24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
M orning comes much quicker than I’d like.
But then again, I’ve never been good at delaying the inevitable. Knowing that something will cause me discomfort has always made me run toward it headfirst. If only to be done with it sooner. So when dawn comes, I’m the first one up and dressed. Savell and Asheros are next, then Kheldryn, with Gryska and Ronan being the last to rub the sleep from their eyes.
Before we depart, Orim prepares a mouth-watering spread. Poached eggs, seared ham, buttered toast. There’s enough to feed a whole squadron of the Guard .
We huddle around Arella’s small table with Asheros, Savell, Ronan, and I standing as we eat. I let the flavors sit on my tongue, chewing slowly. Thoughtfully. This may be our last hot meal for gods know how long.
I’d rather not think about it.
“Eat up,” Orim says, using the spoon to gesture to the food. Glancing at Arella, he adds, “We’re leaving today as well.”
“Good.” Asheros nods, swallowing a bite of toast. “The sooner you two arrive at your family manor, the better.”
Orim narrows his eyes, tightness playing at his jaw. “Agreed.”
Asheros is silent for a moment. All eyes watch him, waiting for him to speak.
And he does.
“You likely won’t arrive at the manor until after we’ve reached Illnamoor. We will send word to you once the red-eyed male has been… dealt with.”
Orim’s movements slow. The entire room seems weighed down, heavy with the anticipation of what’s to come. The truth is none of us know what waits for us at Illnamoor. Or what will follow if we fail.
But I’d rather not think about that, either.
Placing my dirty plate at the end of the table, I back away from the others and turn toward the rear-facing window. Someone approaches me, and I stiffen involuntarily.
“It’s just me,” Asheros says softly, holding up his palms. “ Are you all right?”
Inhaling, I nod. “I’m all right. Just… Ready to get this over with.” I look up at him, meeting his eyes. “And you?”
“Same,” he replies. “I’m eager to put this behind us.”
“I’d imagine you are,” I say, though my voice is heavier than I’d intended.
“Lymseia,” he starts, but pauses, seeming unsure of himself. “After this is over…” He closes his mouth, brows furrowed.
Arching a brow, I cock my head. “Yes?”
“Would you—” he stammers, looking flustered. “Once we’ve dealt with Vorr’s murderer, where do you see yourself?”
“Back at High Keep with the Guard.” My answer is confident. There’s nowhere else I’ve ever felt like I belonged. When he doesn’t respond, I wait a moment, studying his mixed expression. “What about you?”
“I…” Running a hand through his hair, his gaze moves past me, mouth curved into a frown. “I see my future much differently now.”
I want to ask what he means, but he doesn’t give me the opportunity.
Raising his head, he flashes me a forced smile. “If you’ll excuse me.” Spinning around on his heels, he makes his way across the room, busying himself with one of our packs. He pulls Savell aside, and the two discuss something in hushed whispers.
Stunned, I stare in his direction he. The regret rising into my chest parts my lips.
Gods-damn it.
I don’t know what, but I’ve said something wrong.
Rubbing my forehead, I direct my attention to the stack of dirty dishes. I pick them up and carry them to the wash basin where Arella scrubs silverware. I can’t think about Asheros’s feelings at the moment. Not when I can barely wrestle my own.
“Need help?” I ask, anxious to do something with my hands.
Seeming startled, Arella looks up at me, wide-eyed. She steps to the side, making room for me. “Yes, thank you.”
I pick up a rag and dip it in the wash basin, soaking it in the soapy water. Taking a breath to clear my mind, I begin to rub in circular motions across the surface of the plate.
Arella stifles a giggle.
Frowning, I turn to her. “What?”
“It’s just that, well, you scrub well for a… you know, a noble fae.” She looks away sheepishly, red staining her cheeks. “I didn’t think you’d know how.”
The hint of a smile tugs at my lips, and I shake my head slightly, rolling my eyes. “Yes, I know how to wash dishes.” I rinse off the plate and pick up another. “I’ll have you know that the Guard’s trainees do chores. They say it builds character, work ethic, and the like.”
Arella smiles at me, seemingly amused by the thought of soldiers in training washing dishes. “That’s why the new recruits worked in the kitchens?”
“Yes,” I say, as if that’s obvious. “Why else would they be washing dishes?”
She shrugs, mouth still spread into a grin. “I always thought it was because they’d gotten into trouble.”
I laugh now, too. “That was part of it.”
“Did you ever get reprimanded while you were a trainee?” she asks, curious brown eyes peering over at me.
“Once,” I admit, my smile growing wider.
“What did you do?” Arella leans forward.
“Oh, I’d love to hear this story,” an airy, masculine voice adds.
My heart swells in my chest, knowing Asheros has joined us even before I glance over my shoulder to look at him. “Well…” I pause, chuckling to myself. “It might surprise you to know this, but once upon a time, I was very bad at turning down a challenge.”
A rich laugh tumbles from Asheros’s soft lips. “Come now, Bladesinger. That’s supposed to surprise me?”
Pulling my dripping hands from the wash basin, I give his shoulder a shove, leaving wet hand marks on his fine shirt. But he only grins, his expression looking lighter than it had moments ago.
“Fine, fine,” I say, holding my hands up in surrender. “Perhaps I still am. Anyhow, a fellow recruit dared me to sneak into Ceren’s chambers, take her sword—while still in its sheath, mind you—and hang it outside the castle in a place where it could be seen from the outdoor training grounds.”
Arella pauses. Lowering the forks she’s washing, she gapes at me while Asheros just shakes his head, mouth parted with amusement.
“So, I did it. One night, after everyone had gone to bed, I slipped into Ceren’s bed chamber while she was sleeping. Her sword is her most prized possession, you see, and she kept it in her room with her.”
I’m smiling now, the fondness of the memory shining through the worry knotted between my shoulders. “I’ve never tip-toed so quietly in my whole life. Never been that afraid of being caught, either. But I made it in and out of her room without her noticing, and I practically sprinted to the training grounds after that.”
Asheros’s demeanor shifts, amusement giving way to something else underneath, something tender.
Something that only exists between our gazes.
“I used two daggers to climb the castle wall.” The memory of how the night air felt on my skin brings me back to that moment all those years ago. “And when I’d climbed high enough, I hung the sheath from a piece of hooked stone beneath one of the windows.”
Adding a clean plate to the stack forming beside me, I continue. “The next morning, Ceren was absolutely furious. You should have seen her face. It was the angriest I’ve ever seen her. She ordered us to stand in formation, and she came down, row by row, one by one, demanding the culprit come forward.”
“Did you tell her what you’d done?” Arella asks, fully invested in my story.
“Nope.” Pride rolls from me, and I puff out my chest. “I kept a straight face when she stopped in front of me. She wouldn’t have known it was me if the person who dared me to do it hadn’t come clean about it.”
“Good gods,” Arella murmurs, redirecting her attention to the wash basin. “I’d have confessed the moment I took the sword.” Her brows furrow. “What was your punishment?”
“Stable duty for two months,” I tell her. “Two months of shoveling horse shit.”
Arella wrinkles her nose. “Was it even worth it?”
I grin. “Absolutely.”
As I finish washing the plates, I feel Asheros’s gaze linger on me.
“Very well,” I say, turning around. The light tone of my voice fades, giving way to my renewed focus. “Are we ready to depart?”
Asheros scans the room, and then dips his head to me, his demeanor matching my own. “We are.”
“Good.” I take a breath to clear my mind of worry. “Let’s move out.”
I t’s been nearly two days since we departed from Esvelon, and for the duration of our journey thus far, Asheros has been unusually quiet. No witty remarks. No smirks or wicked humor.
Nothing.
I can’t help but replay our last encounters in my mind, searching for the catalyst that’s to blame for this change in him. Perhaps it’s merely the stress of what’s to come.
Or maybe, something’s different between us. The last night we spent in Esvelon, I was…
Vulnerable.
Raw.
Emotional.
He seemed to welcome my candor, but perhaps I read him wrong. Then there was that odd discussion the following morning. The more that I reflect on it, the more the question he asked strikes a chord in my chest.
“Once we’ve dealt with Vorr’s murderer, where do you see yourself?”
At the time, I hadn’t picked up on what he was truly asking. What was hidden beneath the simple question. I’d answered so quickly, too quickly, that I hadn’t paid much attention.
Of course, everything is clear in hindsight. He’d been trying to ask me if I saw a future with him. And, like the brute that I am, I ignored it. He must think I don’t want him. That I don’t share his feelings .
Taking a breath, I loosen my jaw. I need to talk to him.
Alone.
Lightly gripping the reins, Asheros’s gaze is focused on the road ahead. He sits in front of me, so I’m met with the back of his head, unable to see his face.
Adjusting my position, I lean forward to get his attention.
He pretends not to notice, but I see the way his brows lift. “I’d like to speak with you when we make camp.” I try to level my tone. “Alone.”
“Is it something urgent?” Asheros asks, feigning concern. Amusement flickers in those diamond-irises, and relief lessens the weight in my chest.
“Quite urgent,” I reply, playing into his charade. “This is a matter that can’t wait.”
“Oh, really now?” he muses, mouth tugged into that familiar grin.
“Indeed,” I say, with a youthful poke to his shoulder.
“How convenient for you that we’ll be stopping to make camp in a few hours,” he teases. But despite the smile playing at his mouth, worry underlines his expression.
Is he afraid I’m going to reject his feelings toward me?
Wrinkling my nose, I give him a pretend frown. “You say that like a few hours is sometime soon.”
“So impatient, Bladesinger,” he says, mirroring my expression.
I can’t help but chuckle.
The sound of hooves clacking against cobblestone has us turning our heads. Behind us, Savell urges his mount faster, until his horse trots alongside ours.
The humor immediately fades from Asheros’s expression, hard lines forming at his mouth. “What is it?”
“There’s been a development,” Savell says, a sense of urgency lacing his tone. “There’s word of a red-eyed male who’s been spotted near Lyndhaven.”
“Lyndhaven?” I echo. Lyndhaven is a small town situated between Esvelon and Illnamoor, though it’s slightly farther north than both.
So he is traveling to Illnamoor.
Furrowing my brows, I narrow my eyes at Savell. “How do you know this?”
“At Asheros’s request, I’ve asked my contacts throughout the realm to be on the lookout for a hooded, red-eyed male,” he says simply. “One near Lyndhaven reported back.”
“Your contacts?” I repeat.
Savell nods. “I have a network of contacts for… information purposes.”
“I see.” Leaning my head back, the realization sets in. “That’s what you two were whispering about at Arella’s before we left.”
Pressing his lips together, Asheros dips his head. “Yes, it was.” He hesitates but continues. “Seeing how distressed you were at our lack of concrete evidence, I wanted to do what I could to gather information.”
Warmth blossoms in my chest at his thoughtfulness .
Now’s not the time, I think to myself. My feelings for Asheros will cloud my judgment. I slip into strategizing mode, my mind pulling apart the limited information we do have. “How far are we from Lyndhaven, a few hours?” It’s been a while since I’ve traveled in this part of Steel.
Savell purses his lips, tilting his head left and right as if he’s working it over in his mind. “A few hours at the least, and half a day at most.”
“Let’s shift course,” I say, my words holding the full weight of a command. “If the red-eyed male is going through Lyndhaven to get to Illnamoor, then so should we.”
Savell looks to Asheros, deferring to him.
Asheros nods. Though he speaks to Savell, he turns and holds my gaze. “We ride to Lyndhaven.”