The Seer Rowan McAllister (top inspirational books .TXT) 📖

continued, “I’m going to leave you the bucket and the rest. Use it however you like while I go get the bedding they offered. I’ll be back in a little while, and you can hand over the clothes or not… up to you.”

Once he’d gone, Ravi finished the last of his meal and then gladly availed himself of the warm water and soap. Such things were a luxury in Arcadia. Ordinarily, they washed in sea water or cold well water if they were willing to risk it, and not at all in winter. The air was still cold enough he was shivering by the time he pulled on the clean borrowed clothes, and he moved closer to the lamp Daks had left, if only for the little bit of warmth it shed. His cloak had several new tears in it and the hem was caked in dirt, further tempting him to hand it off to someone else and hope they could work a miracle on it, especially now that his full stomach was making him sleepy.

The sound of footsteps jerked his attention away from the sorry cloth in his lap in time to see Daks suddenly come to a halt at the edge of the lamplight. The man held an inordinately large stack of brown wool bundles in his thick arms, but it was his expression that caught and held Ravi’s gaze. Daks stood as if frozen, gaping at Ravi like he’d never seen him before. Ravi supposed this might have been the first time the man had seen him fully without his cloak, but that was hardly worthy of the wide-eyed stare he was receiving. The only really noteworthy feature he had were his eyes, and Daks had seen them plenty of times by now.

“What?” Ravi asked, shifting self-consciously.

Daks blinked and cleared his throat. “Uh, I guess I didn’t realize your hair had so much red in it. You, uh, look different.”

Ravi really wanted to ask if “different” meant good, but he bit his tongue. He didn’t care what this man thought about how he looked. He didn’t care what anyone thought as long as they left him alone.

“Those blankets for me?” he asked instead, since his wet hair seemed to be sucking what little warmth he had out through the top of his head without his cloak.

“Yeah,” Daks replied, crossing the space between them and moving to one of the small stalls made of rough-cut boards beyond. “They said we could put down as much straw as we want to sleep on.”

As Ravi watched him pull a knife from somewhere inside his clothes and cut the ties binding a bale together, his words sank in and Ravi frowned. “We?”

Daks just kept working. He lifted another bale into the stall and cut it open, before raking the hay into two sizable, oval mounds.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Ravi said finally, but Daks merely grunted.

“I should be safe enough on my own,” he tried again.

“Mmhmm.”

Ravi had to stifle a yawn even as he narrowed his eyes. He shouldn’t have eaten so much.

Daks shook out one of the cloth bundles and laid the blanket over one pile of straw before doing the same for the other, while Ravi continued to fidget. Daks would be warmer, more comfortable, and probably happier inside with the others.

“Put this on,” Daks said, shoving another bundle at him. “Have you decided about your clothes?”

Fighting another yawn, Ravi shrugged and looked away, embarrassed. “I guess it’s okay if they want to see what they can do with them,” he muttered reluctantly.

With another vaguely affirmative grunt, Daks collected the pile of clothing Ravi had taken off, rolled it up, and tucked it under an arm before turning to leave. “I’ll be back with something hot to drink and some more food,” he called over his shoulder as the darkness beyond the lamplight swallowed him.

Ravi stared after him for several moments, worrying his lower lip before he finally looked down at the bundle of cloth he held. The heavy greenish-brown wool turned out to be a cloak. Like the other borrowed clothes, it wasn’t new, but it was comfortingly thick and free of holes, stains, or patches. He slung it over his shoulders, pulled up the hood, and nestled into it with a happy sigh. For tonight at least, he’d be warm. And the deep hood made him feel safe from prying eyes, even if a part of him had actually enjoyed the way Daks had been looking at him.

By the time Daks returned with two steaming clay mugs, Ravi had already buried himself beneath the heavy blankets on one pile of straw, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open. He propped himself on an elbow and accepted the mug he was offered with a muffled “Thank you,” before sipping at the herbal mixture heavily sweetened with honey. He let out another happy sigh at the warmth seeping into his hands as he watched Daks settle into the other makeshift bed over the rim of his mug. The tea was helping to revive him a little, but the need for sleep still weighed heavily on his eyelids. The longer the silence between them stretched, the more Ravi squirmed inside his cocoon.

“Do you think it’s safe for me to sleep here, this close to town?” he finally asked, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

“I think you need sleep. We all do.”

Ravi studied Daks’s face from the concealment of his hood as his full belly, soft bed, and honeyed tea made him a little dreamy-eyed. The man wasn’t exactly unattractive. The warm, flickering light from the oil lamp smoothed some of the harsher edges of his face and softened his roguish appearance. Now that someone had finally taken a brush to his unruly mane, Ravi wondered how soft it would feel under his fingers.

He clenched the mug tighter in his hands. Clearing his throat, he asked, “What if I Dream? Will they know? Will I