CHAPTER NINE
WILLIAM
The morning came cold and still.
The barracks were already stirring when I opened my eyes. Metal clanked against metal. Boots scuffed the floor. Voices ros and fell. The familiar smell of oil leather hung in the air, though it still hadn’t settled into comfort.
My bed was in the far corner, away from the noise. Straw mattress, thin blanket, enough to sleep, nothing more.
I sat up slowly, careful with my shoulder. The bandage itched beneath my tunic.
Elara’s work.
She’d wrapped it clean and tight, warning me not to strain it for a few days. I’d agreed, though I already knew I’d break that promise before noon.
The pain was dull, manageable, but the thought of tearing it open again made me curse under my breath.
Across the room, Eric was already up. Blond hair sticking up in every direction, armor half strapped, grinning like he’d won a battle before dawn.
“Morning, sir,” he said, fastening his belt. “I was starting to
“Morning, sir,” he said, fastening his belt. “I was starting to think you died in your sleep.”
“Not yet,” I muttered, pulling on my boots.
I reached for my sword, slinging it over my shoulder. The weight pulled at the wound, sharp enough to make me wince.
Eric noticed. “You all right?”
“Fine,” I said. “Just need to be careful.”
He nodded toward my shoulder. “The healer’s bandages holding up?”
I hesitated. “They are.” My hands moved on the leather strap while my mind kept going to the steady press of the cloth on my skin. Elara’s face slipped into my head and the way she spoke, and the calm in her hands. The memory stayed longer than I had any right to let it.
Eric didn’t notice. He was too busy talking, too full of energy for the hour. “Captain said we ride north,” he said. “The farms near the ridge. There’s talk of unrest. Nothing serious, probably some drunk men shouting about taxes.”
“Probably,” I replied, but the words were thin. My thoughts were elsewhere. I pictured the men who’d ambushed me with their blades. I promised myself if I ever saw them again I would make them regret it. The oath felt hot in my chest.
Still, a part of me acknowledged another truth I did not want to
admit. If they had not followed me that night, I would have never been in a healer’s tent. I would never have felt her hand steady on my shoulder. I would not have known she worked behind these quiet stone walls, close enough for me to see her again. The
thought came with an odd twist of gratitude I could not swallow whole.
Eric clapped me on the arm, jolting me back to the barracks. “You ready?”
I nodded.
We went to the armory. The air smelled of oil and iron. Men were already strapping on armor, buckles snapping, blades sliding into scabbards.
I took my breastplate from the rack and set it against my chest. The weight settled familiar, a kind of reassurance I could understand. Eric fastened his straps beside me, humming something off-key.
When I finished buckling the belts, we crossed the courtyard toward the stables. The mist was lifting, thin threads of it curling above the walls. The sky was pale and washed in light.
Corven waited by the fence. His black coat shone faintly with dew, his breath coming out in small clouds. I reached for his bridle, running a hand down his neck. He was warm and solid beneath my palm.
“Morning, boy,” I said quietly.
He tossed his head once, impatient as always. I slid the saddle into place and tightened the girth.
Eric mounted first, his blond hair catching the light. “Let’s see if these farms are really as restless as the captain says.”
I climbed into my saddle and settled the reins. “If not, at least it’s a ride.”
He laughed, turning his horse toward the gate.
The drawbridge creaked as it lowered, the sound of chains cutting through the morning mist. Guards moved aside, their armor glinting faintly in the pale light.
Eric rode first, his horse tossing its head as it stepped onto the road. I followed, guiding Corven forward. His hooves struck against the stone, then fell into a steady rhythm as we reached the dirt path beyond the walls.
Behind us, the towers faded into fog until only their shapes were left in the distance. The fields ahead stretched wide and quiet beneath a pale sky. The road curved north through the open land like a faint scar.
Neither of us spoke for a long while. The sound of hooves and wind filled the space between us. The rhythm of it steadied me more than I expected.
The northern farms waited ahead, and I tried to keep my thoughts on the task. Still, my mind wandered. I remembered the healer’s wing and the firelight moving across the stone walls. I could almost hear her voice again, calm and careful as she worked.
When I returned, I told myself I might walk that corridor again. Only to see if she was there. Only to be sure she was real.
I told myself it would only be curiosity. Nothing more.
Still, as the wind shifted, I knew I was already lying to myself.