“What?”
Brown eyes flick over to me. “Eatingmyhot food that I serve atmyfire.”
A snort escapes me. “Sorry. I’ll be sure to remember that for next time.”
“See that you do,” he says with an imperious nod. “You feeling better now?”
“Much.” And it’s true. My headache is gone, my throat no longer sore. I don’t even have a cough. Even my ribs, shoulder, and face are all healed up.
“Alright then, no reason not to be eating now.” He holds a hand up at the people in line to stop them from coming forward and then picks up an iron cup from the pile before shoving it at me. “You’ll get an extra portion tonight since you missed this morning.”
“Hey, your breakfast gave me the runs earlier. Can I get an extra serving too?” one of the men guffaws.
“No,” Keg snaps. “And you got the runs ’cause your uniform squeezes your fat ass belly all day,” he retorts, making some of the others bark out laughter.
“Here,” Keg says, knocking his spoon against my cup and filling it to the brim. “That’ll stick to your ribs.”
“Thanks, Keg.”
I tilt the cup back and drink the slop that vaguely resembles some kind of fishy chowder. Keg is right—it really does feel like it’s sticking to my insides, but not in a good way.
Yet I drink every drop, because despite the fact that I’ve lived and dined in a palace for the past ten years, I’m no food snob. I can thank my formative years for that, always hungry, never getting enough to eat.
I hand the cup back to him as soon as I finish. “Thanks. It was...good.” Ish. It was goodish.
Keg puffs up his chest in pride. He really loves feeding me for some reason. “You’re still my quickest eater, Gildy Locks.”
I pause, my eyes narrowing. “You’ve been talking to Lu, haven’t you?”
Keg grins. “I think the nickname she made for you is a good one.”
“Great,” I say dryly, though my lips twitch in amusement. It’s so strange, though, to havethis—this sense of camaraderie with him. Not once has Keg made me feel like an enemy. The opposite has been true, in fact.
Maybe that’s another reason I’ve avoided him. Every time I talk to Lu, or Keg, or Hojat, I feel a little bit like a traitor.
“Hey, asshole, how long do I have to wait for dinner?” a soldier hollers.
Keg rolls his eyes. “Bunch of whiners in this army.”
I smile. “See you later, Keg.”
“Tomorrow,” he counters. “Forbreakfast.”
“Tomorrow,” I promise before edging away from the fire.
I stretch my legs as I walk around camp, fires dotting the ground and voices a constant low roar like the sea. It’s not snowing tonight, and the air is feeling crisp and clean, the way that only wintry temperatures can. I should take the time to go visit the saddles since I’m no longer sick, but…
The thought of facing Mist makes me nauseated.
Plus, Rissa watches me now with an almost hungry expression on her face, like I’m the answer to her prayers. Though I suppose that’s better than the loathing looks from the others.
No, I’m definitely not up to visiting the saddles tonight.
Instead, I wander around aimlessly, half-heartedly looking for signs of where the commander keeps his hawks, the other half feeling guilty.
Despite my reservations and prejudgments, IlikeKeg, and Lu, and Hojat. And that...that complicates things. It makes everything not so cut and dry.
It would be so much easier on my conscience if they were cruel to me. If this whole damn army was cruel and horrible. I expected that, expected to steam beneath the pile of their stark wickedness, hissing beneath crushing punishment.
