"Pardon me?" Nason blinked.

  The woman moved away, striking a match to light the lantern, illuminating the cottage once more. This stranger was beautiful. She had long, curly black hair held in a braid over her shoulder, along with a prominent streak of white. Her eyes were a sharp, mesmerizing green, and her ears were most definitely pointed. This woman stood above him, one hand resting casually on the dagger strapped to her lower thigh. That kind of casualness was only held by the skilled and the arrogant, and this woman did not strike Nason as arrogant.

  "The name's Darsel." She extended a hand.

  "Uh-huh, and you're a . . ." Nason accepted her hand, and Darsel pulled him to his feet.

  "Nymph. I'm truly surprised that you didn't recognize that instantly. Wars don't start over nothing. I know your big brain is buzzing with questions, but they can wait until morning. I swear I will answer anything you ask, but sleep now."

  Nason, who was no stranger to authoritative women, only nodded. If this mystery of a woman killed him in his sleep, he wouldn't care. He went over to the small cot and lay down, discarding his satchel and sword on the floor beside him. He was asleep instantly.

  When Nason next regained consciousness, the flowers outside the cottage had changed to a beautiful golden as Nason rubbed his eyes. Darsel was sitting in the rocking chair, having let her hair down. The wild white streak only made her look more badass as she peeled the end of a stick with her knife.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Are you . . . whittling a spear?" Asked Nason, urging his sleepy brain to catch up with the rest of his body.

  "It's more proactive than knitting." Replied Darsel, re-sheathing the weapon.

  Nason could understand that, he supposed. He stood, smothering a yawn. Darsel had gone silent, watching Nason with surprised eyes. Nason's hair came well past his knees, making it a very long, curly red mess. he kept it pinned up in a tight bun, but it had come out while he slept. Nason barely noticed it anymore.

  "Hold your tounge." He cast a sideways glance at Darsel, who smirked.

  Nason truly wasn't in the mood to begin the tedious process of brushing his hair. Tanin typically helped with the upkeep of it, but Nason clearly couldn't rely on him anymore. That thought seeped the slight amusement he had felt. As if she had Nason's thoughts, Darsel spoke up.

  "May I offer help while I answer you questions?"

  "I would appreciate that. Thank you."

  Nason sat her feet, feeling, for all the world, like a child once more. Darsel's fingers moved with a practiced ease as she spoke.

  "As I previously stated last night, I'm your Protector. All that means is that I made a promise to Cedric many years ago that I would keep an eye on you."

  "Great Uncle Cedric knew of me all those years ago? I find that difficult to believe." Nason subconisulsly leaned into Darsel's gentle touch.

  "Believe it. You were all Cedric spoke up. He adored you decades before you were even born."

  "You speak of my Great Uncle as if you knew him well?"

  "I knew him very well." She replied.

  Nason recognized the wistfulness in Darsel's Voice, having heard it from many people for the majority of his life.

  "Did you love him?"

  "Terribly."