My Love

by Sabrina Zbasnik

  By the time the door closed, and Rossie had composed herself, she turned to Myra who was prodding at the armrest with curiosity. "Myra..."

  "Your hair's a mess," she called out, not looking up. There was a carving underneath. She was trying to decipher it with her fingers, but the middle word was confusing her.

  Gasping, Rosie's arms flailed as she tried to smooth down her hair.

  "The little details, those are the ones you have to watch 'cause they're the first to go," Myra muttered when she finally figured out what was wrong. You spell it with a u not an o. Duh.

  Turning her head up, she watched her sister cross the room as if she was walking to her death. Rosie paused, her foot straining to make the next step while Myra stared her up and down. Cocking her head to the side, she sighed, "A headache? That was the best you could come up with?"

  Rosie blew a great snot bubble out of her nose, the exhale so sharp it should have come with knives. As primly as possible, she planted her ass onto the chair catty-corner to Myra's. "What I was doing with Anjali..."

  "Are you being safe?" Myra asked, her voice riddled with concern.

  Her sister glared at that, her arms crossing tight, "You find this hilarious."

  "Now come on, Rosie. You can tell me. I'm your sister."

  "Regrettably," she rolled her eyes, causing Myra to break into giggles.

  "What are you thinking?" Myra snapped at her. Rosie's bright face flushed to an ice cold white of terror. "I am the master of sneaking around. A headache? You know Tess knew the whole time, right? She's standing out there doing whatever it is all those girls around you do."

  "Tess?" Rosie whipped her head towards the door where no doubt her friend watched a harried assassin run down the stairs to freedom. "Blighted hell," she groaned, burying her face into her hands. "It wasn't...it's not supposed to be. There isn't a thing occurring that can..."

  Myra reached over to pat her sister on the knee. "You like her?"

  A brief window parted between her fingers, allowing Rosie to look over at her younger sister. "I believe so," she confessed as if it was weighing down her soul.

  "Then here's what you do," Myra adjusted her hips and stared directly at her sister, "no more claiming illness. That just worries people. Or they know you're shitting them and try to call you on it. Never works. No, the trick is to sneak out at night."

  "I've attempted that," Rosie began before her face went tomato red. "Not that, I mean I would not have considered...the..."

  "Did you go too early?" Myra asked, already reading the situation. Her sister was an early to bed type, while a lot of the younger people around her were not. "There's a magic hour, magic hours, from about 2 to 4 in the morning. All the night owls will have finally conked on out to bed, or found other beds to play in, and the morning pigeons won't be waking for another hour. That's when you mess around."

  Rosie folded her hands together in thought, properly weighing her younger sister's words. After a time, she whipped her head over and narrowed her eyes, "How often have you done this?"

  "Me? Never," Myra said so sincerely, Rosie burst out laughing.

  "Very well, I will consider your advice."

  "You like her a lot, don't you?" Myra inched nearer, her voice dropping low to share in the secret.

  Her sister maintained her aloof stance, but her eyes crinkled in a hidden smile. "I think I might. I'm not certain what all it means."

  "Don't need to mean anything now. You have fun, but you are being safe right? No throwing knives, or wrestling bears."

  "Sweet merciful Maker, I shall never again inquire if you're safe. Lesson learned," Rosie parted her hands, for once not looking like the uptight tutor she always tried to pretend to be.

  "I'm glad, that you're happy. Also real glad you won't be acting like my mother anymore because it's bad enough having one."

  She meant it too, both parts, but the first one in particular. Rosie was always smiling while she paraded about as princess, but this time they looked like they came from her gut instead of her head. As if she wanted to burst out into song, and skip through meadows or other fancy shit like that. It was nice, she'd been waffling about it all for so long.

  Shifting in her seat, Rosie dropped her voice lower, "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

  "Like anyone would believe me even if I did," Myra shook it off before sighing, "Nah. You can tell 'em when you want to. I have enough problems on my own."

  "Thank you," her sister reached over and gripped onto her hand. They swung together a moment, both girls smiling as they shared a secret love blooming in their hearts.

  Maker's sake, she needed to stop reading those terrible books Auntie Lune sent her.

  "I should go," Myra said tipping her head to the window.

  "You can use the door."

  "Nah," she chuckled, her foot out to get a grip, "I can't wait for the confusing look on Tess' face. Open the door and there's no Myra. It's like she vanished."

  "If you're gone how can you see the look on her face?"

  "Here," Myra tapped her head, "in my mind. It's glorious. And might want to shush up your friend too, 'cause boy does she know something's up."

  Rosie's lips pursed and she nodded her head, "Yes, I will. Thank you."

  "No problem." Myra hooked a hand onto a lower ledge and moved to slide down. Below her, the surf of lake Calenhad pounded against the rocky shoreline. If she slipped, it'd be a very prodding and pointy end. "Oh!"

  Myra tugged her head up to stare inside. "Practice on a peach."

  Her sister froze, her face knotting up in confusion, "Practice on a...?"

  "That's what Lunet always told me. For lip and tongue fatigue." Having said her bit of wisdom, she slid down to the lower ledge away from the open window.

  Before Rosie closed it, she heard her sister shout out in a groan, "Myra!"

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Coverup

  His fingers remained chastely glued to her calves, not even risking the risqué terrain of her kneecaps. Nope, all Gavin could manage was to massage back and forth over her chicken legs. Not that she wanted to complain about what little was on offer with the warmth of his hands cupping over her rarely bare skin. She snickered at how his eyes slightly bugged when Myra walked into his tent with the short pants on. It was hot, and she was running out of clothing that wasn't covered in darkspawn blood. At least she still had a few extra tunics left behind -- though knowing Captain Gallant here he'd probably offer her the one off of his back while keeping his eyes closed.

  Myra pivoted around, her legs that'd been crossed while she sat beside him sliding together and forming a small hill right above Gavin's lap. He glanced over from his book, a question bobbing in the amber depths. Nearly sitting in his lap, Myra reached over and tugged him to her lips. It could have been so romantic and sexy, but she failed to take into account how damn tall he was.

  Tumbling from her unexpected grab, Gavin's chin smacked into her mouth, ratting Myra's teeth. She hissed at the idiotic plan and the pain, both causing her to whip her head fast out of fear he'd see something terrible, like tears in her eyes. "What...?" he gasped, a hand trying to massage away the accidental bite she gave to his chin. "What were you doing?"

  "Nothing," Myra sputtered, her hackles raising. She moved to slide her legs back under herself, but Gavin's hand locked in on her knee. With him holding them in place, she froze. Her eyes darted up from her heavy and very mortified brow to watch as he brushed his fingers along the nape of her neck.

  "Was it this?" he asked before pressing his lips to hers. Waves washed away her damn anxiety and embarrassment, pure bliss wafting off the man anchored to her face. Okay, anchored isn't really sexy there Myra. Um, suckered? No, Maker, that's even worse. Just kiss him and stop thinking.

  Before he pulled away, Gavin drew his nose against the side of hers, Myra's jabbing deeper into the sweet brown cheek. At least he didn't seem to mind. "How was that?" he whispered, his tongue lapping over his lips and distracting
her. While she watched it vanish back into his mouth, Myra spotted a sign of hair sprouting off the top of his lip. A dark tuft barely filled in across the vast wasteland and she wanted to run her fingers through it.

  No, her toes!

  You're being weird again. Stick to fingers.

  "Good," she sputtered, aware she was staring and not talking. "I like it, like a lot and..." Her breath caught as the next words hung inside her brain. Like a runaway carriage that just flattened a fruit stand, took out a baker, and pitched right at the top of a hill this thing hung precariously from the edge, incapable of being stopped until it shattered at the bottom of a chasm.

  Running her fingers up and down his clothed arm, Myra whispered, "I like you."

  "I like you too," he said so fast her head whipped up in surprise.

  "Just, just like that? You say 'I like you?'"

  "Yes?" Gavin's eyes darted around his tiny tent as if he feared to find others seeping out of thin air, "Or, was I not supposed to do it that way? Oh Maker, was there to be a spectacle?"

  "No!" Myra threw up her hands, then groaned. "No, I only...forget it." She folded in on herself. Stupid. Why did you question it? Why did you react wrong? Now he's pouting...though Maker does he look cute when he pouts. Not the time to be thinking that.

  "I just, all the boy stories I heard, it seemed like getting them to talk about that stuff was like pulling a druffalo uphill in the snow, both ways."

  That sweet smile returned, Gavin's eyes shining at her confession. "So I should obfuscate and deflect my feelings?"

  "Maybe, a couple times...so I don't start thinking you're a changeling or something."

  "I shall take that under consideration," Gavin whispered, returning to another kiss. She melted into him, practically purring in the back of her throat while he tousled with her downed hair. That braid was proving to be a real pain, but he was getting better at helping her to remove it.

  When Gavin opened his mouth, Myra dove in at the opportunity. Maker's sake, he tasted so good -- like that heat you get in your stomach after you ate a spicy pepper but it's not too much. Just the right kind of burn. That one coursed through her veins, driving Myra's hands to cup up and down Gavin's chest. She was fascinated with his pecs, in particular the thin canyon between both. Myra couldn't stop running her finger up and down it, tapping into both sides of the muscley pillows surrounding it. Like a cozy and hot path or something.

  Parting from his chest, her fingers found their way down towards his stomach. The patch of muscles trembled even below his thick tunic. She wanted to touch the naked skin, to let his heat pass through her naked skin. Sliding higher, Myra hooked her fingers along Gavin's hem. He leaned back, breaking off the kiss.

  Myra opened her fingers, letting go of her prize as the hot node of failure burned in the back of her brain. That wasn't the right move. You shouldn't do whatever you did. Gavin made no obvious motions against it, but she could feel it in the air. Unaware of anything off, he picked up his book and began to read. But rather than drift off to his own world, he hooked a hand around the back of Myra's waist and tugged her right beside him.

  With one arm locked around her and the other propping up the book, he guided Myra to rest her head against his chest. Gavin buried his chin into the crown of her hair, while she closed her eyes and fell into the soothing thrum of his heart. Each beat called out to hers, inviting it to slow down and join in with this other heart. Take its time, appreciate what it had.

  "What are you reading?"

  "Nothing too exciting," Gavin whispered, "just an old adventure tale."

  Myra cracked open an eye and tried to follow along but so close to her face and at a vertical angle she could barely make it out. "Why don't you read it aloud?"

  A gasp erupted from the supportive body under her. "That...why would you want to hear that?"

  "Because your voice is like stepping into a bath of coconut milk," Myra threw off casually, but at his locked in silence she stammered, "I mean, just that...that was kinda weird, huh?"

  "No, I'd simply never heard anyone describe my voice. Weird or otherwise. Why coconut milk?"

  "Dad had a lot of coconuts, like drums and drums of them from some trip up north or a gift. Diplomats bring the weirdest gifts. We ran out of ideas of what to do with them all so I tried bathing in it."

  "How was it?" he whispered against her forehead.

  Maker, she could sleep like this. His strong arms swooped tight around her back and stomach, the heat of his body lulling hers across the veil. "Smooth, and cool, and very sticky."

  "I shall try to avoid speaking sticky," he said while eyeing up the page. Gavin coughed once, no doubt trying to clear out all that coconut shell, and began to read aloud. "'Upon the perch, Ermassium heaved deftly to his...'"

  The door to the tent popped open and Snowy stumbled in. "Hey Myra," he barely glanced over at the girl practically melting into Gavin. After dropping his gear, the dwarf turned to his roomie, "12 bottles is looking for you. Says you're due to help unpack the tents before we move out."

  Gavin didn't complain, just nodded at the dwarf and closed his book, "Thank you."

  For a beat Myra caught Snowy's eye, the dwarf sharing the same 'what is wrong with him?' look. Shrugging, Snowy tugged back open the tent flap and resumed whatever he was up to. Seeing as how most of the other squires were on downtime, it was probably fleecing people at cards again. Only Gavin was always on call, always put to the fields while everyone else sat back and relaxed. It was infuriating, and all the more so because he reacted to it with a shrug.

  Placing the book back in his pack, Gavin began to slide out from under Myra, but she stuck in place. "Why are you doing this?"

  "I'd rather keep my things in one place than risk losing them," he explained needlessly.

  Rolling her eyes, she scrunched up against the wall as Gavin tried to shuffle around and prepare to return to his duties. "I mean why are you suddenly supposed to help take down tents. That's what the servants do. What's a squire needed for?"

  "I'm uncertain. Perhaps to assist or look out for danger."

  "We're two days out of Redcliffe, we're still in the Hinterlands. The only danger is a bear falling into Karelle's whiskey barrel, wandering into camp, and attempting to fornicate with a wagon."

  Gavin flinched at her graphic what if, but didn't pause in packing up. "Whatever it is, I'm sure there is a good reason for it."

  She snorted at that and dug into her eyes, "The reason being Daryan hates your guts. You'd think you lying to save her ass would do the opposite, but noope."

  "That wasn't why I did it." He went quiet, his words clipped at Myra's thoughts. Gavin was shuffling around his things without any seeming end goal in mind. He seemed to want to head out there as much as Myra wanted him to.

  "Why then?" she tipped her head to the side. "Why cover for Ol' 12 Bottles if not to get on her good side? Not like it worked with Cal." He was still being an ass, but a more cautious one. The shit somehow managed to convince half of his little cultists that he wasn't pissing himself scared when the darkspawn attacked. In fact, it was Cal who saved Gavin somehow. Even though they saw it with their own eyes, they believed the turd's lies because...

  Andraste, if Myra ever figured out why she'd probably be rich.

  Gavin didn't answer, his shoulders knotting up, but Myra was more than curious now. She didn't press him at the time, and both her and Snowy agreed to keep the lie. It seemed easier somehow, but he had to have a reason. "Why? Why'd you throw yourself behind another petard for someone who you hate rather than let her take the fall?"

  "She's my Knight," he said.

  "Okay...I know that, but it's not a reason."

  "Isn't it?" Gavin turned back, his eyes narrowing down in full concentration. "I am devoted to her, to assist her in anyway I can."

  "By lying? Cause that's what you did, you know. You lied."

  "I...I did not think it my place to punish her."

  Myra snorted, waving her
hand through the air as if anyone thought the squire would do such a thing. More than likely it would have fallen to Rosie, and after their Dad popping up Daryan would have been in deep hurting. "Do you even know where she was while we were kicking darkspawn ass?"

  He gently shook his head negative.

  "So you lied, then you didn't press her for it, and now she's got you running ragged because she's pissed you got some dirt on her. That about it?"

  "I don't think that's why..." he insisted, plucking up his scabbard to knot onto the hip.

  Myra reached over and grabbed onto his forearm. The muscle flexed to steel, not willing to be turned from its duty, but she just wanted him to look at her. "Ya know, loyalty ain't all it's cracked up to be."

  "Excuse me?" he turned to her, his eyebrows meeting deep as if she questioned his heritage. As if Myra would do that to anyone. "I was not being loyal. I was serving as I am asked to do, as we are all asked to do."

  "Or you were blindly protecting someone who maybe doesn't deserve it. I've seen lots of people who work that angle. They're shit at their job, but it don't matter 'cause they get people on their side. They dazzle 'em with shiny words and trinkets, then when things go belly up because they're idiots, they sell out all their friends and escape scot-free. Seen it dozens of times."

  Only a whisper of a breath rattled his nose, Gavin staring down at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. "I have not been dazzled by her words or any trinkets. As you well know, Ser Daryan despises me."

  "Doesn't have to be hers," Myra shrugged and she felt Gavin's shoulders tighten to knots. She didn't mean to drag back up their first real argument but she was worried. People, good people, go in protecting their own. It's, wozzat, human nature and all. But then it becomes habit and that's how the wounds start to fester. Instead of burning 'em away, they keep feeding 'em until the whole thing's gone gangrene.