It was another two weeks before Harlan was walking. His wounds had closed, and his strength had returned, though he tired quickly.
‘At least another two weeks before you can resume training,’ the physician told him. ‘I suggest you take up reading.’
Harlan spent the next week trying to gain back some of the weight he had lost and taking walks outdoors to get some colour back in his face. While he was desperate to lay eyes on Blake, he was determined not to show up looking sickly.
During the second week, he grew restless and told his father he had to get out of the barracks for a few days.
‘And go where?’ Shapur asked.
Harlan brushed a finger down his nose. ‘I thought I might go to the house, see what kind of condition it’s in.’
Shapur squinted and looked away. ‘Suit yourself.’
The house had sat abandoned for years. Occasionally his father would call in to ensure there were no squatters living there, but he never lingered. Harlan had avoided the place completely. It held too many memories.
His mother humming in the garden.
His father lifting him onto his horse.
His parents dancing outside together when they thought he was asleep.
His father smiling when his mother entered the room.
His fathersmiling.
When had he stopped? When had she?
Nothing like a near-death experience to bring childhood memories to the surface. Usually he would just shove them back down again, but he had another idea this time.
‘I want you back training in seven days,’ Shapur said before walking off.
Harlan requested a horse and filled a saddlebag with supplies. He rode out into the merchant borough, stopping his horse in the square and looking off down the street where Blake lived. Drawing a breath, he nudged his horse forwards.
People moved off the road as he approached, watching him pass by. He was halfway down the street when he spotted Blake playing gameball with a group of boys half her age. She looked thinner than he remembered but no less beautiful. She kicked the ball to another boy and shoved her opponent lightly, laughing when he shoved her back.
Blake truly was a sight when she laughed.
Her hair was out, a dark mess going in all directions as she ran and played. She kept tucking it behind her ears, and it kept springing free every time she moved.
It seemed a shame to ruin the moment, so he just stood there watching, drinking in every visual of her. He thought about turning away and leaving her be, but a part of him knew there was no turning away from her anymore. He was greedy for more, wanting to feel her eyes on him.
A few breathless steps and a kick of the ball later, he got his wish. Blake’s arms went up as the ball sailed through a target marked out in charred wood. Some of the boys groaned and kicked the ground while others roared with excitement and ran circles around Blake. She reached out to ruffle their hair and caught sight of Harlan. The smile froze on her face.
‘Let’s play again,’ one boy said.
She looked back at him. ‘Maybe later.’
Harlan pushed his horse into a walk, meeting her halfway. His eyes fell to the hem of her skirt, which was covered in mud. ‘Merchant,’ he said by way of greeting.
Blake looked him over. ‘Commander.’ She reached out to pet his horse. ‘Good to see you up and about.’
He looked past her to where Candace Suttone was now chasing the duck down the street. ‘I thought you would have eaten that thing by now.’
Blake turned to see what he was talking about, then, spotting the rogue duck, ran into its path. She snatched it up off the ground and pressed it to her chest. ‘We need to fatten him up first.’
‘You’re attached,’ he said matter-of-factly.
She frowned up at him before turning to her out-of-breath mother.
