Page 88 of Ravenrose

Hayes strolls by, dropping off a little bundle of dried meat and fruit alongside another waterskin.

Although I’ve barely eaten in days, I’m not hungry. But aware of just how grueling the day will be, I force the food down my throat, hoping it will stay down. I need all the help I can get just to survive today.

I reach for the waterskin, meaning to down it quickly, but at the first taste, I immediately pull back when something thick and sweet fills my mouth. I frown down at the leather skin, sniffing the opening before taking another sip, slower this time.

Milk.

But it’s sweetened… milk thistle root, and honey, I think? And cinnamon.

Damn him.

I nearly choke, suppressing either a snort, a chuckle, or both.

My eyes find Ayer, busy saddling Dash and prepping for the day. I can’t tell if the pouch is meant as a kindness or a taunt, but either way, the smooth liquid feels good on my throat, and I wash the rest of it down.

The men have begun mounting their horses, so once I’m finished, I carry my blankets and empty waterskin over to where Ayer and Dash are waiting.

It’s going to be fine. You can do this. Do this.

Ayer takes the bundle of furs out of my hands without a word. I take a minute to greet Dash, rubbing my palm down the stallion’s velvety neck. The horse gives me a playful nudge with his nose.

The push, however gentle, still nearly takes me off my feet; the world tilts violently, and it’s work to steady myself.

Quickly, I glance over my shoulder, finding relief when I confirm Ayer did not see.

Or—at least I don’t think he did.

Circling back around Dash, Ayer reaches into his pocket, pulling out the cursed ropes.

My stomach twists.

He takes my wrists in his hands, tugging me slightly closer as he winds the rope around. I inhale sharply as he ties off the first knot, holding my breath again when I catch his cedar scent in my nose. Turning away, I keep my eyes on the woods as he finishes tightening and knotting the cords before dropping my hands as if I burned him.

The sudden release throws me off balance again, but I recover quickly, steadying myself before I can stumble, hoping Ayer doesn’t notice otherwise.

If he does, he doesn’t say anything.

He swings his leg up and over Dash, and we’re off.

We’re not even out of the clearing yet before my boot drags a little too much, catching on a loose stone. I overcorrect, and the rebound sets me off kilter, sending me crashing down onto one knee.

With only a second to recover before the rope drags me, I force myself back to my feet, teetering, but upright and walking.

One step after another. There you go, now do it again, I coach myself, my eyes on the ground. Which is how I nearly crash straight into Dash’s hindquarters a second later, completely unprepared for him to stop.

My throat tightens when I notice Ayer dismounting, and the look on his face is stormy, dangerous.

I take a few steps back, as far as the rope will allow, putting as much distance as possible between me and the irate captain.

“I don’t have time for this today,” Ayer says, stalking toward me, his voice sharp with irritation.

“It’s fine. It won’t happen again,” I rush out, refusing to meet his eyes. I keep my gaze fixed on the trail ahead, watching the rest of his men disappear around the bend.

“It’s not fine,” he growls, gesturing at me. “You can barely stand.”

“Not true,” I argue. “I’ll have you know… I’m standing just fine.” I lift my chin, rolling my shoulders back to showcase just how well I am standing. Hardly a sway in sight. For now.

“Get on the horse.”