Rowan let out a hard sigh and pulled a knife from his pocket. My stomach twisted at the sight of it, and my pulse skipped.
The knife flashed.
This was it.
My throat seized. I closed my eyes and braced for the blade—but it never came.
Instead, the pressure at my wrists gave way, and the rope slumped into the dirt. I stared at my red, raw skin, and for a moment, I almost sobbed at the ache of freedom.
“Don’t make me regret that,” he cautioned.
“Thank you,” I whispered in astonishment.
Rowan gasped. “She has manners!”
“I am polite to those who deserve kindness. Veilers are not on that list.”
“Yet, you thanked me?”
“Don’t mistake my words as kind,Veiler. This banter we have going on—it’s not cordial. The hatred I have for you runs so deep that you could save my life tenfold, and I would still happily stake a blade into your heart. You’re nothing but a monster to me, and you always will be,” I vowed.
He needed to hear my words and let them sink in. I hoped it hurt, although I doubt it did. He was a Veiler, and Veilers were known for their apathy and ruthlessness.
“Then why didn’t you?” His expression was blank, and his tone flat.
“Didn’t what?”
“Stake a blade into my heart. You had a chance. I gave it to you.”
I furrowed my brow. “That was a moment of weakness, and yougaveme nothing of the sort.”
“It takes only one moment to strike.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but my stomach spoke for me. An earsplitting gurgle issued from it, then emptiness pierced me. I folded over and clutched my stomach. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I refused to look at Rowan.
“Hungry?”
“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes.
“Stay here.”
He was gone for less than a minute, and when he returned, he was holding two bowls.
“Here,” he said, handing me a bowl. I looked inside and moved the spoon around. There was broth, chunks of carrots and cabbage, and some sort of meat.
“More stew, how wonderful,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “What’s the protein this time?”
“Rat.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Rat stew. The vegetables depend on whether local villages will trade, and the protein depends on hunting availability.”
“I’m not going to eat this.”
“That’s fine. You can starve.” His words were final and devoid of any emotion. He moved to grab the bowl from my hands, and I pulled away from him. “Seems tastier now, doesn’t it?” he remarked smugly.
When I didn’t reply to his comment, he continued.
