Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Willow bark, just like you asked,” he says. “You will drink this and feel better.”
He says it like a command, but I don’t care. It’s so wonderfully thoughtful. There’s no fire to steep my tea with but I can put it in my mug and just let it sit for a few hours to steep in the sunlight. “This is incredible, Ranan.”
He pulls out two more packets, one large and flat, and when he opens it, I’m surprised to see a plain brown cloth of moderate weave. He’s got cloth already, all of it far superior to this new fabric. My confusion must show on my face. Ranan takes the fabric and pushes it into my grasp. “This fabric is ugly. If you must save the others, at least use this one.”
Oh. He noticed I was hesitant to use the fine silks. I’m even more touched. “This is wonderful, thank you.”
The final packet has…ribbons. Bright ribbons of multiple different colors. I touch one pale yellow strand that has a lovely green vine embroidered on it. “I…don’t understand. What are these for?”
His strange brow furrows. “For you. All of this is for you.”
I touch the ribbons with careful fingers, uncertain of what this means. Do I owe him a favor, perhaps? Are these wedding gifts or something else? Did I somehow communicate to him that I need ribbons?
At my hesitation, he speaks again. “The trader’s daughter said women like pretty things. That I should buy you ribbons. Did she lie to me?”
My lips part and I look up at him in surprise. “You…no. She didn’t lie to you. Thank you.”
“But you are not happy,” he points out.
“I am overwhelmed,” I admit. The covetous, greedy part of me wants to snatch up all the ribbons and pet them for hours. Underneath the yellow and green one is a ribbon in a shade of purple I’ve only seen in the skies, and another looks velvety soft. I’ve never owned such impractical things. Even as a child, before I was a slave, everything I owned was cut down from my mother’s things, and none of it was for simple beauty.
Yet Ranan has gone out of his way to get “human” food because I don’t like the thought of raw fish at the moment. He’s brought me cloth for me to use since the others are too fine. He’s brought me the tea I asked for…and now pretty nonsense ribbons that serve no purpose other than to delight.
No one has ever been so kind, and it scares me. I must not understand what this means. There is an unspoken message I am not understanding. “You did all of this…for me? Why?”
He almost looks offended by my question. “You are my wife.”
Is that the reason? That he has gone so far out of his way simply because I am his wife? It makes me wonder about his expectations. He has not looked at me with desire in his eyes once, and I worry there’s something wrong with me. That he feels stuck with me. “I thank you, Ranan. It was not my intent to make you feel unappreciated with your efforts. I am not used to such kindnesses.”
He says nothing. Simply watches me. When I figure he’s done speaking, I pick up the pouch of willow bark and sniff it, wondering how much I can put into my cup for a dose, and if we have enough fresh water to waste on tea. My waterskin is near empty and I don’t want to bother him for more simply for a cup of tea.
“We will be at my grotto soon. This afternoon.”
“We will?”
He nods. “I go there sometimes when I have goods to store, or when the weather is bad and I do not wish to spend time on Akara’s back.” He leans closer, studying me. “I made a bed for you there. I thought you might like to visit.”
Would I? I think I would love that more than anything right now. Someplace that’s not a tent on a turtle’s back sounds rather delightful…but I don’t want to seem ungrateful. “I’m fine here if it’s too much trouble.”
Ranan’s expression ices over. “Speak truth to me, Vali. I do not like your lies.”
Oh, gods. I’ve done it again. In trying to be accommodating, I’ve annoyed him. I reach out and grab one of his hands. “I would love to go see your cave,” I blurt out. “I’m not used to being asked my opinion, that’s all.”
He relaxes, and gazes down at our joined hands. Mine looks small against his, and I automatically twine our fingers. It’s the first time we’ve held hands…or touched voluntarily. No, I think back, we touched when he was teaching me to swim, but every other time he’s acted as if I am a wild animal meant to be skirted around but never approached. Yet he’s not taking his hand from mine right now. That’s a good thing, I think.