin's chest. It was hard as a taut drum skin, but she could bury her head into his pec and find the perfect cushion.

  "Something wrong?" his fingers froze, rising off of her hair.

  "This is so comfy," she mumbled, her lips skirting over his less than clean shirt. "Can I fall asleep here?"

  "Middle of the day, no one's looking for us, we're well camped, your sister is busy with exploring the latest sinkholes," Gavin quickly recapped all the things Myra knew. Brushing back her hair, his hands drew to land upon her back and tug her closer. "I don't see why not."

  They hadn't worked out anything sophisticated for their little kissing interludes. Myra often drifted in and out of his wake, trying to find a time when he wasn't knee deep in squire duties, before yanking him into the forest to suck his lips off. If the others caught on, they didn't give any hint. Cal looked like he wanted to say something smart the last time Myra walked into a gathering of all the squires, but one withering look from her and he shut up. Or it was the ant colony she dumped into his bedroll. Hard to say, really.

  This was nice. He was nice. There'd been a few other boys over the years Myra tried to steal a kiss or two from, but they were often like a suckerfish with lips. Their approach was to latch onto her mouth with theirs and slobber all over the place. Gavin was sweet, a bit shy, but he was always holding her while doing it. Hands against her cheeks, threading through her hair, rubbing her knee. How a boy barely capable of dancing managed to be that certain in kissing a girl she'd never get.

  But she'd sure try to get it every chance she could.

  "What do you think Rosie's doing right now?" Myra mused.

  "Here I thought you'd fallen asleep."

  She twisted her heavy head around to plant her chin into him, "Afraid you'd have to carry me out?"

  Gavin smiled, "I think I could manage."

  "I dunno, I may look tiny but there's a lot of muscle on these bones," she lifted up her arm, made a fist, and drew it back to try and emphasize her bicep. He skirted his fingers over the nowhere near as jaw dropping ones he had.

  "Maybe you'll have to carry me," he whispered, his touch drawing from her arm to her cheek. With barely a whisper, his fingers guided her face up to his lips. Greedy for a never ending supply, Myra dove into the kiss. A warmth tumbled in her stomach that competed with the pile of hatching butterflies. Each flutter gargled up to her throat as she had to keep reminding herself this was real. She was really kissing him.

  Her body taking control, Myra slid up to drape her leg over Gavin until she was straddling him. At the pressure, his eyes opened a moment, lips dipping back from hers. Sliding up higher, Myra placed both her hands beside his head and moved to kiss him again. Like the genteel man he was, Gavin drew his hands along the small of her back, not even making a pretend play for anything lower.

  With a silly laugh she dropped her lips lower, about to taste him again, when the flap to the tent popped open and his dwarven roommate waltzed in without a second thought. He must have had his sight focused on something in his hands, because it took a moment before the dwarf glanced over and smiled slyly.

  "So..." Snowy chuckled while Myra felt a blush burning through her entire skin. She tried to slide off of Gavin, while he was all but shoving her away to try and hide her from the roommate. "This is what you do while the rest of us are working."

  "I..."

  "Say no more," Snowy held a hand up, a smile permanently stuck to his lips, "Can't blame you, but a little warning might be nice."

  "We weren't doing anything," Gavin's brow clouded, his voice crackling like thin ice.

  The dwarf yanked off one glove, then the other, and quietly laid both upon a pile of clothing. For a beat, his eyes darted over to Myra who wished she knew a spell to melt herself into the ground. Then Snowy focused on Gavin, "Sure you weren't. You were both looking for treasure together...in your mouth."

  Gavin groaned, his head flopping back hard into the ground. He kept digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as if to expunge the fact they got caught. Should she leave? Scamper away and try to pretend she was elsewhere? Myra stared around the messy tent wishing for any kind of help.

  "Are you going to tell anyone?" she asked, her head tipped to the side. She wanted to seem imposing, but it was hard to pull off while half of her was eclipsed by Gavin.

  After closing up his kit, Snowy turned over and really focused on her
. "You're the king's kid, right? The not going to be a ruler one."

  "Yeah," she gulped. Would he tell her father? Or worse. Would he blackmail them to keep from telling her dad, and then tell him anyway?

  "That position's a pain in the ass," Snowy tipped his head to her in a strange understanding. "Not important but too important to be normal." Turning away from them, he finished whatever he needed to get, "No, far as I know I came into my tent and found my roomie fast asleep. Which is what I thought I'd find, in truth. Aren't you due for the night shift?"

  "I'll get to it," Gavin said.

  "Don't know what you said to Ol 12 Bottles, but she's really got it out for you now. Dropping you into the death hour where she ain't need to see nor hear from you. What did you do?"

  Myra felt Gavin's body stiffen tight, his eyes gazing around the room, "I told her the truth."

  "Ah shit, farm boy. That's the worst of them all," Snowy shook his head at the foolish move before yanking up the overfilled bag with whatever he needed to get. "Welp, you two have fun. But not on my bed." At that he waggled a finger at the pair of them as if they ever thought to.

  The dwarf began to walk to the door, when Gavin twisted onto his knees and tried to chase after. "You're not bothered at all?"

  "What? That you found yourself someone?" Snowy smirked, "I'm just surprised it took this long. Gonna put a crimp in my style, though I assume you'll keep being your blubbering self around strange women that I can swoop in and charm away."

  The back of Gavin's entire neck flushed, no doubt even more circling his cheeks, but Myra couldn't see them. "Most likely," he admitted.

  "And now you have something to come back to when you utterly fail," the dwarf's hand gestured back to Myra who was beginning to feel more like a scrap of meat dogs kept fighting over. "But, if you're going to...ya know, leave a sock outside the door. I'll get the message and find somewhere else to sleep."

  "What?" Gavin gasped, his head craning in shock from the implications. "No, that's..."

  "Bye," Snowy waved cheerfully before vanishing outside.

  Gavin remained perched upon his knees staring at his fingers as if they were covered in filth. Sliding up to her hip while twisted on her side, a fist cushioning her head, Myra stared hard at him. "So...you and the dwarf team up together to pick up women?"

  Whatever had Gavin ensnared shattered and he turned to look at Myra. His eyes were stretched so wide she could probably fit a copper into both and have room to spare. "No, no, I swear. I have no idea what he's talking..."

  Myra snorted at the sincerity radiating off of him like the sun. "I know. There's no way you'd think of such a plan or go along with it." Gavin's panicked look faded and he nodded to emphasize that she was right. He was far too sweet for something so nefarious.

  Tapping her chin in thought, Myra added, "Though I bet he is using you."

  "What?"

  "Finding the handsomest squire in the bunch, propping him up to pull the women in like honey to flies. Then snatching one or two away because even the biggest honeypot can't take them all on."

  That goofy, cheesy grin returned, Gavin's head dropping down as he watched his fingers interlocking. Carefully, he inched closer to her, each hand padding across the ground before he stopped right above her. Myra lay back, stretching to claim his bed for her own.

  "You think I'm handsome?"

  "We are not playing this game again," Myra snorted, shutting her eyes.

  "Handsomer than the others? Handsomer than...Cal?"

  At that she gagged, "Ugh, maggots growing out of dead carrion on the side of the road are more handsome than Cal."

  Gavin scrunched up his face, clearly not believing her. Sitting up fast, Myra drew her fingers up and down his sides. It took a few passes before a laugh erupted from him. Two more, then a dozen, two dozen, he was gasping for air as she tickled both taut, muscle strewn areas of his chest. The fact that his eyes would bug a bit, and he'd grin with all those white teeth made Myra feel better. She liked this Gavin a lot. She didn't know what to make of the stern, handsome one yet.

  Suddenly, a hand grabbed onto her one wrist, then the other. Easily lifting both away from their ticklish assault, Gavin leaned down until he was but a breath away from her lips. "You're cute too," he whispered before kissing her. Lost in the touch of his lips softening as they drifted into hers, Myra felt her hands flop out of his grip.

  One locked around his cheek, tugging him deeper into the kiss. The other however...

  Fingertips danced up and down her sides, darting like minnows leaping in a creek through the gaps in her ribs and back down. "Damn it," Myra struggled, her lips pursing to keep the giggles in, but Gavin wouldn't stop kissing her. Even as he had to be meeting nothing but lipless skin he refused to stop. "Damn you!" Myra shouted, the laughter escaping in a final blow. Her body twisted back and forth on his pallet, both trying to escape and languishing in the attention.

  "I like it when you laugh," Gavin stated the obvious, finally pulling his treacherous tickling fingers from her side.

  Trying to cling back to some semblance of civility, Myra smoothed her hands back over her face. Tendrils of long blonde hair whipped around it, all of which refused to return to her braid. "So...you can either take a nap before your shift," she said, her fingers slowly spidering up the arm keeping him aloft. "Or, we could make out some more."

  He answered by dipping down and kissing her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Sinking

  It was a great sinkhole, another chunk in the ground that opened up to reveal tattered deep roads below. They'd been happening on and off for a decade now, the first few little cause for concern. Sometimes crumbling occurred. But as they began to mount not only in Ferelden but Nevarra, Antiva, the Free Marches, Orlais -- all of thedas was starting to wonder just what was happening and did it have anything to do with the dwarves fleeing to the surface?

  For now, all Rosie could see was a big, black hole that led to nothing. The mayor kept pointing at it as if she should have some easy answer or explanation, but aside from putting up a warning sign there didn't seem to be much. They couldn't very well fill the hole with dirt, it stretched practically three hundred feet down. Maker, how did the dwarves saddle them with so many problems? Which they were doing their best to obfuscate solving in favor of tradition. Her father hadn't formed an official stance yet as King, but she often heard him shouting, "Maker damn dwarves. If it's not siccing golems on us, or that corpse building creature, it's blowing up their own damn homes out from underneath us. What do they want, a hug?"

  "Well," the mayor waved again, but all Rosamund could do was grimace. They wouldn't let her anywhere close to the hole, their Princess kept a good twenty feet back for safety, but she could see a sliver of the red runs still glowing deep below.

  "I shall," she turned to him and in doing so her eyes cast across the vista behind. A few of her guards paced the grounds, as did the local militia who were mostly there as a show of force, but what caught her eyes was the dark woman leaning up against a tree. She had her arms crossed tight into her pits, her head tipped down in thought. When she felt Rosie's curious eyes, Anjali lifted her face and winked.

  Trying to shake off the thought, Rosie said, "I shall inform my father of this newest occurrence the moment I return to Denerim."

  "Occurrence? It's a blighted bleedin' hole to the undercroft right below our fields. Last thing we need is some damn druffalo breaking a leg or falling down it."

  "I..." she began, wanting to tell the man that there was nothing she could do, when Avery inserted himself. He was often at her heel, only giving Rosamund a few free moments before bed where she could be truly alone with herself.

  When you take that crown, you'll never know them again.

  But that was years down the line. Decades, most likely.

  While the advisor promised the mayor the moon without making anything tangible, Rosie wandered off towards her people. She nodded her head at the guards who had a
hand upon the hilt of their sword but boredom in their eyes. They gazed at nothing but a darkening horizon. The sun would remain up for a few more hours, but it was falling behind the high hills of Redcliffe. After a long day of listening to the plight of the small town man, all Rosie wanted to do was slip out of her tight dress and curl up to sleep. Maybe savor a warm mug of tea spiked with Tess' special lemon juice.

  She felt the dark umber eyes upon her, and Rosie turned towards the assassin who didn't need to be here. No one told her she couldn't be, but it was rather obvious the advisors all considered her a nuisance at best, a danger at worst. Strange for her to remain hovering around them like this.

  "What do you make of the holes emerging across thedas?" Rosamund began as a conversation starter.

  Anjali drew her thumb across her lips. It was a languid swipe as if she was going to color it but had no pigment in place. "Don't know. Never worried about them before. Haven't seen one either, until now. It's very...holey."

  Rosie's smile strained at the pun; she'd been smiling through Maker awful jokes for what had to be weeks now. "You have no opinion, no thoughts on what could be forming them?"

  Snorting, Anjali leaned a touch closer, "If it ain't my problem, I don't concern myself with it."

  "Must be an easy life," she sighed, thinking of every problem weighed upon her.

  Anjali shrugged, "Not really, but it's all I've got."

  "If you don't mind my asking," Rosie began, turning to face her fully.

  She snorted, "Oh Maker, anyone starts with that and you know you're going to mind. But...you're nice to look at, especially with the red sun dancing through your black hair like that."

  Tipping her head down, Rosie tried to fight back the blush she felt. Maybe that could be blamed on the red sun as well. After getting control of herself, she honed in on Anjali's eyes. "Why did you become an assassin?"