Dreary as our future seemed, Kael still managed to taunt and jest and brighten the journey. I did not wish this upon any of us, but was selfishly delighted I was here with him instead of facing it alone.
Hilda slept against Edvin’s shoulder while he kept watch on the distant seas. There was little I could say to ease his heartache. So I said nothing, and merely squeezed his shoulder before rounding the mast to find my place.
Golden ribbons of sunlight drifted beyond the horizon, and opposite were shades of gray and black—the hills of Stonegate. As Emi promised, by nightfall we would make land.
On the other side of the mast, one elbow propped on the rail, was Ashwood.
Unlike Emi, Roark kept his seax on his hip and a bearded ax tied to a sheath on the small of his back. He curled two fingers, signaling for me to join him, and when I hesitated it only drew out a wretchedly intriguing half grin on his mouth.
I folded my arms over my chest, let out a breath of annoyance, and went to the rail. “What can I do for you,Sentry Ashwood? Come to thieve more plums?”
Gods, I was a damn fool. To provoke a man like Ashwood surely would end with my neck slit and my bones draped from the mast.
But Roark’s wild eyes brightened, as though he took delight in my petulance.
“It amuses you, doesn’t it?” I stepped closer, a mere pace away. “I know you marked my cart. You knew who I was from the beginning.”
Ashwood took a slow, sweeping inspection of me with his eyes, drinking me in from brow, to throat, down my chest to…
I folded my arms over my body.
Roark plucked a scrap of parchment from a pouch on his belt. With his opposite hand he made a gesture of writing, then tilted his head, brows arched like a query.
After a pause, he waved his palms.
“You want to know if I understand you or you need to write?”
He smirked. I hated when he smirked.
“I’m picking up your words rather quickly. Try me.”
Again, the Sentry paused. Not from any sort of satisfaction, more like he was displeased he hadn’t frightened me into submission.
With one hand, he spoke slowly, giving me time to catch the words.Have you ever had a decent meal?
Bastard. “I ate plenty before you tore innocent lives apart.”
For a breath, Roark seemed stunned I understood. There wasn’t time or desire to explain how his gestures resonated within me, as though the words were felt, not studied on his fingers.
I wanted to feelnothingfor a man such as him, and certainly didn’t want him to know I was failing.
He went on.I was not the one who hid a melder.
“No,” I said, voice rough. “But you gave the orders to tear us from home. You ordered her to hurt Kael.”
If Ashwood held any remorse, he didn’t show it, merely nodded with a simple gesture.True.
Anger, fear, all of it was freeing my tongue. “Why did you not take me in the Fernwood? You find satisfaction in toying with the fears of others, is that it? How did you know it was me when we have never met?”
He didn’t respond with his hands. Instead, Ashwood took up the parchment again and a narrow charcoal stick from the pouch. He hurriedly wrote out a few words and slid the parchment along the rail, waiting for me to take hold before removing his hand.
Our fingers brushed. I recoiled at once. His touch should’ve been cold, unfeeling, not…warm.
Roark frowned and flexed his fingers before curling them back into a fist, nodding with irritation for me to read.
My methods are my own.
When I merely scowled and looked away from his response, Roark added to the parchment.
