Page 42 of Of Flames and Fallacies

But I know these types of men. No one owes them a lick of sympathy, nor respect, or fear. And in fact, I bet if I show him a hint of any of those, he’ll use it as a weapon against me.

Despite my nerves flinching under Darian’s wicked pointed glare, I hold his gaze. “You. Heard. Me.”

Darian scoffs. Rolling his neck, he turns to Archie with an exasperated sigh. “Someday, you’ll go far, kid.” He downs whatever is left in his flask and pushes up to his feet. “...And I really hope you stay there.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” I sneer.

Archie’s spoon drops, clattering into his bowl. Cole tenses, reflexively holding out an arm across my chest.

Everyone around us stops mid-conversation to stare, the chatter in camp dying instantly.

Darian’s expression isn’t one I’ve seen before. It’s a mix of dangerous calm hinting he doesn’t need to oversell his anger. People just...fear him.

He leans onto the table, towering and lurching above me. I tilt my chin up to look him in the eyes.

His whisper sends chills down my spine.

“I know.”

He spits at the ground before pushing off the table and stalking away. Once he disappears, everyone resumes their conversations. Except this time, a nervous murmuring replaces the normal jabbering.

“What is his problem?” I flick my gaze to Cole. “How is he still with the squad acting like that?”

Cole lightly shakes his head and diverts his attention back to his own bowl. “He’s the best swordsman in the kingdom. We need his skills.”

“Shouldn’t matter. People like that aren’t useful to anyone. That sort of attitude is dangerous—”

Archie laughs. “I’m not scared of him. If anything, he should be scared of me!” He flashes a toothy grin through the gap of his flexed arm.

I stifle a chuckle. “You’re right. Now will you put that thing away before I have to run for the hills?”

Archie waggles an eyebrow but lowers his flexed bicep.

“Archie, how are your parents?” Cole redirects the conversation.

Archie’s grin flickers. “They’re good, they’re good. Yeah. I haven’t received any letters this month yet. But I know this time of year they’re busy getting settled for winter.”

Sadness fogs over me. Winter. A few months ago I was doing the same thing—hyper focused on stocking enough food and medicine to last until spring. Now, rather than that, I’m here. An orphan. My biggest concern with winter at this point is howmany layers I need to wear in the mornings. I don’t have to second guess where my next meal will come from. I look down at the soup.

“Are you hungry?”

“Aren’t I ever! More chicken?”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “No chicken, unfortunately. We’re having soup. But let me see if I can bring you something else.”

“How are your parents?” Archie asks Cole and I.

Cole taps his fingers against the wooden table. “They’re good. Well. Actually, our mother died. But, our father is good. Sisters are all good.”

Archie frowns at the news. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Part of what Cole said was true. Both of our mothers are dead. But where Cole has a father and sisters, I have no one. Just Daeja. And Cole.

“How old are your sisters?” Archie asks.

I panic as I struggle recalling all the ages of Cole’s sisters.

Thankfully, Cole responds. “Seventeen, fourteen, eleven, nine, six, and four.”

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