Letting the happiness inside her flow out, Meena leaned forward and dropped a light kiss on Celesta’s turned-up nose. The girl was probably too old for that kind of endearment, but Meena could think of no other way to easily communicate her affection and joy at practically having a younger sister. Celesta was family now, and Meena would never let anyone say otherwise.
The younger girl scrunched up her nose and threw her arms around Meena’s neck. For someone so small and scrawny, Celesta had an impressive grip.
Meena gladly returned the wholehearted hug. “You are the best partner in crime I’ve ever had.” The words poured from her lips before she remembered Celesta would not be able to hear them.
She must have sensed Meena’s movement, for Celesta leaned back out of the hug, training her eyes to Meena’s lips.
Meena repeated the words, using her hands to emphasize as much of the sentiment as she could think to do quickly.
Celesta appeared to have understood. She patted the acorn in her pocket and attempted to wink—which resulted in both her eyes quickly squeezing shut.
Meena winked back.
“What are you two cyphers conspiring about?” Erich called, bringing Meena’s attention back to the small castle glade. “Want to enjoy this feast with us?”
Grabbing Celesta’s hand, Meena shook her head. Erich and Aizel had only been married for a handful of days and they had not had much time alone yet. She’d only meant to jest with them for a moment before leaving them in peace. “We have more important things to do. Secrets and adventures and such.”
Erich waved them away with a laugh.
Not quite ready to leave, Meena narrowed her eyes and pointed to the basket of food. “But we will demand a tax of your very finest feast to sustain us on our adventures.”
“Of course,” Aizel responded.
Moments later, Meena and Celesta crawled back into the bushy tunnel, happily munching on two small meat pies.
Chapter 2
Sol tilted his head back, gulping down the refreshing liquid from the soft waterskin. He hadn’t slaked his thirst since midday. The merciless sun had been a constant companion as he traveled on foot.
Though the waterskin was barely half full, Sol resisted his desire to empty its contents. The older man standing next to him was also thirsty and the soldier standing over them did not look patient.
Five other Quotidian soldiers were setting up camp for the night in the small glade they’d found off the main road. The soldiers were dressed like woodsmen to hide their true profession from passing travelers. Standing under the guard’s grim stare, Sol thought the shallow cruelty in his eyes was a far cry from the man’s disguise. Perhaps all Quotidian men had the same shallow stare.
Sol, too, was dressed as a woodsman, but he was no soldier. The cowl around his neck not only increased the effects of the sun, it also hid the small gemstone tied snuggly around his neck. The soldiers knew it was there, of course. They had placed it around his neck and they wanted it to remain out of sight.
What the soldiers didn’t know, however, was that the gemstone around his neck was a counterfeit.
With a strength of will he prided himself on, Sol swallowed and passed the remaining water to his fellow prisoner.
Neven took the waterskin and quickly raised it to his lips. Just as the first drops of water spilled from the spout, however, the soldier standing guard over them snatched it from his hands.
Sol curled his hands into fists as his clenched jaw pressed forward. Literally biting back his tongue, he forced himself to hold in the curses he wished to spew. Six weeks of self-control had made his tongue rather raw, but the pain reminded him to stay still despite his tense body.
Tipping the waterskin upside down, the soldier let the remaining liquid pour onto the mossy ground at their feet. “Just thought you might want a taste of what’s to come.” His face held a smile, but it was not one of happiness.
“A parched throat?” Neven spat.
Sol tilted his face forward to hide his hatred and disdain from the soldier. Their captors enjoyed tormenting them, especially when Neven or Sol responded with emotion. At the moment, Neven was giving the man exactly what he wanted.
The soldier twisted the waterskin, wringing the last few drops of water from it. “Squeezed. Drained. Depleted.” He forced another drop from the waterskin. “The mages in Chendas will eke out every drop of magic in your carcass, day after day.” The soldier dropped the now-empty waterskin at his feet.
Neven made the motion of spitting at the soldier’s feet, but his mouth was too dry to complete his defiant action.
A light breeze fluttered through the forest around Sol, and he bristled his shoulders as it tickled his neck. A strong desire spiraled through his core. He breathed in deeply, smelling the fresh scent of the wind as he inhaled it. His throat longed to open, to release the soothing vibration of a powerful song. He could bend the wind to his submission and use it to distract the soldiers while he and Neven escaped into the forest.
He was a hated stranger in an unknown land. His time was near. He forced his body to remain still despite the pulsing rage which pounded from his feet to his fists.
The other soldiers laughed at the guard’s cleverness. Neven’s tormenter turned to join them, lifting his shoulders in pride.
