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)
I fight back the urge to cry. So much for hiding it. “Aye, it’s my menses. Please don’t toss me onto shore and leave me behind.”
He grabs my hands and pries them away from my hot face. “I am not a monster. I am not abandoning you. Understand?”
I bite my lip…and then whimper when a fierce round of cramps sets in. I manage a nod. “Th-thank you.”
Ranan leans back, two of his hands still on my knees, and gazes down at my body. “How long does this last?”
Is he asking because he doesn’t know about women, or is it because the women of his people don’t bleed like this? If so, that makes things worse. His human wife is a bleeder. “It should pass in about five days.”
Rubbing his mouth, he gently closes my legs again. I immediately snap my thighs together and turn on my side, curling into a ball.
“You are in pain,” he points out.
“Cramps. They’re worst the first two days.”
“What do you require from me? How can I help?”
Part of me wishes he would go away, because I just want to be left alone. I’m not used to someone paying attention to my cramps, much less offering to help out. I wrap an arm around my belly and shrug. “Willow bark tea? If you have that, it helps with the aching.”
“I have none.” He rubs his jaw. “Tell me what this tree looks like and I will try to find it.”
“I genuinely don’t know. I bought it from the apothecary. It’s fine. Thank you for offering.” I reach out and pat one of his hands. “If it’s all the same, I’m going to sleep through the worst of it if I can.”
He blinks at me, gaze somber, and nods. “Do you require food? Drink?”
I shake my head. “The thought of raw fish is nauseating right now. I’ll be fine. Truly. It’s like this every month.”
Ranan’s mouth flattens. He gets to his feet and abandons me without saying a word.
It’s not the worst round of cramps I’ve had, but it’s up there. I’m tired and thirsty and sore, but I don’t have the energy to get up from the bottom of the tent and find a waterskin. I doze instead, and when I wake up, my lips are dry and chapped and the cloth between my thighs is soaked. Ugh. I rub a hand over my face, wondering if I should go to the water’s edge and rinse it, or if that’s a bad idea.
As if my thoughts summon him, Ranan steps inside the tent. He’s got a wet trunk with him the size of a barrel and sets it down in front of me. “I brought you cloth.”
“You did?” I sit up, touched at his efforts. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You are hurting and feel unwell,” he says simply. “If this will help, I will do it.”
It won’t fix my cramps, but I’ll definitely feel better cleaned up. I watch as he pulls out a knife and breaks the wax seal around the edges of the trunk, something I’ve never seen before. It’s to make it waterproof, I realize. A trunk full of sodden fabric would be twice as heavy and likely ruined, too. He opens the trunk and grabs the first bolt of fabric and offers it to me.
My jaw drops. I touch the delicately embroidered silk, a cloth that’s probably worth more than Lady Parness’s entire castle. “I can’t use this.”
“It is dry—”
I shake my head before he can finish. “It’s too fine. Too beautiful. I’d ruin it.”
“It’s just fabric.” He glares at me.
“And you’re ‘just’ like a human man, right?”
Ranan huffs, amused by my comparison. “Very well, then.”
He digs deeper into the trunk and pulls out another fabric this time, this one a rich green brocade with gold thread shot through it. I decline again, and we go through the trunk of fabrics, all of them more beautiful than I ever imagined, and finally go with a dark, elegant, burgundy linen, as it seems the best choice. I hold the fabric and it’s the softest linen I’ve ever touched, with little white flowers sewn onto the edges. It feels wrong, yet I’ve no other choice. I worry that if I keep turning down Ranan’s thoughtful gifts, he’ll get annoyed and decide to get rid of me after all.
“Thank you,” I tell him, clutching the fabric to my chest and managing a smile. I decide I don’t care how stained the fabric gets. I’m keeping this and making a dress out of it and it’ll still be the finest thing I’ve ever owned. I pet the soft linen and ignore how my callused fingers catch against it.
He watches me for a moment and then turns, pulling a satchel off his shoulder. “I brought more.”
“More fabric?”