Erik the Tempered: A Fantasy Romance (Dokiri Brides Book 2) by Denali Day

Author:Denali Day [Day, Denali]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

16

Forget Me Not

The sound of Tysha’s retreating footsteps echoed down the tunnel, the only sign he was going the right way. She’d left the birthing spring without a word, at a pace so sudden and abrupt that the joy in Erik’s heart morphed into fear within the span of a blink. He’d called after her, asked her to slow down, to wait. Either she hadn’t heard him, or she’d refused.

By the time he’d caught sight of her again, she was hurrying through the common area, only to disappear down the path toward the private springs. She’d snapped up a torch. Bedmeg was in an uproar, buzzing with celebration over Erik’s nephews. No one seemed to notice him racing to catch up with his retreating hamma, though a few called their congratulations as he passed.

The twisting tunnel finally widened, and the dozen or so dark openings of the private pools came into view. Each tiny pool was pocketed within its own little cave, much like a flooded bok. The temperature of the pools varied depending on what source fed them. Melted snow or boiling sulfur. Erik raised his light but didn’t have to search each alcove for Tysha. There was only one other torch down here, and it was notched on the inside of the furthest cave.

Erik slowed, catching his breath. He wasn’t winded, but his heart raced nonetheless. He didn’t know why, but he was as afraid to follow his bride as he felt compelled to do so. By the time he reached the corner, his steps had slowed to a creep. Around the bend, the sound of sloshing water and weeping woman assaulted his ears. Erik’s stomach tightened. Preparing himself, he rounded the corner and peered into the shadowy pool.

Tysha was there, standing with her back to him, chest deep in the water. She was totally clothed. Her wild hair hung in a mess over the rocky bank at the far edge of the pool. She clung there, shoulders heaving with each cry.

“Tysha?” he whispered, too quiet to really be heard.

Why was he so afraid? Why did he feel the urge—no, the imperative—to run? Even now as he notched his torch and stripped off his shirt, he wanted to flee. Instead, he stepped barefoot into the warm water of the pool. He waded forward, his hands hovering over the surface. He reached for her.

“Tysha.”

She choked on a sob and straightened. “Erik. Please, leave me alone.”

Erik halted. His arms stopped mere inches from her turned back. “What’s wrong, woman? Why are you weeping?”

She shook her head with renewed tears. No answer seemed forthcoming, and Erik ached to take her into his arms, to chase away whatever fear or sorrow plagued her. He settled for resting a palm over one of her heaving shoulders.

“Tysha, why are you here?”

She sobbed. “M-my. . .dress i-is dirty.”

Erik cringed. It was such an obvious evasion, he was surprised she’d bothered to answer him. What could he do? He swallowed hard. “It will never wash like this.

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