Page 16 of The Blade in the Ashes
He groaned, eyes sparkling, as his tongue darted out over his lower lip. “The one with the cherry tarts?”
I nodded. It had only been a few months since I’d last been in that bakery, but it felt like a lifetime ago. I could still see it as clearly as if I were standing on the pastel tiled floors, though. I could almost taste the crystalized sugar atop the puffed pastry.
“Do you remember the days when the baker’s niece would visit from the Republic of Inanis?”
Rankor moaned. “She would make those cinnamon buns with fresh spices from the Republic. Gods, I would sell my left leg for one of those right now.”
I laughed in agreement.
“That’s the hardest part about war.” Rankor’s voice went distant. “You never realize what things you’re going to miss most until you’re sleeping on the cold ground and fighting for your life every day. Then, all the sudden you wish you had bought just one more cinnamon bun.”
My gut cinched with sadness as I looked at him. For all the horror that lay in my memories, Rankor had seen more battle than any of us. In fact, no one had mentioned it, but I was sure the others had noticed that his nightmares had come back.
Although, to be fair, we all seemed to have nightmares these days.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one struggling to pretend to be okay.
“You can have the cinnamon bun,” I quipped. “I’d be happy for one night with the baker’s niece.”
He laughed, appreciation for the change in topic layered under his next words. “Fair enough. That girl was definitely something to look at.”
Forcing a smile to remain on my face, I scanned out over the woods once more, assessing for any threats. Our travels had been relatively easy so far. There was a gentle breeze in the air, rustling the leaves of the trees around us. Just ahead, a chipmunk bolted over the top of a tree stump.
Wait.
My eyes narrowed on that stump, tracing over the weathered cracks along its top, the moss growing around it.
I inclined my head as I considered it, feeling an odd sense of familiarity sparked by that tree stump. Familiarity that was quickly followed by a strange feeling of impending doom.
I knew that tree stump.
I knew these woods.
“Where did you say we were going again?”
My chest grew tight as Rankor cleared his throat. “Eagirton.”
Eagirton.
An estate in Eagirton.
There was only one estate that I knew of in Eagirton that could be large enough for our group.
We couldn’t possibly be traveling to—
There was a sharp stomping against leaves, and before I could react, men poured out of the woods, raising weapons and surrounding us. My hand flew to my thigh instinctively, and I palmed my dagger just as Rankor pulled the sword from the scabbard on his hip.
“Well, now. What a pleasant surprise!”
I froze.
That voice.
Gods, I knew that voice. I would know that voice on my deathbed.
An icy pang, cold and unforgiving, struck down my spine, and without even thinking I was turning my head—drawn to him like a moth to a very dangerous flame.
He emerged from the group of men to my left, wearing his characteristic leather trousers and cuffed tunic. Even after all this time, he still adorned his fingers with those various golden rings. His hair was just as brilliantly copper as the last time I’d seen him, although it hung a little longer, dangling past his shoulders now.
