I thought about it, but I don’t say that. “Thank you for cooking.”
“Don’t thank me until you try it.”
“I’m hungry enough that I’d eat them raw.”
That’s true, but when he pulls the rabbits from the fire and I take my share, I find that the meat is tender and juicy, better than I was expecting. We eat in silence for a while, until Malin eventually says, “I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I didn’t want them to think they needed to detain you.”
There’s a careful note in his voice. Much like when he told the story about stealing Sephran’s clothes, Malin is quietly perceptive. It’s an underrated skill in a soldier—and a valuable skill in an officer. He said it was important to him to serve under the king, so I’ll have to see if I can find an opportunity to make mention of it to Grey.
I look over. “It’s all right. I’m glad we got past.”
“I forgot that they torture prisoners here.”
“Not anymore. The queen doesn’t stand for it.” But as I say the words, they sound a bit hollow. It was clear what Captain Sen Domo was offering.
“Don’t they have that torture chamber? The Stone Prison, right?Lukus Tempas?”
“They do. But it’s just a prison now.” I peer at him, because now I’m curious. “How did you come to learn Syssalah?”
“My father was an army captain at the outpost near Willminton. During the first invasion, when Syhl Shallow’s army was driven out of Emberfall, there were a lot of soldiers who tried to infiltrate the towns. To lie in wait for more, you know?”
I nod, but I don’t really know. During the first invasion, I was barely fifteen, far south of the battles in Rillisk.
“My father would get reports and round them up,” he continues. “The outpost had a small prison at the back, so he kept them there to wait for orders on what to do with them. Willminton was nearly crushed when Syhl Shallow first attacked, so my father didn’t want me to join the army, but I was nineteen, and I’d already submitted my papers. I was just awaiting news on where to report. So he started giving me the worst kind of jobs you’d give a recruit. Cleaning latrines, shoveling horse manure, that kind of thing. But also feeding and tending the prisoners.” Malin shrugs a little. “That part wasn’t too terrible. I could tell they were afraid at first. Some of them had a lot of scars. A few were missing fingers. I remember thinking I would not be eager to join Syhl Shallow’s army.”
I nod. I remember hearing stories like this from when I was a recruit onthisside of the border. “The old queen was vicious, and punished failure pretty severely.”
“Eventually they would talk to me,” he says. “At first, I picked up a few words here and there, and when I’d use them, they taught me more. I’m sure they were bored, but so was I, and this went on formonths. It got to a point where we could almost have a conversation.”
“And then what happened?”
“I got my first orders. I had to report for training.” He looks over. “When I finally earned leave to visit my parents, the soldiers were gone. My father said they were released because we were at peace, but I have no idea if they went back to Syhl Shallow or if they found a place in Emberfall. I never saw them again.”
“Wow. I’m not sure that’s a very uplifting story, Malin.” I pull the last piece of meat from my meal and toss the bone into the fire.
He laughs. “I didn’t say it was uplifting.”
“You learned a lot from the prisoners.”
“It’s not all from them. I’ve picked up more over the years. I try to practice anytime I can, especially when soldiers from the Queen’s Army travel into Emberfall.”
“You should have told me.” I switch to Syssalah and add, “We could have been practicing this whole time.”
He winces a little, then responds in kind. “I tired. Bad student. But I can try.” He grins. “No more books.”
I frown, not understanding. “No more books?”
He makes a frustrated sound. “Books . . . books . . .stories. No more stories. No words.”
That makes me smile. I take pity on him and switch back to Emberish. “Tomorrow then.” I pause. “I’m glad you speak as much as you do. It helped put Jax at ease.”
I’m not sure what he hears in my voice, whether it’s longing or concern or just a note of warmth, but whatever it is, Malin picks up on it. His focus sharpens and he looks over.
I lock my eyes on the fire and wish I hadn’t said anything at all.
A flush crawls up my neck. I hope it’s dark enough that he won’t see. There’s complete silence for a long moment, and I think he’s going to let it go.
Of course he doesn’t. “You and the blacksmith, hmm?”
