Every now and then there’s a soft sputter, a barely stifled snort of laughter—Darius is trying to be respectful. Fenric, of course, isn’t even pretending. And I swear I hear one of Thane’s brothers wheeze behind me before quickly turning it into a cough.
I close my eyes and take a slow, shaky breath, calling on every shred of composure I have left. Maybe if I focus hard enough, I’ll dissolve into the breeze and be carried off into the mountains forever.
We wait there awkwardly, the silence saturated with everything we’re not saying. I keep my eyes fixed on a particularly interesting crack in the cobblestone, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.
Garrick shifts his weight, arms still loosely crossed, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Didn’t realizeshitwas the fifth element the prophecies were referring to,” he says casually, like he’s delivering a weather report. “You wear it well.”
For a heartbeat, no one moves.
Then Darius lets out a bark of laughter. Fenric follows. Even Rian—stoic, quiet, impossible-to-rattle Rian—lets out an unguarded snort before pressing a fist to his mouth like he can shove the sound back in. Jarek chuckles under his breath, shaking his head.
They begin to laugh harder, their voices rising above the murmur of the village, echoing through the square like some triumphant battle chorus—except the war they’re celebrating is my complete and utter publichumiliation.
And somehow . . . I start laughing too.
It begins as a helpless chuckle, the kind you can’t hold in no matter how hard you try. Then it builds into something wild and free and ridiculous. Before I know it, I’m doubled over, tears streaming down my face, clutching my sides because ithurtsto laugh this hard.
The smell is still there and my pride isnowhereto be found.
And yet, here we are, laughing like idiots in the middle of the village.
It’s awful. It’s embarrassing. And it’s kind of perfect. Because sometimes, when you’re covered in shit . . . there’s really nothing else you can do.
“I hateallof you,” I sputter in between gasps.
Fenric claps a hand over his heart. “And yet, somehow, you still make our lives richer.”
“And more aromatic,” Garrick adds.
I don’t even think—still riding the high of laughter. I snap, “Fuck off, Garrick.” The words leave my mouth like a shot.
And then—silence.
Darius and Fenric stop laughing mid-breath, both of them stiffening beside me. Even the birds, chirping only moments ago, seem to fall silent.
Because Garrick isn’t just another soldier. He’s Thane’s second.
I feel their eyes on me—Darius wide-eyed, Fenric barely breathing.
And in that horrible pause that follows, all I can think is:Great.Now I’ve insulted the warlord’s second-in-command while covered in horse shit.
Flawless. Absolutely flawless.
The silence stretches—one painful beat, then two.
And then Jarek barks out a laugh, sharp and sudden.Rian follows, his composed façade cracking as he actuallylaughs—a low, surprised sound that turns into something freer, brighter. Garrick grins like I handed him a gift. He steps forward and claps Darius and Fenric on the shoulders, knocking them out of their stunned paralysis.
“Oh, it’sfine, boys,” he says, still chuckling. “She’s the Spiritborn. Amara’s allowed to tell me to fuck off any time.” He turns to me, his grin softening into something warmer. “She’s earned it.”
Before I can respond, the apothecary door swings open. Thane steps out, his eyes assessing us, something folded in his hand. He crosses the few steps to me, his eyes still holding that faint glimmer from earlier. He offers a neatly folded, damp towel.
“For your . . . ” he begins, then hesitates, and to my absolute astonishment, the slightest flush creeps up his cheeks.
I blink, tilting my head. “My . . . ?”
He clears his throat, and with a quick glance downward, gestures toward the disaster zone that is my backside.
Oh. Right.
