Page 13 of The Scouts

He must’ve heard the urgency in my tone because he stopped at once and helped me to my feet.

Not a moment too soon, either. I staggered away from him to the side of the road, doubled over and deposited the contents of my stomach right into the surface gutter.

I considered my humiliation complete when—after the queasiness had passed and I’d straightened myself up—I realised that Lochan had been supporting me from behind and holding back my hair.

How fucking wonderful.

I glanced around. The streets were mercifully empty, but it brought me no comfort.

The one time I’d really needed to stay composed and collected, I’d fallen apart. I let go of the only thing, as far as I knew, that Lochan truly loved about me—my control. Having him witness yet another display of my weakness—that very night of all—had my ears burning with shame.

By the time we arrived at the bastion, the inside of my cheek I’d been chewing on started to bleed.

I directed my steps towards the courtyard well. I bent over to get under the tap and gave Lochan a nod to press on the hand pump.

Standing under the splashing stream of icy water drew gasps and splutters out of me. In the end, I rinsed my mouth and wiped it with my sleeve. Freshened up in that fashion, my hair and upper body dripping wet, I waited for the brain fog to clear.

To aid the process, I fumbled inside my inner chest pocket and fished out a root of darhê. Before I could locate my knife, Lochan whipped out a wrist dagger and proceeded to peel a slice for me—way smaller than I would’ve treated myself to.

I grimaced at this rationing, but let it slip. Lowland Elves had, sadly, no appreciation for darhê.

Right away, the spongy flesh released a refreshing, spicy taste into my mouth. A welcome sense of alertness sharpened my focus and accelerated my pulse.

Once we got inside, I couldn’t stop trembling, as much from the cold as from emotional drainage. While I made a beeline for the linen cupboard to change my soaked clothes, Lochan lit the lamp and set about starting the fire.

A moment later, I sat on the bed cross-legged, towelling my hair. I considered Lochan, who squatted in front of the wood burner.

Sharing extended stretches of quietude with him had never troubled me—that had defined the nature of our relationship from the start. I was also accustomed to being the one who would break those silences most of the time. But right then, the hush between us had taken on a new note—it seemed fraught and strained. It weighed down on me like a millwheel. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know what to say. Simply asking, How did it go? would’ve been cringeworthy. So I swallowed that question, regardless of how much I needed to know what had transpired and how Lochan felt about it. On the flip side, I almost wished he wouldn’t tell me, for fear of what I might learn.

At some point during the previous night, when I wasn’t paying attention, I must’ve turned into a pathetic drunkard and a coward. Such realisation didn’t sit well with me.

Gingerly, I palpated my chin and winced at the pronounced tenderness lingering there. My throat seemed inlaid with sawdust. Fucking moonshine. That reminded me of another matter.

“The guards in the tavern,” I rasped. “What of them?”

He rose to stand. “They shouldn’t have jumped you.”

Not that I disagreed, but it didn’t answer my question. Lochan, when entering his fight-and-protect mode, tended to get a pinch overzealous at times. “You didn’t beat them up too badly, did you?”

Lochan awarded me an intense look, the meaning of which left me clueless. At my insistent returned stare, he replied in the end, “Nothing a few days in the infirmary won’t cure.”

Excellent. Just bloody brilliant.

That’d clarified where we stood on one issue, at least. In other words—we were fucked.

“Heinnés will have our knobs on a platter for this,” I muttered and shut my eyes, pressing on them with the heels of my palms.

“Want to sleep it off?” he asked softly.

I couldn’t deny the idea had a certain appeal. I did feel like shit and he hadn’t caught a wink either. Snatching a couple of hours’ rest and feeling more Elven—before Heinnés got up, found out about last night and called us in to rip us a new one—made sense. Instinctively, though, I knew that any further delay in clearing the air would take a detrimental toll on us. Annoyance spiked in me at the suspicion that Lochan didn’t grasp that. Or was he deliberately trying to postpone the conversation?

I opened my eyes to squint at him. Unsure if I could keep my voice steady, I shook my head. The action I immediately regretted, my sore noggin considered.

An odd shadow crept upon Lochan’s face. He still stood there with his jaw set and mouth closed.

At that point, something snapped inside me. My annoyance had given way to something more potent—something bitter and ugly.

I’d felt a variety of emotions during that seemingly endless day and night, none of them pretty. Jealousy. Helplessness. Resentment. Fear. Inadequacy. But I’d kept my anger under lock and key. Until now. Seeing Lochan not trying hard enough to rectify the situation pushed fury right into the driving seat of my wagon.