22. Byzantine Architecture #2
“I love it.”
“I’m glad. And I’m glad you’re okay.” Blush rose in his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “The others will be glad as well. Especially Orla. She’s been worried.”
“Where are they, anyway?” I glanced around the street as if they might be shopping nearby.
“At an inn, but the Ceremender said you shouldn’t sleep for a few hours. I thought we could walk around. Is there anything you’d like to do?”
“Yes. Food.” I could smell several options already, wafting from the carts of street vendors. Ciarán had my backpack, and he rifled through the contents and procured a strip of rabbit jerky. I wrinkled my nose at it. “I was hoping for something fresher.”
“This is fresh. I just caught it four days ago.”
“That’s impossible. It takes a long time to make meat into jerky.”
“In Keldori maybe. Here we have Skal, remember?”
“But now we also have money, right? Does Skalterra have burgers?”
“Burgers?”
“You know, hamburgers. Meat patty between buns with lettuce, onions, pickles, side of fries.”
“I’m not sure Skalterra has those, no.” He frowned. “But let me see what I can do.”
I walked with my head craned back so I could watch the colorful tapestries that passed overhead.
They were strung between buildings and over alleys, and the massive willow tree that sat at the center of the citadel gleamed in the spaces between.
Ciarán took my hand to better guide me through the sparse night crowds, and I let him, too focused on the strings of vines that swayed in the breeze high above us.
He must’ve washed while I was still unconscious, and Orla had picked him up some clean clothes as well. They were lighter than his usual dark garb, and with his eyes like this, I had to keep reminding myself that he wasn’t Liam.
“Why aren’t you glowing?” I asked suddenly, pointing to my own eyes.
His cheeks reddened, but he kept his eyes forward. “Northerners aren’t well liked because of the stories surrounding the Frozen God. I blend in better like this.”
“Oh.” I grabbed his hand, emboldened by the lightness of my head.
“Plus you seem to like it more.” He smirked.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” he crooned in my head.
I released his hand and swatted at his shoulder. “I’m getting used to your eyes.”
That was at least true. What I was less used to at this point was seeing Liam’s eyes on Ciarán’s face.
He led us down an alley and through the low door of a dark establishment that smelled like meat and spices. Candles on wooden tables lit the space in dusky, flickering light. I took a seat at an empty space in the corner while Ciarán spoke to a man at the counter.
The only other city in the Barony I’d been to had been the capital, Vanderfall. It had been bright with steamed Skal that ran from shop to shop, and while the citadel was just as busy at a late hour, the Baron’s iron-tight control over the Skal in her region was more obvious here.
The only light in the restaurant came from candles, and only a couple of the many patrons bothered to wear Skal goggles atop their heads whereas they’d seemed to be an essential accessory in the capital.
Ciarán fell into the seat opposite mine and pushed a streaming plate with two round buns towards me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A burger.” Ciarán held his hands out towards the food as if to show it off. “The meat isn’t a patty, but it is inside a bun with onions. No lettuce, I’m afraid, but there’s a pickle.”
He turned the plate so I could see the pickled cucumber on the side.
“Impressive.” I nodded.
“Rabbit jerky would’ve been cheaper.”
“We’ll need that when we’re traveling again.”
“I can catch another rabbit.”
“Oh, yes, because you are very good at catching. How many months did it take you to catch me this summer?”
“I was injured, and you aren’t a rabbit.”
“And you would’ve been dead if I hadn’t healed you.”
“Yes. The mystery skin mold. I remember all too vividly.” Ciarán scratched at his chest and reached for the other steamed bun.
“What are you doing?” I glared at him.
“Eating.”
“You have the rabbit jerky.”
“If you’re still hungry, we can buy another one. Or we can go find something sweeter.” The steam from the meat inside the bun swirled up around his face as he took a bite.
The pickle crunched in my mouth, and I leaned over the plate between us. “Sweeter? Like chocolate cake?”
“We have money, but not that much money.”
“How much could chocolate cake cost?”
“A lot. Chocolate is a rare delicacy in Skalterra.”
“Oh.” I sat back.
“Is chocolate cake your favorite?”
“No,” I said, finishing off the pickle and reaching for the rest of my steamed bun. “But you like it. Or, I guess, Liam did.”
“Right.”
That “mercurial sense of whimsy” fled, and silence settled over our table. I shoved more of my meat bun into my mouth, hoping that might take the edge off the quiet.
Ciarán cleared his throat. “Also, now that you’re properly awake, I wanted to say sorry about your friend.”
I cocked my head at him, and with a mouthful of food, I asked through the tether, “What friend?”
He blushed. “The girl that Ferrin turned rotsbane.”
“Oh.” My food turned ashy, and I forced myself to swallow it. “She wasn’t my friend anymore. It’s okay.”
“It’s okay she turned into a rotsbane?”
“No! I just meant—” I cut off and rubbed at my temples. “I hated her. She was horrible to me, and she’s the reason I can’t stand to be in the woods. I told you all about it once when you were still Liam, but it doesn’t matter. She’s dead now. Or worse. She didn’t deserve what Ferrin did.”
“With any luck, Ferrin is dead too,” Ciarán assured me. I grimaced, and he sighed. “What, you think he survived that?”
“We did.”
“We have an onchú.”
“And he’s Ferrin.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t really remember much.”
This conversation had taken a depressing turn, and Ciarán must’ve thought so too, because he stood up forcefully.
“Right,” he announced with sudden conviction. “Chocolate cake. There’s bound to be some somewhere in Willow’s Grave.”
“It’ll be cheaper if we wait until Keldori,” I said. “You’ve got seventeen dollars in Liam’s wallet. You could afford tons of cake in Keldori with that.”
“I’m not waiting for Keldori and neither are you. Come on.”