Page 197 of Forcing Fate

After gathering our belongings, I started for the main floor. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and searched the room, spotting Rafe in the far corner. I walked to him and laid our things on the table. He reached into the basket and snatched a small loaf as a maid weaved over.

My heart warmed at his acceptance of my mother’s cooking. He ate what he saw Xzanth prepare, but he hadn’t seen my mother bake the loaves. He trusted her because he trusted me. I held back a smile at his confidence.

“First meal?” she asked, placing a steaming cup of cider in front of me.

“Please,” I replied.

She smiled and tried to set out a mug for Rafe, but he brushed her away with his hand, shaking his head.

“Just one, please,” I corrected.

She hummed in confusion, but nodded and bustled away.

Rafe ate the sweetloaf and eyed the few people in the room. I took a drink of the cider, moaning in pleasure as it warmed my hands and throat. Rafe’s eye danced to me, then flitted away. I pushed the mug to him and he shoved it back.

“How long will it take before we know if it’s poisoned?” I whispered.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Depends on the poison.”

I grinned, and he sighed. He dragged the mug to him, and I watched as his throat moved, pulling the burning liquid inside. When he licked his wet lips, I stared at his mouth and thought terrible things.

The maid rescued me from my thoughts as she placed a bowl of porridge in front of me. My nose wrinkled with distaste. The flavor would be bland, but it would be warm and fill my belly. I thanked her as she refilled my mug and whisked off.

Rafe waited until I ate half the portion before snatching it and finishing the rest. I pulled a loaf out of my mother’s basket and nibbled on it. In public, he didn’t let his guard down for a breath—constantly watching and listening. He might appear focused on his food, but I saw the darting glances at the door whenever it opened. The way he positioned his body to rise quickly without the table impeding the motion.

He was always on edge, always ready to fight.

After scraping the last remnants from the bowl, he stood and donned his cloak. I followed, wrapping mine around me but pushing it back over my shoulders as he did. A man nearby eyed our patches and whispered to his friends. They turned and eyed us with lewd smiles and bloodshot eyes.

“Enjoy the night of the Solstice?” One called with a grin, glancing between us.

Rafe turned his fierce glare on them, and another laughed.

“I don’t think he did, lad. Looks like he didn’t get what–”

The man’s statement was cut short as Rafe moved. He closed the distance in three strides. He grasped the man’s hair and slammed his head onto the table. The others shouted and leapt from their seats, grabbing for their friend.

Rafe turned to me and jerked his chin at the exit. I gaped, eyes darting between him and the men, before snatching our things and heading out the door. The cold winter air bit at me, tugging at my short hair. Rafe pushed against me, then disappeared around the corner. I followed him out of the wind and into the stables. We found and saddled our horses, then set off to the barracks.

We rode in silence with our hoods pulled up. Thick snow fell in sheets and the wind lashed at us, obscuring our view. Rafe led, and I followed, not knowing the way. By the time we made it back through the barracks’ gate, Thunderbolt was covered in snow and ice. Rafe’s stallion had its head bowed against the bitter elements.

At the stables, we brushed down our horses. Thunderbolt shook his wet hair like a dog, and I laughed at his antics. After bedding him down, I caught a stableboy and told him to feed him extra for his trek in the snow.

Rafe stood at the entrance to the stables, leaning against a wall. He watched the snowstorm, tracking the swirling white flakes with his eye. I came up beside him, peering at the hazy buildings.

“The others won’t brave the storm,” he murmured.

“Then they’ll be late.” I frowned.

The punishment for being off barracks’ grounds without leave was a flogging at best, and execution at worst.

“Better late than buried in a snowdrift.” He righted himself and pulled his hood up. “The Corporals will make an exception this once.”

I nodded and wrapped my cloak tighter around myself. I followed Rafe’s lead and hefted my basket of belongings closer to me, plunging into the snow.

We walked back to the fortress more by memory than any seen path. The snow piled quickly, obscuring everything. The wind howled in my ears and I kept my head low, watching Rafe’s boots in front of me. We didn’t see another soul on the roads. Everyone was sheltering in place.

I gasped when we entered the fortress, finally out of the bitter cold. Rafe closed the door behind us and headed straight to the hearth. I placed my belongings on my cot and shook out my cloak, hanging it to dry. After removing my boots, I approached Rafe as he tended the fire. There were still a few hot coals buried from the morning prior, and he nursed them to a flame.

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