That’s a safe enough answer. A truthful one that allows me not to linger on the last relationship I did have. The one that shattered my soul into a million pieces that I’m still slowly working to put back together.
“And lovers?”
I cough. “Are you always this blunt?”
“You asked me first!”
“I asked about a boyfriend, not everyone you slept with.”
“Same difference.” She lifts a shoulder. “I am merely trying to make friendly conversation,” Elia bats her eyes at me as she quotes me from earlier.
Another minute of silence, but it’s not awkward now.
“None,” I answer at last.
Her eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “None in five years?”
I shake my head.
“Wow. Someone must have been very special to you.”
He was. But I don’t say that out loud.
“Soren wasn’t my boyfriend. The guard, I mean. He was… someone there, I guess.”
“Did you love him?” The words slip from my mouth before I can stop them.
Elia chokes. “Definitely not. He was a guard first, and a warm body second.”
“Is he the one who hit you?”
I had seen the slight red on her face earlier when we first met, but had wrongly mistaken it for a blush. Later when we were walking to the carriages I noticed there was a slight swelling to her right cheek as well.
My hands tighten at my sides, twitching, thinking of someone willingly hurting this woman in front of me. If I had noticed it for what it wasearlier, the guard would’ve died right then and there by my hand. Luckily for him, the swelling has gone down and is barely noticeable now.
“Like I said, he was a guard first.” Sadness clouds her eyes, and I immediately regret asking. The mood grows somber in the carriage and the conversation ends.
Chapter 4
Elia
The sun has long since made an appearance out the window, and there’s not much for me to see anymore. I still stare out anyways, too exhausted to strike up another conversation.
I had been mesmerized by the transformation from desert to forest. I hadn’t seen grass since I left my family’s farm and I’d forgotten how much color and vibrancy it adds to the world. I wish the glass panes of the carriage could open so I could soak in the clean smell of it.
I glance at Callum out of the corner of my eye. I haven’t been able to gather my thoughts on him quite yet. My first impression of him in the camp was that he carried himself well and that his manners and demeanor screamed noble-born. He’s nottoo different in the carriage but there’s a few small quirks that I’ve picked up on in this one day of travel. Like Callum’s fidgeting hands and his unease at questions about his past relationships.
His secrecy of this relic is also making me question whether accompanying him was a good idea or not. I was caught up in the whirlwind of the moment when he asked me. My fantasy of my parents greeting me had died away and with it all my remaining hope. Not that I had much left anyways. After eleven years, I figured my parents were long gone. Dead or lost or otherwise not able to return for me.
And that’s why I accepted Callum’s offer. It was the first time I could see a future for myself, a path to freedom, to living.
I start to see the lights of a town coming into view. It’s an ordinary village, similar to the one near my farm, with the typical stone buildings built so closely together it’s hard to distinguish one from the other. I don’t see any people, so it must either be well into the evening or a smaller, less populated town. Or both, I guess.
Callum clears his throat. “We’ll be stopping in Moira. The inn’s straight ahead, and you can clean yourself up and rest for the night.” He says it with his typical formality tinged with awkwardness again.
Moira. I try to recall the maps I studied so long ago to place it, butcan’t.
My confusion must be easy to read because Callum follows up with, “It’s about one more long travel day to the palace. Moira is a quiet town in the northern part of Ashven. It’s small enough that they’re desperate for business and won’t cause any…problems.”
