AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m going to get us food,” Dessin promises as we get settled in our cold seats.
“Don’t worry about it, Dess. Fasts are good for detoxing our bodies!” Ruth chimes, running a small hand through her mess of damp curls.
I frown, somehow her eagerness to see the bright side in such a dismal situation just makes me more upset. But it also makes me love her more. I understand her views on food. That city trained us to see eating as the enemy. To see every bright side to weight loss and vanity. I still have that unhealthy mindset flaring up, checking my waistline, observing the size of my arms and thighs. It’s hard to get rid of. I hope we can work on it together.
“I don’t like nicknames,” Dessin deadpans.
Warrose raises a dark eyebrow at me. A taunt gleaming in his weary eyes.
“You sure about that?” he asks with a mischievous smile curling his lips.
“Don’t,” Dessin says flatly.
“Not even the time you named yourself the…Dess-Aster?”
We collectively gasp.
“I was seven.”
“Or Dess-Truction?”
Dessin sighs. We finally break, cracking up at the idea of Dessin nicknaming himself.
“Awe,” I coo, patting his thigh.
“Sounds a little…Dess-Perate.” Niles grins widely, clearly proud of his own wit.
Dessin slices his glare to Niles, pinning him in his seat silently. Niles drops his gaze to his lap.
“You had to ruin it,” Warrose says.
Our laughter fades as we notice a shadow hovering over our table. An old woman with brassy gray hair and a scarred-up face sets a plate with a fancy cover on our table. She does a polite bow and utters something in old Alkadonian.
“She said compliments of the chef,” Ruth translates skeptically.
The room’s chatter fizzles out.
I hold my breath while Dessin reaches out his hand, plucking the silver cover off the plate. Niles immediately gags.
A steaming pile of fresh…shit.
Human feces.
My face burns as I quickly look away, meeting the eyes of prisoners that are insidiously tickled. Silent chuckling. Parted mouths in pleasant surprise.
I want to bury them all.
“Now they’ve done it,” Warrose mutters.
I blow out a frustrated breath, ready to tell Dessin to cover the damn plate. But I realize Warrose is shaking his head at Dessin’s reaction. And I’m a fool if I thought he could submit to anyone, even if it means laying low until we figure out what’s going on.
Dessin stares at the plate. Dead behind the eyes. A storm of ice and fire clashing in his mind. May God save their souls, because Dessin certainly won’t.
“Dessi” I don’t get to finish saying his name with firm caution. He’s up. Towering over the old woman. And there is only a brief moment before he stares down at me with that familiar glint in his deep, hickory eyes. It’s the same look he gave me before he snapped the man’s neck in the abandoned Demechnef building.
He swipes one of six forks from the plate. And they’re all mindless idiots if they thought he couldn’t use a fucking fork as a weapon. With one jab, he blinds the old woman. Like stabbing a toothpick into an olive. She shrieks, falling to her brittle knees and clutching her hands to her face.
“Well, fuck,” Warrose chuffs out a laugh.
