Page 192 of Forcing Fate

My mother departed that evening and I was stuck in the small room with a basket half full of sweet cakes. My eyes burned from crying. Exhaustion weighed them down. It was bittersweet. I was saddened by her loss, but pleased all was right between us.

When I gave her the necklace, she started crying again, knowing exactly why I gave it to her. I tied it around her neck and she left, believing her daughter would be dead in the next two days.

Night had fallen, and though the sun went down, the noise from the first floor grew. I tossed on the cot, finding Rafe’s cloak. The warm fabric brushed against my cheek as I pulled it close. I buried my face, finding solace in his scent. I was alone. There was no one left to comfort me—I had to take care of myself. I inhaled deeply, trying to memorize his scent of masculinity. The smell of a man, not perfumed or spiced, simply Rafe.

The door crept open, and I stiffened. Rafe’s head led in and his body followed, shutting the door behind him. I sat up as he lit a candle from the stove. He placed it on the table and looked at me.

“You said your goodbyes,” he stated.

“Aye,” I whispered. I thought my tears had run out, but a rebel drop trickled out of the corner of my eye.

He sat beside me and pressed his warm hand to my cheek. His thumb trailed across my skin, brushing away the tear. I reached up and pulled off the cloth around his face. His left eye flashed in the dark, reflecting the candlelight.

“I should get my own room,” he rasped.

“That’s what I said,” I breathed, leaning forward.

He stood, clearing his throat, and I thought he would go demand a room. Instead, he took my cloak and sat on the floor.

“What are you–” I started.

He pulled off his boots and set them beside him, then laid back, flat on the ground with his feet at the door.

“No–”

“Hush, Vy. Get some rest.” He settled in, using my cloak as a blanket. “Get the light.”

“You’re the blasted General, you shouldn’t be on the–”

“I am the blasted General, Avyanna. Get the light.”

“There’s room enough for both of us.”

“There’s only one way there’s room for both of us up there, and you know it,” he growled. He sat up and glared. “Who do you want on top, Vy? Me or you?”

I shrunk into his cloak and reached for the candle.

“Good girl.”

I blew out the flame and took my boot off, tossing it in his direction. There was a soft grunt, and I threw my other one.

“Vy–” he warned.

“I only have two boots,” I grumbled in defense, flopping on the bed like a child.

“Stay on top of the cloak.”

“I know,” I snapped. “Bugs and such.”

He chuckled, and silence lapsed. Rumbles of laughter howled from downstairs, and I wondered what all those people were doing. Perhaps, because of my sacrifice, they would have a future. I would fight the Shadows and save them—protect them.

The barmaid crossed my mind, Bitsy. She was one life I’d protect. My mind wandered to how she flaunted her beauty, how she wanted Rafe.

“Rafe?

“Hmm?” He grunted in answer.

“Did you think Bitsy was pretty?”

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