Page 10 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

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FINNLEAH

L ittle rays of bright, morning sun snuck past the covered windows, landing straight onto my face. I stifled a loud yawn, noticing the still-slumbering women in the tent. Though my headache was gone, I got out of bed with a heavy feeling in my stomach.

I laced up my boots, resenting my bladder for making me go out into the freezing cold. Moving my blankets, I grabbed my winter cloak off the edge of my bed, only now noticing a small note alongside the polished and cleaned Heart Piercer, placed at the foot of my bed.

I hesitantly broke the wax seal, opening the letter as my eyes trailed the neatly written lines.

As ‘owed’, your Basalt Glass dagger. Be a good girl and try not to stab anyone with it while I am away. Please .

Yours truly,

Gideon Bellator

My eyes narrowed at the underlined please, and I folded the letter away. I gripped the bloodthirsty dagger, contemplating who I could stab out of spite, irked by his sheer cockiness. The perfectly balanced dagger felt light in my hand. It was comforting to have it back, despite the odd pull that came with it. It felt as though my very blood was retreating from its cold, sharp surface.

I clung to the bit of familiarity that the glass blade brought, sheathing it at my hip as I walked out of the tent. The crisp, ice-covered grass outside crunched under my feet as I ambled towards the bathroom, passing the now-empty tent of the Destroyer General. I stopped a patrolling soldier as he made his rounds.

“When will the General be back?” I asked him.

“A month, if not longer.” He shrugged, scratching his scrawny, red beard.

“What? Where did he go?” I asked again, hiding a sudden wave of disappointment.

“I’m not sure exactly, but I’d guess to address more of the Mad Queen’s demands?” he said, walking away.

Suddenly, I became aware of the hidden part of me, which regretted how our conversation had transpired last night—heated, accusatory, a bit harsh. Perhaps I was so eager to be heard, that I forgot to listen. But another part of me wished he would be here now, so that kernel of regret would quickly die from a single look at his smug face.

Deep inside, I knew the General was right, and I hated myself for it.

Every war has a price —yes, one I would not recompense with the lives of many.

But one I would gladly pay with my own.