I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do.
“Did you sleep?” I ask in Emberish.
He lifts one shoulder in a tense shrug. “I’m fine.”
“You not talk?”
His head jerks in my direction. “I said I’mfine.”
He’s never snapped at me. My eyebrows go up. Malin looks back over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Sephran heaves a breath. “Nothing.” He leaves a long pause, and his eyes flash with rancor. “Sir.”
Malin’s eyes narrow, and I expect him to give Sephran a sharp order, the way he did during the card game. Instead, his voice drops. “Quit being such a prick, Seph.”
Sephran draws up his reins, and the horse prances, responding to his tension. “Why don’tyousuck my—”
“Hey.” Tycho whips his head around. “Both of you. Knock it off.”
Two middle- aged men are leading a pair of mules past us with a cart full of baled straw. They must hear the warning in his tone, because one nudges the other, and their mules seem to slow. They glance over with clear interest, one of them craning his neck around.
A group of arguing soldiers would’ve been high entertainment back in Briarlock, and I’m sure it’s no different here.
Sephran’s gaze shifts to Tycho. His tone turns as cold as steel, each word as sharp as a dagger. “Yes, my lord.”
A young woman with a basket of vegetables is walking from the opposite direction, and one of the men with the mules leans close to murmur a few words to her. Her eyes widen, and we suddenly have her attention, too.
Malin has drawn a sharp breath, and he looks ready to breathe fire. Tycho reaches out to grab his forearm. “Ride on,” he says.
Beside me, Sephran’s horse jerks at the reins again, prancing sideways until he nearly collides with Teddy. “No,” Sephran says. “Maybe we should just put an end to this right now.”
Another woman on the road has joined the others. They’ve all come to a stop, and we’re beginning to attract more attention. I think I hear one of the men say something about fetching the enforcers.
I have no idea what would happen if a group of uniformed soldiers started brawling in the middle of the road, but I doubt it would end well for any of us.
“Ride on,” Tycho says, and the sharp note in his voice reminds me he used to be an officer, too. “Both of you.Now.”
For an instant, the tension seems tangible, like a wire binding us all together— a wire that won’t snap without bloodshed. Sephran and Malin are still glaring at each other, and beneath the exhaustion and fury, I see the real basis for all of it: regret and resentment.
Last night, I said that Sephran saw my sadness. Just now, I realize I’m seeinghis.
I pull an arrow from my quiver and poke Sephran in the arm with it. “Ride on,” I say quietly, echoing Tycho. “Ride on, Sephran.”
He snaps his head around like he’s going to fight withmenext, but I just raise my eyebrows at him.
Sephran gives a disgusted sigh. “Fine.”
Malin turns forward and gives his horse a nudge with his heels. “Fine.”
The men with the mules and the woman with the vegetables quickly look away, busying themselves with their own duties.
From behind us, Leo mutters, “Silver hell,” almost under his breath. “Whatwasthat?”
No one answers him. But once we’re moving, Tycho glances back at me. He has enough sense to stay silent, but his eyebrows lift, just a bit, in question.All good?
I nod slightly, but I’m really not sure. I truly thought that was going to end in a fight— and that’s the last thing we need right now. Not after the queen’s messenger was executed. Not with scravers lying in wait. We have no idea what we’ll face in the next town, and whether we’ll have to press on for the Crystal Palace— where soldiers from Emberfall may not be welcome at all.
But Tycho turns to face forward, and we ride on.
