Chapter 21
POV: Sorsha
I was so focused on practicing that I never even heard the ice blocks being delivered. It wasn’t until Callum slotted them into the container that I looked up, suddenly aware of him.
He bent over me just as I shook the sandbox to clear the letter I had written.
“Let me see,” he asked.
“No, not yet. I’m still practicing,” I countered.
“I have to see if you’re doing it right,” he encouraged, his hand settling on my shoulder, squeezing lightly.
“Fine,” I huffed.
I drew the capital A and then the small one, sitting back and holding my breath. They looked decent, though the sand sometimes ran into the lines, blurring the edges.
“That’s perfect. Do the others.”
I shook the sandbox again and carefully carved B, C, and D. When I glanced up, his face was very close to mine.
“You’re amazing. At this rate, we’ll cover the entire alphabet in a week.”
I hesitated, unsure if I should, but I’d already been thinking of a word I could make with those letters. On a whim, I shook the sandbox once more and slowly traced out bad.
Callum straightened, his brows lifting. “Tell me what you wrote?”
“Bad.” I grinned up at him.
“Huh, I think you might be a genius,” he said in astonishment. “Can you think of another word?”
“With these letters?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Close the door,” I requested, wanting to see the sheet of paper. He did, and I racked my brain until I realized the other way round also made a word.
“Dab!” I shouted, springing to my feet.
Callum laughed, catching me around the waist before I could topple the stool. In one smooth motion, he lifted me off my feet and spun me in a circle. My breath caught, half from surprise and half from closeness.
“That confirms it—you are a genius!” he said, his eyes and smile so bright, I was tempted to kiss him on the lips.
The room tilted as he set me back down, but it wasn’t the spin that left me dizzy. For the first time, I realized the flutter in my stomach had nothing to do with the letters in the sand—and everything to do with him.
Blushing, I hung my head, turning quickly toward the table as if the sandbox there might save me. “Is it lunchtime?” I asked, my voice a little too rushed.
“Already past lunchtime, but you were so focused, I decided to wait for the ice blocks. But now I’m starving,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
I cleared the table quickly while he sliced the bread. He was precise, every piece the same size, and I found myself oddly mesmerized by the simple efficiency of his hands.
I set the table with butter and honey, and when he brought the bread over, we sat down together. I no longer rushed through meals but ate slowly, savoring each bite.
“Callum?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Can you build an enclosure in the backyard, or do you still want to train there?”
He swallowed and sat forward, a frown creasing his brow. “Train? You mean for fights?”
I nodded.
“No. I don’t want to fight. I slipped up with the last one, but I never want to fight again,” he reassured me.
Okay, good. Can you build me an enclosure for chickens?”
He chuckled. “Of course. How many chickens?”
Oh… I hadn’t thought that far. How many would we need if we wanted eggs daily? Did we even need eggs every day?
“Maybe four,” I estimated.
“Okay. I’ll order some wire mesh. You can get chicks from Orpen farm.”
“I’ll pay for the wire mesh…” I began, but one look from him shut me down.
“What did I say?”
“You want me to save the money you gave me,” I muttered.
“Correct. I will pay for all your needs. And, by the way, I like the shawl you bought.”
I gaped at him. I’d been so caught up in everything else, I had almost forgotten about it. Horror prickled through me as I realized how easily I’d accepted it all—how quickly I had slipped into this role of wealth without even noticing.
Guilt pressed down on me. Not so long ago, I scraped through each day, clinging to survival. And now here I was, buttering bread and wearing shawls, letting him shoulder every cost.
It felt wrong, as though I were betraying the girl who had once gone hungry—the girl who had sworn she would leave and make her own way.
The truth was, I no longer wanted to leave. But I also couldn’t lose sight of what Callum had given me—and kept giving me. Teaching me to read alone was worth more than anything I could measure.
I had to give back. To him, and to others who still went hungry.
But how?
This question plagued me for the rest of the afternoon. Callum wrote the next four letters on the page, and I practiced studiously. Once I learned them all, I would look through the bookshelf in the lounge, which held a number of books.
Still glowing with Callum’s praise, I slipped into the lounge and traced a finger along the spines.
Picking one, I focused on the first page, but I couldn’t read a word. Yet.
I was sure that once I knew every letter of the alphabet, I would be able to read anything. How often had I stared at signs and wished I knew what they said—so I wouldn’t feel inferior to all the people around me.
I picked up another book, and something slipped from the pages.
A handwritten note.
I tried deciphering the message, but the handwriting was so squiggly it was nearly impossible to make out.
I was still holding it when Callum walked in, and I quickly hid it behind my back.
He gave me a quizzical look. “I thought you said no secrets.”
I had said that. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was just looking through the books, wondering…” I trailed off.
“Whether you could read them? What did you find?”
He stepped closer, and I hesitantly handed him the note. The smile faded from his face as his eyes moved across the page.
“My father gave me this book after my mother died. In it, he wrote how sorry he was, how much he loved her, and if I could forgive him.”
“And did you?”
“Not then.” His voice dropped, weighted with something I couldn’t name. “Only when the Berserker started showing up did I understand.”