Page 63 of The Half King
Cerise made a special effort to hold his gaze, to give him no reason to doubt the lie that was about to follow. “Our guide has some blessed objects—gifts from priests,” she said. “And it’s a good thing, too, because their blessings kept us safe until you arrived. The goddess was watching us with her merciful eye. Don’t you agree?”
Father Padron said nothing at first, only looked at her in silence until her pulse ticked and she had to remind herself to breathe. She sensed that her deception hadn’t fooled him, though she hoped she was wrong, because she didn’t have a better story to tell.
“Yes, Cerise.” The grip around her wrist loosened. “The goddess rewards the faithful. But her betrayerswillsuffer until the end of days. You would do well to remember that.”
15
They made camp with hours to spare before sunset, but the distant screeching of harpy vultures reminded them that daylight was no guarantee of safety on the blighted mountain. No sooner had they tethered their horses and pitched the first tent than a shadow passed over the sun. They glanced up at a pair of dark, leathery wings spanning at least ten men in width, each tipped by a razor-sharp talon. It was lucky that Father Padron had recovered enough strength to cast a protective enchantment over the camp.
After that, tensions unwound and postures relaxed. Even General Petros seemed lighter, letting loose an occasional smile as he helped Nero clean the ram they had killed earlier in the day. When the mutton was done roasting, the general carved the beast and offered the first serving to Father Padron.
“With your permission, Your Majesty,” General Petros added.
“By all means,” Kian said, sweeping a hand. “Our high priest has earned it.”
Father Padron accepted the honor, but he elected to eat inside his tent, where he could spend the rest of the afternoon in meditation. As soon as he excused himself, Nero released a breath and unclenched his shoulders. Clearly, not everyone felt safer under the Order’s protection.
The group gathered around the roasting pit and swapped stories while they ate. General Petros had the most to say, recounting his favorite hunting tales as he paced a circuit to burn off his perpetual anger. Cerise sat in between Daerick and Nero. On the other side of the fire, Kian reclined against a tree stump with his long legs crossed at the ankles.
Every time Cerise glanced at Kian, she found him watching her. It wasn’t an absent stare or the blank look of someone deep in thought. He wasn’t peering through her or even at her. More likeinsideher. And he didn’t bother trying to avert his gaze when she caught him. If anything, his focus deepened. He held her with his eyes and made every soft part of her dance. The contact was so intense that she only lasted a moment before she had to glance down and feed Blue another slice of meat from her plate.
“You don’t like my mutton?” Nero pointed at her untouched food. “Is there no pleasing you?”
“I’m not hungry,” she told him, which was true. Maybe the heat was to blame, or the stress from the journey. Less than a day ago, she had bloodied her blade for the first time. That would crimp anyone’s appetite.
“Eat,” General Petros muttered while chewing. His gaze darted to her full plate, and for a moment, his eyes went wild. But he clenched them shut and breathed deeply through his nose. His eyes were still closed when he growled, “You do us no favors by starving yourself in penance for whatever sins you think you’ve committed.”
“Penance?” Cerise repeated. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
The general fixed his gaze on the fire. “Lanna, my woman at the temple, does it, too. She punishes herself for loving me. It began with fasting, and when that wasn’t enough, she moved on to cutting her flesh. There’s a new scar every time I see her. She used to hide them from me, but now she’s run out of places—” He cut off, clenching his teeth and his fists in a struggle for control. “I hate what they taught her, what they taught all of you. For twisting her mind and making her feel ashamed—” He shut down again. The skin on his head was so flushed it nearly blended with his tattooed flames.
Cerise didn’t know what to say to him. He loved an oracle who was slowly killing herself with the guilt of loving him back. There were no words to fix that. She wondered for the hundredth time if the Order had lied to her about sins of the flesh dimming the Sight. The general’s mistress had incredible power; meanwhile, a chaste second-born like Cerise had no gift. Could it be that the act of love made the Sight stronger, not weaker? But if that was the case, then why would the Order try to weaken a woman’s ability to serve the goddess? That would benefit no one. Perhaps the Order was right and the general’s mistress would’ve been even more powerful if she had refused physical love.
Cerise hated that she had no way of knowing. And she would have to swallow her feelings for Kian until she did.
“I promise I’m not starving myself,” was all she could think to say.
The general drove one fist into his opposite hand. He muttered an apology to the king and then charged out of sight.
“Should we go after him?” Cerise asked. “He’s outside the line of protection.”
Kian shook his head. “Any beast that crosses his path will find itself relieved of its limbs. Let him be.” He nodded at her plate. “And please do eat.”
She tore off a bite and chewed mechanically. The mutton felt as greasy and dense as the jackrabbit had the night before. When she swallowed it, her stomach churned. She forced down one more bite and had to spit the next mouthful into the fire.
“I can’t,” she said over the saliva flooding her mouth. She pushed her plate to Blue and let him have the rest. “I think the jackrabbit made me sick. I haven’t felt right since.”
Nero cast her a disbelieving glance. “You didn’t eat enough jackrabbit to make a bird sick.”
“Maybe these will help.” Kian drew his tin of stomach soothers from his pocket. He started to toss it to her, but he changed his mind and walked around the fire. He crouched down by her side and placed the tin in her palm, curling both hands around hers. It was such a tender gesture that for one moment, she forgot that she evenhada stomach. “The sun will set soon,” he murmured to her. “Will you allow me to escort you to your tent?”
A smile lit her heart. “I would love that.”
He extended a palm to help her stand, and then he kept her hand and settled it on his rounded bicep. He guided her the short distance to the outskirts of camp while Blue trotted along behind them. When they reached her tent, Kian held open one of the canvas flaps for her and ushered her inside. Cerise ducked low and inched her way to the blanket pallet she had made on the floor. She didn’t expect Kian to follow her, but she was glad when he did.
“Lie down,” he whispered, closing the tent flaps behind him.
She couldn’t help but grin. “Are you going to tuck me in?”
