Page 5 of Gold & Shadow

Liar, said an uncomfortably truthful voice inside me.He didn’t ask you to steal from him.I ignored the voice, trying to think how I might charm the shifter into letting down his guard around me for however long I would be here. Based on the storm, maybe a day or two if he was serious about dragging me home.

The shifter grunted, skirting past the sofa where I lay and moving toward the small kitchen. His feet padded on the wooden floorboard quietly, and I wondered if he was barefoot despite the cold. The toes of my exposed foot were freezing.

“You lost a lot of blood,” the shifter called, the sounds of something clattering that I couldn’t see over the back of the sofa. “You need to eat.” He came back around the couch with a wooden bowl, possibly the same one I had used the night before. “Here.”

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the bowl and expecting to find more stew. I frowned at the mushy brown substance in the bowl. “What is it?”

“Porridge,” the shifter said as if this were obvious.

I tasted the porridge hesitantly, expecting another eye roll from the shifter. It was warm and thick and bland, not unpleasant but not particularly enjoyable. It felt like it stuck to my very bones as I swallowed it. I bet it would taste divine with brown sugar, or maybe with some salt, but I didn’t feel like I should push my luck.

“What’s your name?” grunted the shifter, watching me eat as if studying a creature of prey.

“Lis,” I replied, trying to hide a grimace on a mouthful of mush. “Melisande, actually, but only my oldest sister calls me that. I’m just ‘Lis’ to everyone else.”

“Lis,” the shifter said, testing out the name like he couldn’t decide what he thought of it.

“How do you wear spectacles as a bear?” I asked, my mind still jumping all over the place.

“You talk a lot,” the shifter said, scowling at the question.

I choked on a laugh. “And you talk very little,” I retorted, feeling irritated by the shifter’s gruff manner. “What’s your name?”

“My name is unimportant,” he replied, still scowling at me.

“I told you mine,” I pointed out indignantly. “If I’m staying here, shouldn’t I at least know your name?”

“You broke in,” the shifter replied, raising a brow at me. “You’re entitled to nothing.”

“Is this some strange shifter custom?” I asked, putting the spoon down to study the male. I thought I had read something once about fae names having power. Maybe shifters were the same. “A superstition about names?”

“No,” the shifter replied, his brow somehow climbing higher. “This is about me not giving my personal information to a thief.”

“Gods,” I sighed, taking another bite of the bland mush. “I already told you, I wasn’t stealing,” I lied, trying to frown as if affronted.

“You stole my stew,” the shifter pointed out. “And my bed.”

”Iborrowedthe bed,“ I corrected. “And if it’s such an insult, I will pay you back for the stew. Or I’ll make more stew. I’m fairly good with a dagger.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to hunt in a blizzard with only one working leg,” the shifter deadpanned. His brown eyes sparkled warmly, almost as if he were amused. “And I can see that you are overflowing with wealth.”

I scowled, feeling self-conscious about my tattered cloak and worn trousers. The shifter clearly had some wealth. The cabinwasn’t ostentatious, but it was comfortably appointed. A blush crept unbidden to my cheeks, and the shifter’s face softened.

“Forget the stew,” he said, taking my bowl and returning to the kitchen. I heard water running and assumed he must be washing it. He returned, pulling another blanket from a basket and dropping it over my bare toes as if he could tell they were cold. “I’ll think of another way for you to repay me.”

“If you’re going to demand repayment,” I said, feeling warmth sinking back into my toes, “then you can at least tell me your name.”

The shifter’s beard twitched, and I thought I had maybe won a smile. “Orson,” he grunted. “Now rest.”

I didn’t even have time to test his name out before he was striding away, his form changing to that of a bear as he barreled out the front door and into the freezing wind.

Chapter 4

Orson was gone most of the day.

I must have been more injured than I thought because I drifted in and out of sleep, the crackling of the fire and cozy blankets helping dull the aching in my ankle and ribs.

I didn’t know much about shifters, but based on Orson’s question about my healing, they must heal rapidly like full-bloodedelves.