Page 35 of Bride of Ash & Dust

That’s so far from what I was expecting to hear that it takes me a moment to realize what he’s asking. I wrap my hands around my mug, then force myself to take another slug of the bitter ale. This time, I manage not to gag.

“Do I love Blayne?” I reply.

Zarek looks at his mug with a sad smile. “That’s his name?”

I nod. My cheeks burn, and my heart hammers like it wants to get away from this horrible place. Or maybe just this horrible conversation.

“I— I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ve never thought about it. It doesn’t matter, does it?”

Zarek’s shoulders roll as he shrugs, and then he finishes his mug of terrible ale. He looks tired. For the first time, I wonder if where he’s been and what he’s had to do has taken a toll on him.

He meets my eyes.

“Are you going to run away with him?” he asks.

I snort. It’s not very dignified, but I can’t help it. Zarek frowns, like maybe I didn’t understand the question.

“Do you want to give this all up to be with him?” he says, waving a hand at the table like I’d be giving up this shit tavern with its shit ale if I ran off with Blayne.

“No,” I reply. “Definitely not. I’m not running anywhere.”

His shoulders drop somewhat. I take another gulp of ale, just to have something to do with my hands.

“I was happy to see him,” I say, speaking slowly as the words take shape in my mind, “but, really, I think that was because he made me think of home.”

I chase my words with the bitter ale in my mug. I did enjoy the kissing, and the feeling of pushing up against something forbidden, doing something I was never supposed to do.

But would I want to run away with him? Gods, no. I imagine listening to Blayne’s lectures over the dinner table every single night and shake my head. Zarek spins his empty mug between his palms, then glances up long enough to catch my gaze.

“When is the baby coming?” he asks.

I almost spit my ale all over the table.

“What?” I finally choke.

“Do you not know?” he says. “How long has it been since you stopped bleeding?”

I stare at him. Behind us, there’s a heavy clop of feet on the stairs. Someone calls out a greeting to the woman behind the bar.

“I’m not pregnant,” I finally say. “I bled on the journey to Vsenrog.”

“That must have been uncomfortable,” he replies.

I blink. I’ve never known a man to react with anything other than awkward silence or an attempt to change the subject when a woman mentions the pain and blood she has to suffer through every month.

“So, you and, uh, Blayne,” Zarek continues. “You took precautions? Or you’re just lucky?”

I finish my ale, then stare like an idiot at the oily slick in the bottom of the mug.

“He gave me something to drink afterward,” I say, remembering the thick, bitter potion. “A kind of tea. It started my bleed right away.”

Zarek snorts. His dark eyes meet mine.

“So, he told you it was your fault,” Zarek says. “That you pushed him past the…what? The stopping point? And then he had absolutely no control over his own dick, right?”

My throat feels tight. I nod.

“But he just happened to have that exact potion with him?” Zarek finishes.