Fortune's Fool - Mercedes Lackey [54]
But Sasha just smiled. “I know, good hostess,” he said softly. “And I will make no vows of undying love. Never and Forever are not words for mortals to use. But I will love her as truly as I can and as long as it is given to me to do so, and I hope I shall never hurt her, either by accident nor deliberately,”
The sense of portent faded. The feeling of great power looming turned into the feeling of great power shuffling off, disappointed. The innkeeper’s wife laughed. “Well said, Prince. We need no tragic spirits here. We were long in laying to rest the last one.” She smiled, and her eyebrows rose until they disappeared beneath the rim of her kerchief. “Now go take your sea-bride to the chamber next to yours and I will have Boyra bring your things to the new room.” She winked. “If you choose to anticipate the wedding, well, so has half this village. I think you will find the bed to your liking.”
Katya found herself blushing, and in her confusion almost overlooked something. Then as Sasha started to turn, she blinked. “How do you know what I am?” she demanded.
The innkeeper’s wife smiled. “And who do you think is the witch of this village? I know a seabride when I smell her. You have the scent of the ocean clinging to you, and always will.” She made a shooing motion. “Off with you, and I shall see to it that dinner is taken to you. I think you will not want to trouble yourselves with the stares of the company, who will suddenly see the lone minstrel with a lovely maiden that none of us know.”
Laughing, Sasha tugged on Katya’s hand, and nothing loathe, she followed him.
He lit a spill at the lantern in the hall, and opened a door as a boy clattered up the stairs behind them. Holding the flame over his head, Sasha located the candle and went to light it as Katya stood just inside the door and to one side, waiting for her eyes to adjust.
It was, by the standards of any inn she had ever been in, a good room. There was a large window, just now shuttered closed, two blanket chests, and a perfectly enormous curtained bed. A moment later the boy came clattering in—he was an extraordinarily noisy child—burdened with what must be Sasha’s things. There were two bulging saddlebags, the balalaika case, and what looked to be a flute box, plus a fine cloak and a rain hat made of oiled leather with a broad brim. He put all these things down atop one of the blanket chests and clattered out again. Before Katya could so much as breathe a word, one of the serving girls from below came up with a laden tray, her footsteps lighter than a sylph’s compared to the boy’s. This she set down on top of the other blanket chest, curtsied to Sasha, and slipped out again.
Sasha closed the door and pulled the latch-string out.
“Well,” he said. “This is certainly a step up from my old room. Our hostess must favor you, belochka.”
She blushed at the word beloved and shook her head. “I think it’s you she favors,” she said instead, and unable to resist, sidled over to the bed.
In all her life she had never slept in a bed like this one.
With heavy curtains on three sides for privacy and warmth in winter, it would easily sleep four. It had a fine bearskin coverlet, four fat pillows, and the plumpness suggested a wonderful soft featherbed beneath the coverlet.
“Hmm,” said Sasha, from behind her. “Our hostess has sent us things that are all good cold.” He came up behind her and put his arms around her. “So shall we test out the bed?” he breathed in her ear.
“Perhaps.” She slipped out of his embrace. Then slowly, deliberately, she unfastened her wide leather belt and dropped it behind her. With a tantalizing smile, she plucked at the drawstring to her skirt and untied it, letting the skirt drop to pool around her ankles, until she kicked it aside. Pulling at the drawstring of the neck of her blouse and loosening it, a moment later it,