Page 97 of The Seeker

He lifted his hands before dropping them again. “I guess you’re right.”

“I know I am,” I snapped before crossing the room to open my bag. “I’ve already got a plan, but I can’t do it alone.”

“Alright,” Askel said with a sigh, moving to the couch. “Tell me about it.”

CHAPTER 33

The saddle bags rattled, the sound of glass clinking together reaching my ears. Askel grimaced as he handed me a second bag to hang on Nala’s opposite flank. “How many potions do you expect me to sell?”

“All of them,” I replied, a smile on my lips. “Come on, Askel, you’ve fought in wars, how hard can it be to sell a few potions? And some aren’t even potions; they’re just spices in jars.”

He groaned. “I’ll be at the market all day.”

“That’s the point,” I reminded him with a smirk.

Askel frowned but said nothing more as he guided the horse forward. I followed, ensuring the bags were balanced on both sides of the horse so Nala wouldn’t injure herself.

I’d read all the books I’d found in Malheim to Askel, except the book of whispers. We’d deduced that the purple book, which I now knew I’d likely pulled from Friar’s new bedroom, held a healing power, though we hadn’t been able to test it much beyond the papercut I’d given myself while reading. The other books contained empathy, the power to control water, the power to call fire and one that gave the power to boost growth. It was the last one that we’d been able to use the most, and the reason why we had so much to take to market now.

I’d started keeping a list of the books we had, as well as the ones I’d burned. The books I’d recently acquired, other than the healing book—which, we weren’t sure where it originated from—all matched with the ones Signa claimed to have once surrendered to Adis. We hadn’t yet found the book for controlling metal, or the one that granted extra strength—both of which Signa stated she’d turned over to Adis—but I had a hunch they might still be in Ralheim, something I was planning to remedy today.

I just hoped the books I was looking for weren’t the ones that Otho had taken to Shianp, but there was no way to know for sure until we searched.

I was also hoping the book of wind was still where I left it—tucked in my former cell in Ralheim.

“What if Otho gave the books to the king?” Askel piped up, practically reading my thoughts, even though I knew he hadn’t read that book.

That was the part of my plan that I wasn’t sure how to solve. While it was easy for me to disperse information in Heimland, the continent was bigger than these three cities, and when I said everyone deserved the opportunity to learn magic, I meant everyone.

“We focus on teaching reading first and foremost, and then we will worry about finding more books.” I chewed on my lip, unsure why I was reassuring Askel when we both knew the answer was murky.

Askel sighed but didn’t speak. I knew he was worried about the confrontation we were marching into headfirst.

He hadn’t returned to Otho and had been living with me for the past fortnight, helping me complete the harvest during the day and learning to read the Seid magic at night. I’d argued that Otho said only to return once Askel had verified that I was okay, which was open for interpretation, but he felt a loyalty to Otho that even stopping the belladonna hadn’t revealed to me.

Of course, merely thinking his name sent jolts into my heart, but I knew that he wouldn’t approve of my plan, and though I would eventually forgive him, rushing to do so was futile while my vision for the world would drive us apart again.

I’d heard surprisingly nothing from Collum or anyone in Malheim, despite my practical declaration of war. And I knew there was only one reason my cabin hadn’t been burned to the ground yet—well, two, actually.

One, Collum was like everyone else, underestimating me and what I could accomplish. And two, because she still loved me and cared for me in some capacity.

The question was how long that would last.

It doesn’t matter, I lied to myself as Ralheim rose on the horizon.

My steps slowed as we passed the city limits. It was painful to walk the streets of my childhood, knowing that I would never feel at home here again. But it was nice to see Roger, the butcher’s son, who greeted us with a smile and a wave as we set up in the square across from his father’s shop. His hands were full of items wrapped in white paper as he ducked inside, but moments later, he was back, crossing the square to talk to us.

“Hello. I came to see what spices you had for sale.” His gaze was on Askel, not me.

I pointed to the jars Askel was currently placing on the blanket we’d brought just for this purpose. “You name it—we’ve got almost everything.”

He knelt down, picking up various jars and inspecting them. Askel’s eyes connected with mine over his head, and he dipped his chin in encouragement.

I cleared my throat. “Roger?”

“Yes?” he asked, without looking up from the jars. There wasn’t even a flicker of surprise at my knowing his name.

“I know you lost your mother in the Purge, but I was wondering if you would like to . . . uhh, help us with a project.” I stumbled over the last few words—nervous I would divulge too much to someone who wasn’t an ally.