Page 41 of The Storm of the Empire

As I was working the last one off, the door opened, startling us. There I was on my knees at Hazel’s feet, holding her boot and staring up at someone who I could only assume was another one of her brothers. He looked just like the one I met earlier, albeit younger.

“Cal wasn’t lying!” He slowly let his eyes drag down our position. “About anything he said.”

“This is not what it looks like, Rouhi,” Hazel snapped.

“Okay… Should I just leave you to whatever this is then?” Rouhi circles his hand at us.

“He was just helping me take off my boots.”

I finished removing her boot and quickly removed mine before standing up. “Nice to meet you.”

Rouhi kept staring. “I thought Cal said you were a priest…”

“We can wear other clothes when we’re not in the service of the Goddess,” I said, not sure where the words came from.

“Are you all having a party in the foyer without me?” Hazel’s father called.

“We’re taking off our boots like you wanted!” Hazel yelled back.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Rouhi said as we shuffled deeper into the berm house.

The dwelling remained cool, despite the warmth left over from the storm. It felt cozy and well lived in. The inside was lit with dim candlelight, casting deep shadows. Warm spice scents reached my nose. Every inch of it had touches of use. They used this home, not just lived here. I felt welcome without words.

“Hazel!” Her father pulled her into a hug. “I was wondering if you were going to make it back tonight.” His deep baritone carried warmth and humor. “And who is this you have with you?”

“Luka,” I said, offering a tip of my head as would be the customary greeting for priests, keeping at least partly in character in case the brothers brought it up.

“It’s a joy to welcome you to our home. Please, come and eat, I’ve been keeping it warm.” Her father returned to the stove, checking on what he was cooking.

I liked him already.

“I would love to.” It had been many hours since the last meal with the priests and my stomach was growling.

“You saved some for us?” Hazel asked, peeking around him. “I love your beet stews!”

“When the storm went long, I knew your brothers would be late too, so I kept it bubbling for you all.”

When Hazel returned to stand near me, I leaned over. “Beet stew?”

“Yes?”

“You like beets?” I tried to keep my voice as low as possible because I didn’t want to offend her father.

“I don’t want to hear it. The way Dad makes them is life changing, and you will give it a chance.”

“Sparky, why don’t you get our guest a refreshment and show him to the table? Your mother should be returning any moment,” her father said without turning away from the numerous pots and pans he was tending on a giant hearth.

“The cellar is this way. Let’s go grab a few bottles of ale and cider for the table.” Hazel picked up a lantern before opening a door and revealing a stairway down.

“Sparky?” I teased as we started down the stairs.

“Don’t start,” she warned.

“It’s cute.”

She growled. “It’s because I’m the one storm dragon of their kids. He’s so proud, for all the good I am to them.”

My face fell. “What does that mean?”

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