Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Iwake to the sound of chewing.
Not dainty, civilized chewing. More like the full-bodied, masculine devouring of someone who believes breakfast is a competition of who can engulf their plate first.
My eyes crack open. “If that’s my muffin, I swear to the gods—”
Grabbing my glasses from the cave floor, I shove them on my face.
Cedrik looks over, caught mid-bite, half-naked and entirely unsure of whether he should swallow or not. His hair’s a mess, his cloak draped over his legs, and my chicken is snuggled in his lap.
He shrugs, muffin in hand. “Um… no?”
I frown, looking right at him with the contraband.
He clears his throat. “In my defense, you weren’t awake.”
“That one had cinnamon,” I say, sitting up so fast the blanket drops from my chest, which is the exact moment I realize I’m still naked.
He chokes on his bite and makes no attempt to stop himself from taking in an eyeful, or from licking his lips. Then he gestures with the half-eaten pastry. “You want it back?”
I glare. “It’s got your meaty paws all over it. No, I don’t want it back.”
A slow grin curves his mouth. “Didn’t seem to mind these meaty paws all over you last night.”
Heat detonates across my face. “That was different! That was—don’t smirk like that!”
He smirks harder. “Twice.”
Eggory lets out a judgmental bawk from his corner, like the realm’s tiniest moral compass.
“Shut it,” Cedrik mutters, tossing him a crumb.
Hennifer snatches it midair before Eggory can reach it.
I sigh, pressing a hand to my face. “Remind me to never be emotionally vulnerable again.”
“Noted,” Cedrik says around another bite. “But I don’t think you were complaining at all.”
We pack and dress in silence. It’s not the awkward kind, but the strange, tentative kind that hums with all the things we aren’t saying. He rolls up the bedroll while I re-secure Eggory in his sash. The rooster goes rigid, glaring like a god forced to endure mortal indignity.
He’s apparently seen things he can’t unsee now.
“You ready for this?” Cedrik asks as we reach the mouth of the cave.
“Ready to return like the omen savior I am? Absolutely.”
Outside, dawn smolders low and gray. The forest drips with meltwater, the storm’s fury already dissolving into mist. My cloak sparkles faintly from residual glitter, but that’s fine.
Cedrik squints at me, amused. “You realize you’re glowing?”
I brush at my sleeve, sending an array of tiny sparkles into the air. “It’s called determination.” I sneer. “This is what it looks like in physical form, thank you.”
He snorts. “It’s called poor impulse control.”
I send him the same crude gesture that the squirrels give me, and raise a middle finger.
Cedrik blushes and shakes his head. And with that, we start our walk back to Grim’s Keep.
It seems longer than it should, and my boots are still wet from the snow, which is rather inconvenient.
It makes them squelch with every step I take.
Hennifer snuggles into the hood of my cloak, while Eggory has no choice but to sit in the hood of Cedrik’s.
But it keeps them from trudging through the snow that’s still almost up to my knees.
By the time the walls come into view, my arms ache, my hair’s a bird’s nest, and Cedrik’s tunic is still open. We must look like we were mugged by scavengers.
The guards spot us first.
At once, they straighten. One actually salutes. Another drops his spear.
Then—miracle of miracles—they part.
Eggory boks once, imperious as a monarch, and every soldier gives us their attention.
I try not to laugh. “I think he’s enjoying this.”
Cedrik deadpans, “He’s plotting our deaths.”
We cross the courtyard in a haze of slush and feathers. The place is a disaster—broken farming equipment, scattered grain, the words EGGORY RULES smeared across the blacksmith door in berry jam.
Chickens scatter in reverent silence as we pass. Clearly, they escaped again after we left.
Steve, my boss, bursts out of the main keep like a man possessed, robes flying.
His tea kettle is strapped to his chest in a baby wrap, but underneath his open robe, he’s shirtless.
Honestly, it’s pretty usual for him to be dressed that way.
His wooden sandals slap the cobblestone as he runs toward us, his black hair bouncing with every step.
“He lives!” he cries, sprinting toward us with arms outstretched. “My baby has returned!”
Cedrik, flat as ever: “Your baby pooped on my hammer last night. I’m not even sure how, considering he was wrapped up like this. Yet, the evidence was planted behind his butt.” He scratches his brow. “I could’ve sworn I put it inside my pack before laying down.”
Eggory squawks, unapologetic.
Steve scoops the rooster straight from my arms and spins him in a circle. “Did you wreak havoc? Did you send omens? Who’s my special boy?”
Cedrik watches with visible discomfort as Steve and his rooster leave without another word. “I’ve seen less cult-like behavior at blood-magic ceremonies. He didn’t even thank you. I’ll make sure I talk to my sister and the Lord about your apprenticeship. You don’t need to worry about him.”
I try to keep a straight face. “I appreciate it, but I’d like to try and handle it myself first.”
Cedrik grins. “Yeah? Okay. Well, if you need me, then I’m here.” He tosses his arm over my shoulder and my grin practically breaks my face.
Steve finally seems to notice we exist beyond Eggory. His eyes narrow. “You two look… cozy.”
Cedrik shrugs. “Blame the winter storm.”
“And the cave,” I add quickly.
Steve’s gaze flicks between us, then to Hennifer, who’s standing like a tiny bodyguard beside my boot. He opens his mouth to say something but Eggory bawks.
Loud. Sharp. Divine.
Steve freezes. “Very well. Eggory’s informed me that you’ve grown significantly in your powers, Mersi.
My jaw drops. “He did?”
Cedrik scoffs, crossing his arms like he could blend in with the trees in the forest behind us. “If that chicken gets promoted before you do, I’m rioting.”
If my boss heard him, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, his expression softens as he says, “You did good, Merselli.”
It hits like sunlight through storm clouds, and my throat goes tight. “Thanks,” I manage. “I’m sorry I let him escape in the first place.”
He just shrugs. “Failure’s part of the process. It’s what you do next that counts. I’d like to see you in the apothecary bright and early.” Steve pets his rooster and sends me a smile.
Mission accomplished! I resist the urge to squeal or jump for joy. I will remain professional at all costs.
Cedrik edges closer, close enough that his sleeve brushes mine. “See?” he murmurs.
“And as for the reading, maybe we can come up with a way to teach you. Perhaps Cedrik can tutor you after our time in the magical arts.” He arches a brow at us, then turns on a heel and heads toward the keep.
My mouth gapes. “He knew?”
“I don’t think he did…” Cedrik’s brow furrows. “He’s always been able to communicate with Eggory somehow. You told me in front of him.”
I turn toward him. “You’re telling me that fucking rooster ratted me out?”
His lips tug up at the corners. “Yeah. I think I am.” He huffs a laugh.
We walk together through the keep grounds, passing rows of curious onlookers, Hennifer on our heels.
Cedrik bumps my shoulder. “You want to get some sleep?”
“But I thought you don’t sleep.”
His grin is slow and lethal. “I said I don’t need it. Never said I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Especially if it means curling up with you.”
My cheeks heat and he threads his hand in mine.
“All right. Lead the way.”
Something mischievous blooms in his lavender eyes. “My place or yours?”
“Doesn’t matter, so long as I can bring my chicken.”
THE END