Page 61 of Rise of a Fallen Man

“I’d love to see the swords you’ll make,” I said. “I should come to the games sometime soon if you promise me not to get hurt again.” I managed to keep my tone of voice light, despite the grave reminder of his injuries he’d sustained the last time I’d visited the arena.

He patted my hand on his thigh reassuringly. I hadn’t even realized I’d kept my hand in his lap all this time.

“I’m getting better at it, Princess. I don’t make it easy anymore, either for a man or a beast to hurt me,” he assured me.

I turned my hand with my palm up, and he curled his fingers around in, squeezing lightly. Despite all this time spent away from Salas, I realized that our connection hadn’t grown weaker.

It should’ve alarmed me. But at that very moment, I smiled, feeling lighter at heart. It felt like after a stormy, turbulent journey, I opened my travel chest to discover with relief that my most treasured possession remained intact.

Chapter 16

Ari

The carriage stopped.

“We’re here,” Salas said, letting go of my hand. “It’d be better if you stayed in, Princess. Let me talk to him first.”

From under the hood of my cloak, I studied this part of the city through the window of the carriage.

The view consisted of the water-stained, gray-stone buildings with crumbling walls, dirt roads, and not a single green leaf in sight. High on the wall of the closest building, the faded black letters of the sign read Blacksmith and Daughter, Carriage Repair Shop and Horse Tuck.

Judging by the dilapidated state of the sign and the building, as well as the deserted street in front of it, the shop had long been out of business. I recognized the brick chimney of the porcelain factory a block over, but I had never come this far into this part of the city before.

I never thought anyone could live here. Yet Salas headed confidently to a crumbling stairwell that was so steep, the ground appeared to swallow him as he descended.

He returned a few minutes later, followed by a lanky, hunched over figure that huddled into a tattered cloak while carrying a large covered basket.

They both climbed into the carriage, with Salas taking his place next to me and his companion sitting down across from us.

I’d never seen a warlock from this close before. In the children’s books that my father used to read to me when I’d just arrived in Rorrim, warlocks were always depicted either asdespicable villains or as conniving charlatans. Either way, those stories taught children to stay away from them.

This time, however, a warlock might lend us some help.

“Good day,” I greeted the man, shoving back my hood.

He paled, staring at my face for a moment, then without uttering a single word, scrambled for the door.

Salas stopped him by placing a hand on the door handle.

“Please. Just listen to what she has to say,” he implored. “You can always leave after.”

The warlock curled in the seat sideways, facing the door and cradling his basket to his chest.

“My life may seem pitiful to you,” he mumbled, addressing no one in particular, “but I do not wish to end it just yet.”

“What do you mean?” I asked softly, striving to sound non-threatening. “Your life is not in danger. My father’s life is.”

He sucked in a breath, glaring at Salas from under his hood. “When you said the gentleman was a highborn, you didn’t specify he was the highest born in the queendom.”

“Why does it matter?” I asked. “Would it stop you from helping him? If the surgery is a success, you will be generously rewarded.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Do you have so little faith in your skills?”

I studied him closely. His once blue cloak had kept that color only in the seam under the hood, the rest had weathered to the pale gray. The wicker potion chest that he clutched to him looked like a beaten-up picnic basket with its corners cracked and its lead partially unraveled. His clothes emitted a faint smell of mold, but his chin appeared freshly shaven, and his hands were clean with neatly trimmed fingernails.

He looked old enough to have gathered the necessary knowledge and expertise, provided he had dedicated his life tolearning and improving his skills. Of course, his age alone was not a guarantee of his expertise.

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