He squints at me, taking a bite of his food.
“Are you alright?” he says in a mocking tone.
“I’m eating,” I reply.
“No, no,” he says. “This is how it starts. Small deviations. One extra mushroom today, waking up late tomorrow. Hell, at this rate, you’ll be smiling by winter.” He laughs to himself.
“That won’t happen,” I huff back at him.
“That’s a shame,” he mutters. “Had a whole speech prepared and everything,” he smirks at me, taking a swig from his cup. He stares at me for a beat before returning to his food.
“Trained already?” he asks me, though he already knows the answer. He’s doing it to prove a point.
“Yes.”
“You know, if routine were a weapon, you’d be unstoppable.”
“It is.”
“Fair,” he pauses, then adds casually, “A Mourningwing was spotted last night.”
That gets my attention.
I lower my spoon. “Not possible.”
“Tell that to the kid who came running into The Cup last night,” he says, “You’d have known if you ever ventured past these stone walls.”
“Well, he was probably drunk,” I say, returning to my food. The Stone Cup is the tavern in the local village. Many of the knights spend their evenings there, Kael included. I have always found it hard to relax and let my guard down like the others can. Most would say that’s why I’m the High Warden, but I know that’s not it.
“I thought the same,” he says before adding, “He was shouting about blue wings with a white glow.” He stops and looks up at me.
We both pause, no words, only silence.
“Where?” I say.
Kael lets out a small laugh, shaking his head as if he has won some unspoken argument.
“Already checked it out. Nothing there,” he replies, returning to his food. I don’t know why I even asked.
The Mourningwings are gone, and with them our only chance at survival.
I nod my head at him, my mind wanders, and I push my plate away half-full.
“Sunfruits are on rations now,” I say to Kael, tongue in cheek.
“Never liked them anyway, that’s good news to me. Weren’t the nicest to trade with either, those Sathyrns.”
“I’d say the Sathryns probably thought we were worse.”
“We were. But at least we are honest about the fact that we’re arseholes. I can take pride in that.” Kael’s knowledge of politics and trade deals mostly stems from ensuring his favourite beer isn’t rationed. Beyond that, he doesn’t really care.
I wish I could say the same, but I have always cared. Too much. Choosing to avoid my problems once more, I turn to Kael.
“Call the knights to the yard, training starts in fifteen,” I reply, already on my feet.
His brows lift. Just a fraction.
“You know, if something’s wrong,” he says, coming to stand beside me. Nudging my shoulder with his. “You’re terrible at hiding it.”
