The Warrior Poet by Sharon Lynn Fisher

Author:Sharon Lynn Fisher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2021-09-09T17:08:55+00:00

When I woke, the only light in the room came from stars glinting between two silvery clouds. A weight rested on my chest—we’d sunk down into the pillows, and Neve’s head had fallen onto me. Her breaths came shallow and quick, and her hand splayed across my breastbone. My heart was beating fast beneath it.

Don’t move. Don’t break the spell.

Then there came a knock on the chamber door. Sighing, I eased out from under her, letting her head slip to the pillows. The marking on the inside of her wrist faced out, and I saw that it was about half past seven—if in fact it was keeping accurate time. My eyes lingered a moment on the pale, soft skin of her wrist.

Smoothing my hair and clearing my throat, I walked over and opened the door a crack. A maid stood outside with a tray. I hesitated, but quickly realized there was no point—she had been here before and would know very well this was the room my companion had taken. I held my finger to my lips and pushed the door open. She came in and quietly set down the tray, which contained a teapot and cup.

“Will you be wanting a fire, sir?” she asked in a low voice, crossing to the window and closing the casement. The room was cold.

“Please.”

She stirred the ashes searching for live coals, and I asked, “Do you know the hour?”

“It’s about half past seven, sir.” That was settled, then.

“And the festivities below, what time do they begin?”

Having coaxed a few flames from fresh kindling and tossed in a few logs, she straightened and replied, “The feast is at eight, sir.”

Only half an hour.

“Shall I bring your tray in here, sir?”

I glanced at the maid, but her countenance registered no judgment. Then I looked at Neve, who appeared to still be sleeping soundly. Remembering the warm press of her body, I experienced a strong urge to return. Could I do it without waking her?

I shook my head at both myself and the maid. “I’m going back to my room.”

When the maid was gone, I returned to the bed and sat carefully on the edge. Neve’s eyes fluttered open. “I’m awake. I waited, in case it might be awkward.”

I smiled. “Was it good to sleep?”

She stretched her arms above her head, reminding me again of a cat, and then she sat up. Suddenly we were inches apart, and before I could overcome the impulse, my eyes moved to her mouth. Her lips parted—and my breath stopped.

“Yes,” she answered softly. I could no longer remember the question.

I leaned toward her—I couldn’t help it. She leaned too, and then I felt her lips against mine.

It was like falling into the Gap, except I wasn’t afraid, or disoriented, or dizzy. The silk of her mouth and the spring-green smell of her overwhelmed my senses. Despite the cool tones of these sensations, my body was burning—a tree struck by lightning in the midst of a spring shower.

The kiss was soft

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