The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [60]
I hear you, Sword Master.
‘Get some rest tonight, Rosette,’ he said aloud, swimming to the steps. ‘It’s time to put you to work.’
‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘I will.’ Her mind started to spin with excitement. What did he mean?
He was ascending the stairs, water running off his bronzed back and his fingertips. His body was sculpted with rippling muscles etched with myriad tattoos. Her mouth formed a circle shape but she didn’t speak.
‘And, Rosette.’ He paused midway up the steps. ‘I’m the Sword Master, not a god. You can say anything to me that you like.’
She snapped her mouth shut and didn’t reply. How much of my mental clatter-nat did he pick up?
She listened to the pad of his bare feet as he made his way to the exit. The huge wooden doors shut with a reverberating thud. She let out her breath, realising she’d held it in. Pushing away hair that clung to her face, she leaned back, staring up into the dark space above her.
‘Now that’s an attractive man,’ she whispered.
She tucked her chin down and blew bubbles in the water. Their first conversation since arriving hadn’t been like she’d imagined. It was actually quite peculiar, like a dream.
Taking another deep breath, Rosette swam to the steps and got a scoop of salt grains. She went wild with them, scrubbing her body. She immersed herself completely and then floated on her back—only her nose, forehead and toes peeking above the dark surface. The water buoyed her up in a loving embrace. Mesmerised by the rushing sounds beneath her, she kicked slowly back to the steps. It was getting late—time to head home.
One more thing, Rosette.
She startled as the Sword Master’s voice boomed in her head. I’m listening.
Braid your hair for tomorrow.
Rosette saw the message tacked to her cottage door before she reached the porch. It shone in the lamplight, a small slip of paper pierced by a copper nail. Pulling the towel off her shoulders, she took the steps in two strides. She examined the seal before tucking the note in her pocket. Mistress Mara had paid her a visit. What tasks could she have for her at this hour? She’d said to get a good night’s sleep, not work until dawn.
Yawning, Rosette smiled as Drayco appeared from nowhere. She forgot sometimes that he was a superb predator, adept at camouflage. He leapt the steps and pushed his head into her hand. She sank her fingers deep into his plush coat.
‘Did you see Mara, my black hunter?’
Yes, and another. He purred, his words forming inside Rosette’s mind like waves on a tropical shore, cresting, rushing up and receding. It was the closest thing to a mental caress she’d ever experienced.
‘You’re in a pleasant mood tonight,’ she said as he arched his back against her bare thigh, tail entwining her waist.
Yes.
‘Who else came by?’ She continued to stroke the top of his head. ‘Another mistress?’
No other mistress.
‘Clay?’ she smiled. ‘You can say his name, you know.’
Drayco hadn’t taken much to Clay. He wouldn’t say his name and he wouldn’t explain why. Not him.
She roughed his back vigorously. ‘Are you going to tell me or is this a guessing game?’
Is there milk?
‘Of course.’
The Sword Master came.
Chills rushed down Rosette’s back. An’ Lawrence had come here? ‘With Mistress Mara?’ she pressed.
He came after. The purring increased. Could we possibly see to the milk now?
Rosette tousled the temple cat’s head then pulled her hand back when he reared and took a playful swipe. ‘Yes, yes. Come inside and we’ll both have some warm milk and honey.’
Honey tastes like tree sap.
‘I like it.’ Rosette laughed as her familiar mimed what could only be a cat trying to get peanut paste out of its mouth. ‘Plain milk for you, of course.’
Thank you.
She unlaced her boots and lined them up by the door before entering her sanctuary. It smelled of herbs and scented candles, leather and polished wood. She gave the place a blessing as she crossed the threshold and lit the nearest candle. A warm glow filled the room.