Page 44 of A Rose Among Snakes (Gardens of Ruin and Revival)

Chapter Forty-Three

Mihrra

T he narrow mountain path widened as we approached the village of Hawling. Thatch-roofed homes were scattered all around the land, perched high on cliffs and nestled deep in the valleys. It was more quaint than Clavo, but no less impressive. The sun had already passed below the tree line, and as we had to travel slower for Velian’s sake, we arrived later than planned. Ahead was a campsite on the outskirts of town where three men stood dressed in black.

“There they are,” Velian said, pointing to the men. He pushed Zavi up the hill and all three men lifted their heads. Paolef, distinguishable by his towering height, brushed his cloak to the side and revealed the sword on his belt. His shoulders relaxed as we got closer and he pulled his hood back from his face, revealing piercing light brown eyes and a bright smile contrasting his ebony skin.

“Oh, Boss, it’s you,” Corman said. “What took so long?”

Denzen greeted us with a wave, grabbing Zavi’s bridle as Velian stopped under a fir tree. He dismounted with a great deal of effort and grunting.

Paolef frowned at him. “What happened? ”

“Bandits,” Velian gasped as he landed on the ground. Paolef moved forward to offer a hand, but Velian brushed him off and rolled his shoulders. “The same ones from Canderren.”

Denzen stepped forward with a fierce scowl. “Where are they now?” He glared at the road behind us.

“Dead.”

“Are you sure?” Paolef asked.

“I don’t know. Mihrra, are you sure?”

I started, not expecting to be addressed. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Corman’s eyes widened. “Did you kill one?”

I was still processing what had happened. The rush had faded, and I was feeling numb. How was it possible I had killed three men? Not just one, but three. I wasn’t sure whether to be proud or disgusted with myself, guilt and smugness tangled together. Then again, violence was apparently a trait passed down by my father.

I opened and shut my mouth, and flicked my eyes over to Velian in a silent plea. He answered for me, “All three.”

Varying degrees of shock crossed their faces, from Corman’s hanging jaw, Denzen’s wide eyes, and Paolef’s raised eyebrows.

The latter let out a low whistle and said, “You must have been pretty lucky, then.”

Velian walked over to the campfire and sat down, leaning against a smooth boulder. Paolef brought him a flask of water and knelt beside him trying to look at his wound.

We all followed behind and as I reached the fire, Denzen scratched his strawberry-blond beard and frowned. “Was it an accident? ”

“Was what an accident?” Velian asked.

Denzen looked at me. “You killed all three. How did you manage that?”

I sniffed and jutted out my chin. “I knew what I was doing. My father taught me how to use a sword when I was younger.”

“Pfft. Who’s your father?

I opened my mouth to say, ‘Gorham Nowen,’ but I choked on the words. Gorham Nowen may have been everything to me, but to these men he was nobody. With supreme control, I kept my voice even as I provided them with the name they would have been most familiar with. “Gory Novenna.”

The only sound was the crackling fire.

“Honestly?” Corman asked. “ The Gory Novenna?”

I nodded, and Velian suppressed a laugh.

“No wonder you took them all out. You’re practically royalty!” Denzen sketched an exaggerated bow, then offered me his arm to usher me toward the fire. He sat me down next to Velian and brought me a bowl of the stew that had been simmering above the flames.

“How else may we serve you, Princess?” My chest swelled with an odd sensation, part pride, part discomfort. It was strange being around people who revered my father just as I did—had.

Beside me, Velian rolled his eyes. “Enough. Leave her alone.”

Denzen ignored Velian and continued waiting for a response, kneeling at my feet with his arms outstretched. Velian shoved him with his foot and Denzen toppled over. I cracked a smile, despite the uneasy feelings bobbing inside me .

From Velian’s other side, Paolef piped in, “You still haven’t said what happened to you.”

Velian grimaced. “What’s his name—Bomesson or something-”

“Oh, so you do know his name,” I muttered.

Velian threw me an impish grin before continuing, “He attacked me first, and Mihrra spooked their horses. I didn’t see what happened with the one who followed you.” He looked to me.

“I charged at him, making his horse throw him over a cliff.” I kept my tone steady, telling myself to state the facts and not dwell on my emotions.

“Genius,” Denzen breathed, still sitting at my feet.

“Anyway,” Velian said with a sideways glance at Denzen, “When Mihrra came back, she stepped in as one of them almost stabbed me in the back. She handled him well, but I was distracted when he tackled her to the ground. Bomesson took advantage and lunged for me. I barely stepped back in time. It’s not very deep, but it stings.” He lifted his shirt to reveal a shallow slash just above his hip bone.

Paolef leaned in to examine it. “You’re right, it’s not deep. And it’s mostly stopped bleeding, but you should still stitch it up.”

“Do you have anything for that?”

Corman, who was tending to the horses said, “I have a sewing kit!”

Denzen spit out his water. “Why do you have a sewing kit?”

Corman squared his shoulders. “For this exact reason.”

“Well, do you actually know how to sew, little seamstress? ”

Corman’s cheeks flushed. “No.”

“I do,” I said.

Velian jerked his chin. “Get the kit, Corman.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Denzen and Paolef stood up announcing they were going to get more firewood. After delivering the sewing kit, Corman followed them, leaving Velian and me alone. I found the slimmest needle in the tin and held it as close to the flames as I could bear to clean it. After it cooled, I scooted back over to Velian and threaded the needle.

I cleaned the wound with a cloth and water, then asked, “Are you ready?” My hand trembled as I held the needle up. I’d never stitched a wound on a human. A cow once, but never a person.

Velian removed his shirt and set it on the ground next to him, scooting down to lie flat on his back. I placed my hand on his warm skin and fixed my eyes on the wound rather than letting them wander over his well-defined abdomen as they wanted to. I’d seen it before, that night on the beach, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to drink it all in again. Instead, I pinched his skin and pushed the needle through. When he winced and sucked in a deep breath, I paused, grimacing. He nodded at me to continue.

“Distract me,” he said. “Tell me something I don’t know about you, Mihrra.”

I searched my brain for something to tell him and landed on a favorite childhood memory.

“I got caught stealing once.”

Velian raised his eyebrows .

“I was only nine, and my best friend, Taz, convinced me to sneak into our neighbor’s apple orchard. No one knows what his secret is, but he grows the sweetest apples in all of Terrune. Taz has never been one to follow the rules, so she decided that day she needed an apple, and couldn’t wait to buy one when he came back from the market in Frommhelm.” I pulled the thread taut and pushed the needle back through Velian’s skin, the motion becoming easier with each pass.

“Well, one apple turned into many, and before we knew it, we were half-asleep, lulled into safety by full bellies and warm sun. We never heard him, but suddenly Mr. Freidl’s dog was right there barking at us. We jumped up and started running, but the dog cornered us in front of Mr. Freidl’s house, and he was not pleased to see us. He marched us home and brought me right in front of my parents and told them I’d been stealing his apples.

“My mother was furious and apologized to him profusely, but my father didn’t say a word. I remember his face being distinctly expressionless, and once Mr. Freidl walked away, my father burst into laughter. He laughed until his face was red and tears streamed down his cheeks. My mother tried to scold me, but it was useless. He asked me if it was worth it, and when I smiled and told him it was, he laughed even harder.”

“Why was he laughing?”

“I think it was because it was so out of character for me.” I pulled the thread tight and started on another section. “I’ll never forget the way he laughed. It was infectious, and soon he had my mother laughing about it, too. ”

After a sharp exhale, he ground out, “You were close with your father.”

“Yes, I was. I miss him every day.” I pulled another stitch through, as I squinted around the tears blurring my vision. “Now it’s your turn, but I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead,” he said, wincing as I tugged the thread.

“Why haven’t you married yet?”

I glanced up as he blinked at me in surprise. I flushed, stunned by my boldness, and went back to stitching.

“I suppose I… just haven’t… found the right one.” He spoke in between held breaths as I worked faster.

“But surely you’ve met your share of beautiful women, and they practically throw themselves at you.”

Velian smirked and shook his head. “Except the one that I wish would.”

I kept my eyes fixed on the wound as the flush spread to my ears. In my discomfort, I pulled the thread tighter than necessary.

“Easy,” he groaned, throwing his head back. I lightened my touch, and he continued. “Honestly, with the business I was forced into, I didn’t think it was fair to bring anyone else into it.”

“Last one,” I muttered, pushing the needle through his skin once more. I finished it with a knot and admired my handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, but the wound was closed.

He propped himself up on his elbows, examining my work with a frown.

“What?” I asked, concerned .

“It’s too bad you didn’t spend as much time mastering sewing as you did sword fighting. This is going to scar,” he said, pursing his lips in a pout.

I scoffed, wadding up his shirt and throwing it at him. “You’re welcome.”

Velian chuckled as he caught it and sat up, slipping the shirt over his head. “I’m kidding. Thank you, Mihrra.”

After a quiet moment, I asked, “So you’re just going to be alone forever?” I was teasing, but when he fixed his eyes on mine, all traces of humor had been replaced by heat. He leaned forward and brushed my cheek with his fingers, a reminder of the night before.

“Hopefully not forever,” he whispered.

The dancing flames were reflected in his eyes, and I held my breath as he cupped the back of my neck and placed his forehead against mine. His lips parted and my heart threatened to pound out of my chest. Our noses pressed together, and I took in a shuddering breath, every nerve in my body crying out for our lips to touch when a stick snapped behind us. We broke apart and Velian dropped his hand.

From the darkness, Denzen emerged carrying a pile of sticks. “Corman volunteered to take the first watch tonight, and Paolef and I will take the others. You two need more rest than we do.”

“I won’t object to that,” Velian said.

My heart was still racing and I noticed the rapid rise and fall of Velian’s chest, too. His eyes sparkled as he looked at me, his expression so tender it hurt.

Corman and Paolef returned shortly after and unrolled a few bedrolls around the fire. Paolef and Denzen fell asleep quickly, and Corman moved closer to the horses to keep an eye on the road. I lay beside Velian, wrapping my cloak around myself. My eyes were shut, and I was trying to will myself to sleep, but my mind kept replaying our almost-kiss.

“Mihrra?” Velian whispered. My eyes opened to find he had rolled over to face me, and he was inching closer. He ran a hand down my arm, pressed his warm lips to my forehead, and pulled back whispering, “Goodnight, Mihrra.”

I smiled and whispered back, “Goodnight, Velian.”

Somehow, I drifted off to sleep, still beaming.