“Oh, um, not particularly, no.”
“Whatdoyou enjoy?”
I looked into Rade’s face, our shoulders almost touching, and found myself answering as Samira. “Bread.”
A surprised laugh huffed out of him. “Bread?”
“Fresh bread,” I amended. “When it’s just out of the oven.” I could practically see Chef Nena standing in the middle of that kitchen, kneading the dough. The flour would puff up around her until she set to digging her fists into the pile of dough, wrestling it into submission. It would suck up all the flour and was almost a living thing when she tossed it into the open-faced oven.
I’d watched Chef Nena do it many times while I’d waited with Tabia to bring my princess’s tray up to her room. My voice was a distant whisper when I said, “When you crack it open, steam wafts up, straight to your nose, and that steam has asmell. Gods, a wonderful, homey smell. And then the taste—” I drew to a stop as Inoticed Rade staring. “Sorry, that was—that was probably not what you were—”
“No, please, go on.” He chuckled as he turned to face me more fully. “I’ve never heard anyone speak so passionately about bread.”
My face heated, and I glanced away shyly. “I don’t get to have it often, so…”
“Can’t you ask for it whenever you want?”
Yes,Amunet, you can. “It takes water to make bread,” I quickly covered.
“Right.” Rade stared at me a beat longer before he turned to the waterproof oiled bag sitting beside him and rummaged around. “Now, it’s not fresh,” he warned. “In fact, it’s probably a bit stale—and made with salt water, so it’s…” He pulled out a hunk of bread. Thick, instead of the flat disk I was used to.
My eyes widened all the same.
That last night in Khada Palace, I’d very nearly snatched it off the princess’s discarded plate. Just a nibble. That was all I’d wanted. And here… here was a piece so big I needed both hands to hold it.
“We also don’t make it often,” he said when I stared in stunned silence. “Only on special occasions. But it was left over from the Lunar Feast, so…”
Mama had made bread once—or at least, once that I could remember. In my memory, there was no face to accompany the worn hands that held it out to me, but I knew she’d had a bright smile. And Baba’s warm laugh had echoed around me as I dug into the bread with both hands, dipped it in whatever curry Mama had made that night.
Just hours before I’d been taken.
I’d never resented my life in Khada Palace while I was there. Or at least, not since the inclination was beaten out of me. I was lucky to serve the Gods-Chosen, to have access to water and a safe place to sleep.
But between my revelation in the Eye and this log of bread, the sound of Baba’s laugh fading into the whistling wind, I loathed the life I’d had. And yearned for the one that had been stolen from me.
“Sorry,” Rade said, eyes darting all over my face. “I thought it would be nice—”
“It is nice.” I took his hand and squeezed, even as a ridiculous tear trailed down my cheek. “Thank you.”
His smile was soft, sympathetic, and he nodded toward the bread. “Try it.”
I smiled and took a bite. Despite the protection of the bag, it was damp from our swim, the crust too chewy, the inside too spongy. “It’s delicious.”
FORTY-THREESAMIRA
I fisted my hand in the fabric of Rade’s tunic at his shoulder as I hobbled over a particularly large rock. The clouds blocked out the sun, and if I’d thought Frostguard was cold, it was nothing compared to the tundra of the White Horn Mountains. Their peaks created a funnel of cold air that was a near-constant blast, making my ears burn and my nose run.
Our clothing was thin, a necessity for our swim in the lake, but how I longed for a fur cloak or the unnatural body heat of a Shifter.
Keir’s searing chest against my back. The hot puffs of his breaths over my lips. The burning hardness against the small of my back—
Not that Shifter.
We’d been walking for hours. Those numbing leaves Rade had wrapped around my wounds had worn off, and now each step was like a blade scraping against my ankle. The trek would’ve been a struggle even if I were in perfect health; the terrain was rocky, the air too thin, and the overcast sun reflecting off the icy rocks was near blinding.
At least we had conversation to help pass the time. It started with Rade trying to distract me from my pain with a funny story about the first time he’d seen Keir change forms as a young boy and had screamed so shrilly, Keir still hadn’t let him live it down. Hecontinued effortlessly throughout the day, pointing out that if we were going to be married, we ought to know a bit more about each other. I couldn’t correct him.
I’d never really had someone to talk to before. My friendship with my roommate, Nadia, had been one of silent understanding, and Tabia had been nothing more than a kind face most days. This was… nice.
