Chapter. 23

Rahlan closes the door and lights the fireplace.

His bag is waiting in the corner. I poke inside in search of an apple. My hands land on the cold metal eyeball flask, and I quickly drop it in disgust. I don’t know why he has the need to collect his dead victim’s eyes, and I’d prefer never to find out.

There’s just one apple left. I quickly munch through it, but it’s not nearly enough to fill the hole that’s been growing for the last day and a half. It’s too late to fetch food now, but hopefully we’ll get some tomorrow.

A piece of paper catches my eye. It’s the letter he took from the human men we encountered at the river. He doesn’t seem to mind me digging through his stuff, so I pick the letter out of the bag.

I never learned to read, so the letter is not much more than a series of endless repeating symbols and scribbles to me. I was hoping for a map or diagram to decipher. One symbol stands out – the bow crest. This is a letter about the Huntsmen. Based on the way Rahlan was smiling when he read it, I’d bet it leads to Ivan, or at least he thinks it will.

My attention is drawn to another symbol. It looks almost like a stylized blacksmith anvil, different from the surrounding rushed scribbles. It doesn’t ring any bells. I bet the content of the letter would explain it. I’m tempted to ask what the scribbles say, but I figure that it’ll be better to appear oblivious about the Huntsmen and their dealings.

Rahlan unclips his cape, takes off his boots and hangs his coat on the door.

I grab the sleeping pouch from his bag and unroll it beside the fire. This cozy room is warm enough that I could curl up and just sleep on top of the pouch.

Rahlan pulls back the bed’s duvet. “Climb in,” he says, patting the sheet beside him.

I don’t fancy sharing a bed with him.

“I’m happy here,” I say from my spot on the floor.

“It was not a request.”

I clench my jaw, and his eyes narrow.

At a slow pace, I make my way over to him and crawl under the blanket. He wraps his arm around my torso, and the feeling of his icy chest on my back makes me squeak. A human at that temperature would be dead.

I’ve slept up against him before, like when he kept me from falling from the tree, or carried me when the ravagers were on our tail, or when we were crammed into the narrow sleeping pouch, but this bed is more than big enough for the both of us to lay without bumping into each other. Why is he holding me?

“Can’t I sleep in the cell instead?” I ask.

He lets out half a chuckle, then rests his nose on the crook of my neck and takes a deep breath.

“If you bite me, you’ll be sorry,” I warn.

“Oh, will I?” The smile is evident in his voice.

“I wet the bed when startled in my sleep.”

“You’re lying.”

“Well you better be really sure,” I say with a smirk.

His nose backs off, but his arm stays wrapped around my chest.

“You don’t have to hold me. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t try slipping away,” I say. Though I have every intention of getting away from this man, I won’t try anything tonight.

“You are like a little fire,” he says.

So the vampires want to syphon both my blood and my warmth. I sigh and wiggle around until I’m comfortable in his hold. At least the bed is cozy. Being a Lord, his bed at home must be even better.

“Why are we sleeping at an inn?” I ask.

“You prefer the wilderness?”

“Instead of your house?”

“I have no home in this city,” he says.

“But we traveled so far?”

“This was the closest mounting city.”

“Mounting city?”

“A gathering point for mounting the next offensive. I, and by extension you, have joined a campaign.”