Mist curled through the trees, fogging the ground. I tugged my pack higher onto my shoulder and rejoined the path we’d found the night before. Dappled morning sunlight shone through the trees; birdsong soaked the air. When Ragnar fell into step beside me, there was something so strangely comforting about his steadying presence there. It wasn’t often I walked the lonely road with someone else, but it didn’t feel as odd as I’d thought it might.
In fact, there was a quiet inside of me, a calmness to my pace. I didn’t feel like I was running away from anything. And it was then I realized I hadn’t thought of my past or my late parents in days.
“A gold coin for your thoughts,” Ragnar said, his deep voice penetrating the silence.
“You don’t want to know. It’s sad things.”
“Of course I want to know, but only if you feel ready to share.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know all about sad things, Lil.”
I nodded. It seemed like he did. So I said, “I was thinking about my family back in Edda. I lost them all, other than my brother Rivelin, when I was young. The conquering emperor—the one you fought—he sent his mercenaries into our town after the elves rose up against him. My parents, they told my brother and I to run. We’re the only ones who got away. I suppose I’ve been running ever since.”
Brushing a few tears away, I sighed. I couldn’t believe I’d told Ragnar all this. It had been a long time since I’d talked about my family. I’d been avoiding it, I realized. And instead of feeling that gaping hole inside me, I almost felt…okay. My feet didn’t itch to run.
Ragnar gently placed his hand on my back. “I’m so sorry, Lilia. That bastard killed my family, too.”
I looked up at him. “Because of the Elven Resistance?”
“Something like that.”
I nodded, and we fell into silence, but it was the good kind of quiet, where you understood the weight of the other person’s thoughts. He got me, and I got him, and no words would change our past. But this companionship, this connection…it made it all feel bearable for once.
After a long while, I cleared my throat. “So, you said you’d give me a gold coin if I shared my thoughts. Do you even have any after you paid for that overpriced pie back there? The ones we didn’t eat.”
He chuckled. “Perhapsthatis how I’ll earn back the debt my brother owed. Steal a bunch of your ale, bake some pies with it, and sell it for five times the normal asking price.”
“You try stealing my next batch of ale, and I’ll find a use for the dagger in my waistband.” I wrinkled my nose at him.
“Oh ho! She’s getting feisty now.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet. Just wait until we catch up with Thieving Pie Man.”
“Thieving Pie Man,” Ragnar mused, rubbing his jaw. “That has a mighty fine ring to it. Think he’d mind if I use it on my sign when I start my thieving pie business?”
I giggled. Ragnar grinned. And I was so busy looking up at him that I almost walked into a tree.
“Whoa there.” Ragnar caught my arm and wheeled me to safety just in time. Somehow, we ended up facing each other. My palms found his chest. His hands brushed my hips. Swallowing, all I could hear was thepound, pound, poundof my racing heartbeat.
“You have a beautiful laugh,” said Ragnar, his eyes on my lips. “I wish I heard it more.”
“I…”
The clattering of cart wheels jolted through me. Bones practically leaping out of my skin, I jumped back with a hand on my chest. The rattling grew louder, drawing the sound of several voices along with it.
“Is that the pie man?” I whispered, ducking behind a bush.
Ragnar peered through the mist at the road ahead, then looked behind us. Frowning, he shook his head. “It’s not coming from either direction.”
“Then where can they be?” Cocking my head, I focused my elven hearing on the wheels. The sound roared in my head, coming not from the road but…
I looked toward the left, through the trees, just as Ragnar did. “It’s coming from that direction, but how? Surely they wouldn’t go through the woods with a cart.”
“The road must wind back in on itself as it heads toward the mountains.” A wicked smile curved his lips. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Shortcut to pie man,” I murmured.
“Exactly.” A mischievous gleam lit his eyes. “We don’t have a cart, so we can go through the woods and cut them off on the other side.”
20
