Page 130 of The Sun King's Noon

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Flint hissed, wrenching Richard into a brisk walk.

“I thought I heard my name.”

“Yeah? Well, next time, you button your fucking lip and pretend you’ve gone deaf.” Flint waved an impatient hand to Kaelen, who’d stopped to check. “If a thing calls your name in the middle of fucking nowhere, you don’t go announcing it has the right person. Have some bleeding sense.”

“I see,” Richard said meekly.

“Just be careful, handsome,” Flint muttered. “We aren’t in Ardenia anymore.”

* * *

Kaelen builtthe fire in a small clearing. They’d picked some branches and twigs along the way, and Kaelen worked at it with quick hands. Once the fire bloomed, the spiders swarming the ground scattered to the clearing’s edge, finding refuge amongthe trees. It was only then that they laid down the bedrolls—Kaelen hurrying to arrange Richard’s, batting away spiders that still clung to it.

Flint sprawled by the fire and shut his eyes. “Wake me when it’s my turn to watch.”

Richard settled into his own bedroll and recalled the leather bracelet he’d bought the day before. Quickly, he fished it from his inner pocket and lobbed it in Flint’s direction.

The bandit caught it without opening his eyes. “What’s it?”

“A bracelet.” Richard beamed, giving Kaelen a wink. “There was a stall in the market yesterday, and I thought of you. The raven, you see. For your guild.”

Flint lifted his head from the crook of his elbow and flicked at the dangling raven bead. “You bought me a piece of cord and a tin bird.”

“You might well try to be gracious,” Kaelen snapped from where he was feeding branches into the fire. “It is the thought that matters.”

Flint tugged the bracelet around his wrist. “There. I am garnished. I am festooned. I am the prettiest cutthroat in all the Seven Realms, and I shall doubtless be murdered for my finery in my sleep.”

Richard tried not to smirk. “It suits you.”

“Like hell it does.” Flint flopped back into his bedroll. “I’ll wear it till I can sell it for a copper coin. Goodnight.”

Soon, his breathing had slowed, and light snores echoed. Richard turned to find Kaelen watching him.

“I shall take first watch,” Richard said. “You have had a day, and your face is still a sight.”

Kaelen touched his swollen nose with a rueful grin. “Yes. I imagine it is.”

“Sleep.”

The knight unrolled his own bedding beside the fire, settling on his side with his sword in hand. “Wake me at the slightest cause for concern.”

“Of course.”

Kaelen seemed satisfied with that. He closed his eyes, and soon he, too, was breathing deeply.

Richard drew his knees to his chest and watched the fire crackle and spit. Who’d have thought he’d come so far from Ardenia? That he’d be sitting between his knight and a bandit who hated his crown.

Tomorrow, they would go after the eight-legged siren, whatever it proved to be. They would rip out its heart, and it’d be a step closer, finally, to stopping the spread of Rot.

But Galdran… that was a matter yet to be resolved. He’d been trying not to think of it, but once the veil fell and Gloamvarn’s might marched forth, what hope did Ardenia have, in truth? With only Frostheim as an ally, how could they withstand the onslaught? The fighting would cost thousands of lives, and if Galdran won, Richard knew, all those he loved would be flayed in front of him. Such was the elf’s nature.

“Richard.”

The voice came from the trees behind. Richard’s head jerked so fast that his neck cricked. Kaelen muttered into his bedroll and shifted onto his other side.

“Richard.”

Richard stared. He knew that voice as he knew his own hands. Rich, low, with a warm timbre.