Caom chuckled. “Are you ever going to forgive Belial for that? He knew what he was doing. You were never in any danger.”
I shot him an incredulous look. “Like that makes it okay?”
He just rolled his eyes. “So mortal. Who knows, maybe you’ll shed your mortal skin tomorrow night at the festivities. Being surrounded by Folk and our music and food is sure to do something.”
This shit again. I didn’t bother to answer, instead reaching out and plucking up a long, seeded stalk of grass. I stripped off the pods, and they scattered in the breeze behind us.
Caom watched my hands. “Did you read any more of that book? The drachmsmith one?”
I cleared my throat, wanting to hunch my shoulders in case the poultice had stained my neck. “Uh, yeah. A little more.”
“Were you drawn to it? When you saw it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess so. I don’t know what it means.”
“A drachmsmith is someone gifted in potioncraft.”
I kept my head down, eyes on the stalk of grass I was tearing to shreds with my fingers, sure he’d be able to see on my face that I’d already made a failed attempt atpotioncraftthe day before.
“Oh,” I muttered. “Okay.”
I could feel Caom’s eyes on me.
“You should read more of Briordan’s books. At the cottage,” he said lightly. “I think you’d enjoy them.”
I dropped what remained of the stalk and shrugged. “Probably will. There’s not much else to do there.”
“Are you bored? I can come and keep you company more.”
I shot him a quick glance. “Look, I’m flattered, but—”
“I don’t mean like that,” he said stiffly. “I’ve gotten the message. But I—I just meant… We’re friends, I hope?”
I looked over at him as we walked. His copper eyes were kind when he wasn’t trying to make them all sultry. He was handsome, but just… not for me.
I nodded, giving him a small smile.
“Yeah. Thanks.” I cleared my throat, looking away. “I haven’t said that yet. Thank you. You’ve… helped a lot.”
Caom went very still, then beamed, bumping my shoulder with his. “Of course. And you’ll have fun tomorrow night, Ash. I’ll make sure of it.”
I doubted it, but said nothing.
The wolf came back that night.
I’d just finished drying off after my bath, my belly pleasantly full from my dinner of dried meat and pickles from the pantry. I knew I’d have to actually cook at some point, but I’d been tired from exploring with Caom.
A faint whine made me freeze, before a soft scratching came from the front door. Already grinning, I fumbled into my old shorts and went to open it.
“You’re back.”
The wolf was bigger than I remembered, its jet-black fur gleaming in the moonlight. It sat on its haunches and panted up at me, tail wagging.
I let out a little laugh and stepped outside to scratch behind its ears. “I forgot how huge you are. What a beast.”
The wolf nuzzled my inner wrist, scenting me, its twitching nose cold and wet. It licked my arm with its raspy tongue.
I sank to my haunches and scratched under its muzzle. “Are you hungry? Or thirsty? You’re too big to come inside.” Straightening up, I added, “Wait here,” as if the wolf could actually understand me, before I went into the cottage.