Page 60 of The Flame and the Forsaken

“The branch. Right.”

“I had a clear shot!”

“Were you planning on making a cannonball of leaves, or...”

“If I wasn’t laid up on this cot...”

“You’d what?”

“Come closer and find out.”

“Save your threats for when I return.” He grinned down at her. “Rest up, outlaw. Tonight, we feast.”

Chapter12

Pleasure Under the Shame of Secrecy

Mariel wrapped herself in a blanket and hobbled down the steps of their cabin at dusk. Pinkish hues wove patterns through the violet, and for a moment, watching with her eyes and heart wide, she understood what people meant when they talked about their souls being at peace.

Erran looked up from his log and smiled. “There you are. Did you rest?”

She nodded and joined him, lured as much by the smoky call of the boar’s meat roasting on the spit he’d fashioned as she was the perplexing realization that in the hours she’d been asleep, she’d missed him.

“Almost done.” He badly repressed another grin. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“I have a surprise.”

Mariel laughed nervously. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Even if they’re good?” He waggled his brows, his eyes lit up like a pleased puppy’s.

She huffed a playful groan and obliged, wondering what had come over her that she’d so easily give in. “Do your worst.”

A couple of seconds later, she felt him unwrap one of her hands from the blanket. He peeled her fingers open and pushed something wooden into them. “Drink,” he said.

“Drink what?” Mariel peered at him through one eye until he scowled at her, and she shut it again.

“Drink,” he urged.

“If this is poison, Iwillcome back and haunt you,” she warned, bringing the mug to her lips. Before she could draw a sip, the oaky, sharp notes of whiskey hit her nose. “Nay. Erran! This is what I think it is?”

She could hear the glee in his voice when he said, “Aye.”

“Don’t tell me you learned distilling in survival training?” She opened her eyes and tilted the mug toward her mouth, then relished the burn on her tongue, her throat.

“You flatter me,” he said, laughing. “I wandered back down to the shore to check my traps and happened by the shed. There were some trunks stacked along the back side, and I hacked them open?—”

“Hackedthem open?”

“Aye, I also found an ax on the beach.” He nodded over his shoulder. The half-rusted tool was propped against the side of the cabin, near the woodpile. “Good thing too, as we’re almost out of wood.”

She’d forgotten all about the ax. It could have made their lives easier if she’d remembered to go back for it. “So youhackedthese trunks open like a madman. Go on.”

“What, should I have used my teeth?” Erran shook his head. “One of them was full of bottles, so I brought a few back.” He uncorked the cap and filled her mug higher.

“Could have used this when you were stitching my leg,” Mariel said. She raised her mug. “To... new beginnings.”

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