“Do you often make it a point to steal in your spare time?”
Aeric grinned, the subtle movement making a strand of his dark hair fall over his brow, capturing her attention. Ever since that day in the forest, she couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t asked her to return the leather strap he’d used to braid her hair back.
If he’d taken notice that she’d used it again today, her long braid pulled over one shoulder, he didn’t point it out.
“Not as often as I used to, no. But if the opportunity calls for it, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”
Anelize crossed her arms. “Don’t tell me. Was our esteemed captain a thief in another life?”
Aeric picked up a vibrant green leaf from the table, eyeing it closely. Valerian, she noted, before he said, almost absentmindedly, “In another life. One where it was either that or starve on the streets of Elvir.” At her stunned expression, he added, “I wasn’t always a Watchman, you know. I hadsomedecency back then, little as it may have been. After the attack, I escaped and found ways to survive. None of them pleasant, but it’s too late to have regrets now. I made my choices, and I’m here because of them.”
“How did you manage it? To join the ranks?” she asked, wondering why her voice had taken on a softer cadence.
Aeric was quiet for a long moment, so long that she started to think she had pried too much. Before she could shift the conversation, with a rasp in his words that sent a chill down her spine, he said, “With blood and a list of names to strike off the board.”
His eyes sank into hers. A needle sinking through flesh, sharp and unyielding. A challenge laced in them, to shy away, to prod for more. Only she did neither. Merely held his gaze in their silence.
They’ve all done things they were ashamed of, and in that came an understanding between them. They may never right their mistakes, their sins, but they cannot deny them either. Like an inky stain speckled across the map of their lives. Never to be washed away.
The sound of voices beyond the kitchen door distant, though growing louder with each passing second. Before either of them could say another word, Zara entered the kitchen, smiling at the two of them as she got started onpreparing breakfast for everyone. Then came the twins, and Castian. Followed by Henry as he hauled in wood for the hearth. As she worked on the prince’s tonics, the room quickly filled with lively chatter, taking her by surprise. The familiarity in which they all regarded each other making her feel as though she did not belong among them.
A week ago, she was nothing more than a stranger to the men around her. Estranged even from Zara and Henry until circumstances brought them back together.
Before she could slip out of the kitchen, she was being pushed into one of the benches beside Castian, and a plate of food was set down before her. Fried eggs, slices of parizer, and hard cheeses accompanied by a chunk of bread that Aeric had torn and handed to her.
When Aeric noticed her stunned expression, he chuckled, enveloping her in the deep and rich sound as it fell around her. “I have a feeling you plan on conjuring again soon. You know what that means.” She grumbled an answer as his eyes went to Castian then motioned toward his plate. “You too, Cas.”
Castian, who wore a gray woolen tunic that only brought out the warmth of his golden hair, did not argue as he started eating. His appetite impressive as he quickly ate everything off his plate. Using only his left hand today, and even then Anelize picked up on the way his fingers trembled as he held his fork.
When he noticed the mortar and pestle, sachets, and herbs beside her, he asked, “I take it that is all for me?”
Anelize nodded in between taking bites before redirecting her attention to the small sachet filled with the components she’d combined to make a tea. Hoping they would help ease his pain.
“You can have it once you finish eating. It shouldn’t be too terrible if you steep it in hot water. It’s no different from any ordinary tea.”
At the prince’s skepticism, Idris laughed as he rose from the table. “Good luck getting him to take anything that isn’t drowned in heaping spoonful’s of sugar. Not that you’ll be finding any of that around these parts. King Amaranth is none too generous when it comes to the resources those in the impoverished district are granted. Chocolate, sugar, meat—they have all long since been reserved for the nobles. Perhaps that should be your first course of action once you sit upon the throne. Sugar for all.”
The prince sighed, “I’m ever fond of your jests, Idris. But I do not need coddling.” Castian pursed his lips then glanced to Anelize. “Not that it matters, but is there any way to add sugar, in the case it is particularly…foul tasting?”
“There are roots here that could make it taste bitter. I doubt adding anything will make it easier to drink. You can either drink it, or remain as you are. I’ve merely done my part as I’d promised,” Anelize said, her eyes unwavering as she stared at the prince.
Aeric shook his head as he sat back in his chair. “I’d do as she says. Otherwise, you’ll be subjected to her expert bedside manners, Castian.”
When he glanced at her from across the table, Anelize scowled at him, feeling her cheeks warm suddenly. No doubt from the heat emanating within the hearth. She muttered a curse when his lips curled into a grin.
“All right, all right. I’ll do it. If Anya says it will help, then I suppose I should trust her. It isn’t as though I have very many options left anyway.”
At Castian’s hacking coughs and Aeric’s deep raspinglaughter, Anelize couldn’t hide the smile that slowly tugged at her lips. The ache in her heart, her worries, by no means diminished. But today, she felt she breathed a little easier.
Until they all came rushing back to her once she was alone again. Once the dull ache in the back of her head began beating as if it were an incessant drum.
The hissing voice that haunted her in her dreams.
Sitting on the bed, Anelize glared down at the small knife sitting atop the covers as though it were a fearsome foe.
It was frankly ridiculous how long she’d been sitting there with her legs crossed after she’d snagged one of the knives from the kitchen before sneaking it upstairs. Acting like a child who was up to no good. That, in and of itself, was what drove her to lock herself away in her room for the remainder of the afternoon. Driving herself mad with wondering when she became so apprehensive of what she was capable of.
It could have started the moment her father had looked at her not as his daughter coming into her own, but as someone to be considered with great aversion. Over time, she came to understand his reservations, of course.
