Page 87 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

“You likely won’t arrive at the manor until after we’ve reached Illnamoor. We will send word to you once the red-eyed male has been… dealt with.”

Orim’s movements slow. The entire room seems weighed down, heavy with the anticipation of what’s to come. The truth is none of us know what waits for us at Illnamoor. Or what will follow if we fail.

But I’d rather not think about that, either.

Placing my dirty plate at the end of the table, I back away from the others and turn toward the rear-facing window. Someone approaches me, and I stiffen involuntarily.

“It’s just me,” Asheros says softly, holding up his palms. “Are you all right?”

Inhaling, I nod. “I’m all right. Just… Ready to get this over with.” I look up at him, meeting his eyes. “And you?”

“Same,” he replies. “I’m eager to put this behind us.”

“I’d imagine you are,” I say, though my voice is heavier than I’d intended.

“Lymseia,” he starts, but pauses, seeming unsure of himself. “After this is over…” He closes his mouth, brows furrowed.

Arching a brow, I cock my head. “Yes?”

“Would you—” he stammers, looking flustered. “Once we’ve dealt with Vorr’s murderer, where do you see yourself?”

“Back at High Keep with the Guard.” My answer is confident. There’s nowhere else I’ve ever felt like I belonged. When he doesn’t respond, I wait a moment, studying his mixed expression. “What about you?”

“I…” Running a hand through his hair, his gaze moves past me, mouth curved into a frown. “I see my future much differently now.”

I want to ask what he means, but he doesn’t give me the opportunity.

Raising his head, he flashes me a forced smile. “If you’ll excuse me.” Spinning around on his heels, he makes his way across the room, busying himself with one of our packs. He pulls Savell aside, and the two discuss something in hushed whispers.

Stunned, I stare in his direction he. The regret rising into my chest parts my lips.

Gods-damn it.

I don’t know what, but I’ve said something wrong.

Rubbing my forehead, I direct my attention to the stack of dirty dishes. I pick them up and carry them to the wash basin where Arella scrubs silverware. I can’t think about Asheros’s feelings at the moment. Not when I can barely wrestle my own.

“Need help?” I ask, anxious to do something with my hands.

Seeming startled, Arella looks up at me, wide-eyed. She steps to the side, making room for me. “Yes, thank you.”

I pick up a rag and dip it in the wash basin, soaking it in the soapy water. Taking a breath to clear my mind, I begin to rub in circular motions across the surface of the plate.

Arella stifles a giggle.

Frowning, I turn to her. “What?”

“It’s just that, well, you scrub well for a… you know, a noble fae.” She looks away sheepishly, red staining her cheeks. “I didn’t think you’d know how.”

The hint of a smile tugs at my lips, and I shake my head slightly, rolling my eyes. “Yes, I know how to wash dishes.” I rinse off the plate and pick up another. “I’ll have you know that the Guard’s trainees do chores. They say it builds character, work ethic, and the like.”

Arella smiles at me, seemingly amused by the thought of soldiers in training washing dishes. “That’s why the new recruits worked in the kitchens?”

“Yes,” I say, as if that’s obvious. “Why else would they be washing dishes?”

She shrugs, mouth still spread into a grin. “I always thought it was because they’d gotten into trouble.”

I laugh now, too. “That was part of it.”

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