Page 14

My experience with men is limited compared to Ash’s, though I’m not completely unaware of what goes on beyond closed doors.

There was a handsome young man back in Elwyn, the son of a wealthy merchant.

Cedric. We often found ourselves at parties and gatherings together, our families traveling in the same circles.

Over the years we made quite a habit of stealthily sneaking off to the gardens or finding each other and tucking away in a quiet study.

“Have you even kissed anyone since Cedric?” It’s as if Ash is combing through my thoughts as they occur, and she knows I haven’t.

She found us once when delivering more food to the ballroom, working with her mother during one of the many parties my family threw.

I can’t even remember what that particular event was for, we had so many.

But that night, she was on her way back to the kitchen when she heard noises coming from the study.

And upon opening the door, Ash caught the two of us tangled together in the corner, tongues deep in each other’s mouths.

I remember how she stopped, her jaw dropping as her eyes drifted to where Cedric’s hand was mysteriously missing, lost somewhere up the inside of my skirts.

I could still vividly recall how her mouth quickly snapped shut, replaced by pursed rosy, red lips holding a smile.

She then apologized for the interruption and whisked herself from the room, leaving me an embarrassed mess.

The next day, I had taken a ration of shit from her for not telling her just how far things had gone with Cedric.

Heat rises back into my face at the memory of him. “No. Of course not.” There was no point.

He was my first but also my only. She was right that I’ve kept away from anyone else since finding out about my destiny.

It had taken time to move on from Cedric after the attack on my father’s estate.

I cared for him, loved him. And I don’t know what became of him after that day—whether he died like so many others in the attack or lived, whether he still works for his father or has joined up with the soldiers in the kingdom.

All I know is he’s never showed his face at either of the camps.

He is no rebel. And that means there is no future for me with him.

I have a purpose here. I’m in the camp for a reason, and it isn’t love.

“I think it would be good for you.” She pauses, thinking. “Maybe you could think of it as battle preparation if that would make you feel better about it. Get a little tension release beforehand?” Ash smirks and pokes me with her toes, her feet still laid across my lap.

“When you put it that way...” I say, letting the whites of my eyes show.

She shoves her toes further into my stomach and I grunt. “Fine, I’ll think about it,” I concede, throwing her feet off my body.

Ashbel jumps back and squeals. “Let the hunt begin!” she cries, eager with the prospect of finding someone for me to sleep with. It’s absurd and we both know I’m fronting and unlikely to take her advice, tempting as it may be.

“What about Ev?” Her question comes as a surprise, and I don’t mask my expression quick enough. She notices the smile wipe from my face at the mention of him, and based on the look plastered on her face, she was well aware of the reaction it would bring.

“Why would you even ask that?” I hiss back. “I would never suggest you sleep with Quinn, though I’m sure you would.” The comment isn’t meant as a slight to her or Quinn. In fact, Quinn is quite attractive, in spite of his dark and terrifying frame.

But Ash understands the meaning in my words and continues, “As would any woman who has eyes.” She’s not wrong.

“Bria, normally I would understand your hesitation, not wanting to ruin a friendship. But for you, does it really matter anymore?” She looks up at me as she asks, her eyes glassy, her thoughts likely also drifting back to the looming birthday and what it means for me.

“I suppose not.” I avert my gaze, letting my eyes fall back to the fraying blanket.

“Quinn told me that you two were...a bit close yesterday morning. And I saw it myself last night at the pub.” Ashbel must note the sadness in my tone and is trying to bring me back, to keep the conversation light.

I smile at the memory, no longer bothering to keep my face neutral.

She’s onto my feelings for him. Quinn’s eyes had been fierce when they darted between us yesterday and apparently he was worried enough about it to warn Ash of the interaction.

It’s irritating but he’s also a good friend, trying to keep Evander away from a monster like me.

“We’ve both seen the way he looks at you, Bria.

The hunger. He looks like a wolf that hasn’t eaten in days.

Though Quinn is very against it. We don’t seem to see eye to eye on this topic, to say the least.” The exasperation in her voice lets me know this has become yet another topic for the two to argue about. They are always arguing.

I try to shrug off the comment. “I think Quinn might be right on this one.”

Though my mind keeps replaying Ash’s words.

The hunger . Could she be right? I thought there was tension between us last night—a feeling that was slightly suffocating, almost making the air thicker and harder to breathe.

But does he feel that tension too? Does he feel the way they both seem to think he does?

I shake my head and my stomach growls loudly, a definite objection to the hours I’ve gone without eating today. Ash snorts at the sound.

“Fine, let’s go get you some food. I put aside some things earlier so we can go eat in the kitchen,” she says in answer to my disapproving stomach. She stands and points a finger at me. “But I’m not letting this go,” she warns and turns to leave the room.

We walk the halls of the inn while chatting about her day and the drama that always seems to unfold behind the doors of the kitchen.

They know everything that goes on around the camp, picking up bits and pieces from the commanders when they eat, not to mention some of the other girls are definitely sleeping with a few of them.

Ashbel lets me know that the commanders are meeting with Helara this evening, hence the quiet that’s taken over the halls of the old inn.

There is no one in the main hall, no sound of laughter or clinking glasses and silverware.

They are all tucked away in the private meeting room.

Evander and Quinn had not returned from their patrol by the time Ash finished her dinner shift.

Though she assures me they must be back by now, I still find myself worrying, my chest tightening with anxiety at the memory of the burned village they spoke of.

They are both phenomenal fighters, trained for years by Aamon, but even that knowledge does nothing to squash the nervous butterflies thrashing around in my gut and ribs.

Ash pushes open the door to the kitchen and the warm smells of rosemary and fresh bread waft out to meet me.

I’m ravenous. I pull up two stools the kitchen staff use at the prep stations while Ash gathers the dinner she put aside for us.

She brings over a loaf of the still-warm sourdough bread I smelled when we walked in along with some sliced apples and a wedge of cheese with a dark rind.

She pushes a jug of fresh cider toward me, and I pour the honey-colored liquid into two tall glasses.

We sit and talk while we eat, and the hours pass.

There is always something we can find to discuss.

You would think by now we would have run out of topics, but there is rarely a moment of silence between us.

I feel my energy starting to come back, that small ball of heat curling in the pit of my stomach once more.