Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
She tore a chunk from a thick slice of bread and decided not to torment herself any longer. “Helana said to ask you about being second.”
A soft growl escaped him before he said, “That’s already settled. It’s not the issue she believes it is.”
“What isn’t an issue?”
“Whether you’re in love with someone else.”
The bite of bread wedged in her throat. Why would that not matter unless he’d decided not to court her? But she wouldn’t assume that. She wouldn’t. Still she could say nothing, desperately trying to swallow while blinking the blur from her eyes. It would be stupid to die because she hadn’t seen the demon come while she was crying.
Then Bannin continued, “I’m not truly the second. My father is a Bannin, as was his father, and his father…for thirty-five generations. In the city, which smithy do you use?”
Swallowing with difficulty, she said, “I used the Horse Guard’s own. But my family uses the smithy near Anhera’s temple.”
“That is my father’s smithy.”
“Oh,” was all that she could say as understanding ricocheted through her. In the hierarchy of Galoth’s trade classes, that smithy sat at the top, and an apprenticeship there was worth its weight in gold. “That is a heavy legacy.”
He nodded. “Though not my legacy. I’m the second because my older brother is Bannin, too. I was to replace him if a horse ever kicked him in the head. So I was to work in his smithy until I was needed for more than a strong arm and back.”
And had thought to join the Horse Guards instead. “Being a spare didn’t suit you?”
“It didn’t,” he said, the amusement in his voice suggesting that was a gross understatement. He paused for a moment before adding, “Everything I ever received from my mother and father was a cast off from the First. If we’d been a poor family, perhaps I could have accepted that. Or if they had said there was no point in wasting his old things. But neither was the case. They simply did not want to expend the effort of caring for me.”
Though estranged from her own parents, at least Sarya couldn’t lay a lack of care at their feet. They had been caught in a situation that was impossible to fix. They would have fixed it, if they’d known how.
And she understood Helana’s concern now, fearing Sarya loved someone else. She’d wanted more for her brother than to be second.
Sarya wanted more than that for herself.
“Your kin use my father’s smithy?” Bannin asked carefully.
She smiled faintly. Of course he’d understood what that had meant. His father’s smithy was nobility among the trade classes, and those who used the smithy were nobles in truth. “My mother and father are both magistrates.”
He gave a soundless whistle. Galoth had no king, no royalty. Instead the warlords of ancient times had become wealthy, powerful families that formed a peaceful council of magistrates that oversaw Galoth’s protection.
“Yet you joined the Horse Guards?”
She shrugged lightly. “I have enough cousins to take up the mantle of magistrate. And my parents were always supportive of what I wished to do.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he laughed.
She nudged his back. “What is it?”
“Helana once wondered if you had begun to spend less time in the tavern because you’d drunk through whatever coin you’d brought with you. But the daughter of a magistrate would not lack for gold.”
Sarya grinned. “I do not.”
He laughed again, then seemed about to say something…but didn’t. Yet instead of a kick in the chest, Sarya ate the meal he’d prepared and amused herself by imagining what he might have said. Perhaps joking that her wealth was just another reason to court her. Or claiming that their daughter would never lack for gold, either. Or suggesting that she need not take him to her bed or her floor when he could just take her on a pile of coins.
She wasn’t certain why he was holding back, but surely it wouldn’t continue for long.
Sarya could wait.
The warm afternoon cooled to a chilly rain and a trek through sodden leaves and a dripping forest. By the time they reached the cottage, Sarya was cold and tired, and her only intention was to eat and then fall into bed.
Bannin’s unusual reticence continued through dinner, which was an unexpected—and wholly welcome—hot stew that he’d left simmering on a bed of coals before they’d left that morning. Shivering in her nightshirt and robe, she quickly hung her wet clothes in front of the fire and sat to eat. She shoveled in the first mouthfuls, then settled down to savor it, and the warmth spreading from her belly to her limbs slowly roused her brain from a cold stupor.
She glanced over at Bannin, who gulped from his mug of cider. He was not saying much, but he seemed…tense. Unable to settle. And rarely looking at her, though he’d always used to.