At the question, I pursed my lips. My fingers made the first stroke of my name before I thought better of it.
“Don’t want to tell me? That’s all right.” His voice had become gentle, almost pleasant. There was a certain musicality to it, every word clear and unhurried.
Unusual, for a sentinel. The ones I’d met in the palace were always gruff, more expressive with their swords than with their words. Then again, what other sentinels did I know who carried around a sketchbook and read poetry?
A silver coin appeared between his knuckles. “Here, take this. Make good use of it.”
My eyes flew up. It was more than enough to get me south to find my brothers.
I grasped at it, but the sentinel held it out of reach. “Wait until after breakfast before you leave,” he said, as if extracting a promise.
My shoulders tensed, and my face went blank.Why?
“Better to begin a journey on a full stomach than an empty one. I’m speaking for myselfandfor you.”
I pointed outside.You’re leaving too?
“Tomorrow morning,” he confirmed. “My mission has been something of a failure, but your soup was an unexpected comfort. I swear, there must have been magic in your pot—today was the first time I can remember actually enjoying radishes.” Humor twinkled in his earthy eyes. “I would like very much to try them again and make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”
I couldn’t stop myself from returning his grin. What a silly young man, disliking radishes so much he worried my soup might be a fluke. Just thinking about it made me laugh in my head.
Very well.One more breakfast couldn’t hurt. But afterward, I too would be off—to find my brothers and break our curse.
Once the coin was in my hand, I fled his room, forgetting my mop and bucket. Excitement bubbled in my chest, and I could hardly keep myself from skipping to my room.
Maybe, just maybe, my luck was starting to turn.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning, a second sentinel arrived at Sparrow Inn.
I didn’t bother going out to greet him. I was stirring my pot of fish soup, inhaling the aroma, and paying extra attention to the radishes.
My toes tapped to an imaginary beat, and I sang in my mind:
Stir, stir, a soup for lovely skin.
Simmer, simmer, a stew for thick black hair.
I was happier than I’d been in weeks.
Sunshine tickled my nose, and I set down my ladle to scratch it. Then I studied my silver makan, watching the light reflect off its edges. I still couldn’t believe the sentinel had given it to me. I would have to get his name before he left; Father would reward him for his generosity once I was safely returned home.
After my soup was served, I would leave. By tonight I would be far from this place.
But as I set the soup bowls onto a tray, the new sentinel’s blade slammed against the outer wall, and clay tiles shuddered down the roof.
“You dare try to cheat me?” he roared.
“F-f-forgive me, m-my lord,” pleaded Mrs. Dainan. “I wasn’t thinking.”
My song came to a fragile halt, and I glanced outside, peeking through the window shutters to see what was happening.
“Order your guests to come forth into the hall,” commanded the sentinel. “I want everyone present.”
Who was this man? The mail adorning his arms and legs was a deep blue, their chains so delicately crafted they looked like tiny fish scales. Gold-spun cords held together steel plates of armor around his torso, polished to the point that I could see Mrs. Dainan’s reflection in them—she was on her knees, bowing as though her life depended on it. It probably did.
He looks important—like a lord,Kiki observed.You should go up to him.
