Page 10

Chapter five

T he others came back inside, and we spent the rest of the morning discussing our route.

We were to depart in a few days’ time. Between now and then, I was to eat, rest, and learn to defend myself.

I had to know “how to break a nose and punch a dick,” as Gemma so elegantly put it. I agreed that was fair.

If we went to the Winterton Caves directly, the journey would only take us two weeks on foot.

But before that, we were to trek southeast to the city of Brinnea, where Simeon requested we meet him.

Few details about Simeon’s plan had been given to them, but they suspected it had to do with my power. About me being ready to wield it.

The more they apprised me of the world south of Warrich, the less convinced I was that I would ever be ready for Simeon or those Caves.

Finn and Caz told me about monsters that stalked humans like prey.

There were many different kinds—some with wings, some with claws, all with very sharp teeth.

They apologized for overwhelming me with information.

I didn’t have the heart to tell them I’d been overwhelmed since the moment I heard “ queen. ”

The monsters were Molochai’s creation, borne from the dark magic he’d stolen from the earth and wielded. There weren’t many this far north in Warrich due to the lack of prey—well, people—but the farther south we went, the more we might encounter.

Midday arrived, along with the sheer panic and embarrassment of not having much of anything to feed my new visitors.

“I don’t have much for food.” Shame crawled up to my throat. “I… I’m sor—”

“When was the last time you had any meat?” Smyth asked as he rummaged through the cabinets and the insulated chest. There was nothing there but a few cans of vegetable broth. “Grains? Vegetables? Milk?”

“I’ve had eggs. Each of the hens usually produces one a day. And broth.” I followed his movements, smooth and urgent. “But our meat ran out three months ago.”

“Three months.” He grew rigid. That strong, menacing jaw pulsed. “You’ve been eating only two eggs a day—at best —and vegetable broth for three months?”

“Yes.” I glanced at Gemma, but she was no help. Her attention darted nervously between me and Smyth. “The blight took most of the crops last year,” I explained. “We made broth from what we could save. My mother said eggs and broth are all I need to… keep my figure.”

Something violent and terrifying blazed in his eyes at my words.

My throat tightened while discomforting awareness slithered across my skin.

My body had slimmed near to its bones over the past year and a half.

My mother had never objected to it, though I had once heard Phillip tell her I didn’t have much weight to lose to begin with.

“I see.” His voice was cold, his expression empty and unreadable—that violence gone, tamped down.

An inflexible pause gripped the room, broken only by his swift, sturdy footsteps as he crossed the full length of the house in a few long strides.

He dug through his bag, withdrew a package bound with twine and butcher’s paper, and set it on the table in front of me.

My mouth watered at the delectable sweet-and-savory scent.

“Isn’t this yours?” I was so hungry, but I couldn’t take the man’s food.

“It’s yours now.” He nodded toward the package. “Go on.”

I glanced at the others. Finn and Caz shared amused smirks while Ezra looked on to avoid the tension.

“I’ll share with—”

“No,” snapped Smyth gruffly, pointing firmly to the package. “You will not share. It’s yours.”

I carefully unwrapped the twine and parchment and gasped when I saw what was inside.

My stomach roared. Jerky. I looked up to see Smyth watching my hand, fury and woe spiraling in his hickory stare.

I followed his glare and saw that my fingers were trembling.

From hunger, from anticipation, maybe low blood sugar.

Embarrassed, I tucked my hand into my lap beneath the table and reached for a piece of the jerky with the other.

It tasted so good, like smoky, saccharine sunlight bursting on my tongue. My eyes watered, maybe from the taste, definitely from the gratitude.

“Thank you,” I said after swallowing the first piece.

He gave a firm nod, and the strong muscle in his jaw pulsed beneath his beard.

My pulse stumbled over itself. “Caz. Ezra.” Smyth strode over to his coat hanging in the corner and pulled out a worn leather pouch heavy with coins.

He tossed it in Caz’s lap, where it landed with a resounding smack.

Heavy enough to hurt, but Caz wasn’t fazed.

“Go to Thesda. Buy all the food and drink you can with that.”

Ezra opened his mouth to object. “Thesda is nearly a day’s trek southwest—”

“Then you’ll be back by sunset tomorrow if you leave now,” Smyth concurred coldly. “Quick stop for a rest if you’d like. You’ll be fine.” I watched Ezra’s shoulders slump in annoyed resignation. “Finn.” Smyth turned to the younger Sinclair brother. “Think you can manage a hunt today?”

“I’ll do my damndest.” Finn nodded without protest and turned to Gemma. “Care to join me?” A warm half-smile lit up his handsome face.

The corners of Gemma’s mouth twitched upward as she began to stand.

For her sake, my stomach fluttered. But then she glanced at me, apprehension flickering through her expression, then at Smyth, her shoulders tensing.

If she left, I’d be alone with him. While that didn’t scare me as much as it should have, I knew Gemma wouldn’t have it.

“I’ll stay.” She rested her hand on my arm and narrowed her eyes at Smyth, who regarded her dispassionately. “With Ary.”

Finn wasn’t gone for long, and when he returned with a large hare, I felt soured by shame that I’d never tried to hunt for my own food when it seemed so easy for him to do.

For all of them, surely. And now, I sat at the table, useless, with a blanket wrapped around me while Gemma and Finn argued over whether or not a knife was even needed to skin the hare.

“The skin’s thin.” Gemma reached for the hare. “Just snap the ankles, grip with your fingers, and pull.”

I flinched at the visual and turned my attention away, knowing I was going to have to learn how to do things like this but deciding…

not today. Any meat my mother traded for—which hadn’t been much—had already been skinned and gutted by the time it got to us.

Before his death, Phillip had always taken care of hunting and preparing the animals for us.

For once, I was pleased he hadn’t taught me how to do something myself.

I had no desire to disassemble a living thing.

“You’ve got to give the tendons a clean cut first with a good blade.” Finn sighed and jerked the dead animal out of her reach. “Just let me do it, woman!”

Smyth stood next to the sink, thick arms folded across his chest, looking incredibly bored with their dispute. I wondered how well he could prepare an animal. Did he flinch like I would? Did nausea churn in his stomach at the thought?

Who was I kidding? That man could skin a creature in his sleep without remorse and wake up to eat a full meal afterwards.

I sat with my hands folded in my lap and stole the occasional glance at him. Each time our eyes met, I averted my attention before I had a chance to decipher his expression. But I felt him watching, time and time again.

Finn and Gemma eventually compromised: Finn cut the tendon and Gemma did the rest without a knife.

I watched him watch her with quiet fascination, the curve of a smile accenting his impeccably tan face, those hazel eyes gleaming.

For people who lived in the Caves, the Sinclair brothers must have spent a lot of time under the sun.

The smell of freshly ground coffee wafted over my nostrils and Smyth placed stoneware mugs on the table before us.

I lifted my eyes, too grateful for the gesture to tell him I only liked the smell of coffee, not the taste.

Gemma groaned and lifted her mug to her lips.

The taste wasn’t wretched, and I could put up with one mug of it to avoid being rude. I moved to take a sip.

But I paused, staring at the clear, green-tinted liquid in my mug, absorbing its light, leafy scent. Not the rich, earthy scent that drifted from the mugs in both Finn and Gemma’s hands.

“You gave me tea.”

Smyth leaned up against the wall, his expression blank, waiting patiently for my elaboration.

“Everyone else has coffee, and this is tea,” I clarified.

“You don’t like coffee.” The intensity in his gaze sent a shock wave of warmth straight to my stomach. He was right. I didn’t like coffee. But even if I did, his conviction could convince me I didn’t .

“I-I…” They all watched me, including Gemma, who shrugged and mouthed “ I said nothing ” when she saw my inquisitive eyes. “I never told you that.”

He didn’t react. He didn’t even move, save to blink.

I took a sip, and my body relaxed when the warm, verdant sweetness touched my tongue. “Is there honey in this?”

“Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest and took a sip out of his own mug.

“I never told you I liked honey in my tea, either.”

“But you do.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes. How’d you know?”

His thick brow lifted. “Lucky guess.”

My mother had mentioned it to Simeon, who told Smyth, I told myself. Surely my own mother cared enough to share information that might help me adjust to this change. Never mind that she’d hardly remembered my preference for green tea and honey when she lived here.

Finn and Gemma spent the afternoon telling me more about our lands and people.

Most of the cities—where those deemed wealthy and influential lived—were protected by Simeon’s wards.

Elias maintained a loyal network of spies throughout Nyrida who passed back information.

Molochai’s army was strong, but we managed to survive.