Page 37 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

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The fire between us is smaller than before, a pale flicker of warmth casting long shadows over the ground.

Roan sits beside me this time—not across, not apart. Close enough that her knee brushes mine when she shifts, just once. Her legs are drawn up, forearms resting casually over her knees, but her body still hums with quiet alertness. Like she’s ready to move the second the world gives her a reason.

The mare grazes a short distance away, reins looped loosely around a branch, calm and unaware.

Selis has been talking for a while now, spinning stories of mercenary contracts, odd jobs, and close calls. I’ve barely heard half of it—too focused on the way Roan’s expression has shifted into a mask of polite disinterest.

Selis stretches, the leather of her armor creaking. “You know, Roan, I still tell people about that Wilkinson job. Gods, you were a nightmare with that crossbow.”

Roan’s jaw twitches. “I remember. We nearly died.”

Selis barks a laugh, eyes glinting. “Yeah, but we didn’t.” She kicks at a stray pinecone, then glances at me. “So, how’d you two meet? Doesn’t seem like your usual company, Roan.”

The question hits like a splash of cold water. I sit up straighter, glancing at Roan for guidance. My pulse jumps when I see the muscle in her cheek flex.

“We met on the road,” I say carefully. “Ran into each other by accident.”

Selis’s gaze sharpens, as if trying to dissect me. “That right?”

Roan shifts, drawing her sword to rest across her knees. The metal catches the firelight. “Leave her alone, Selis.”

“Relax, Talrik.” Selis holds up both hands. “Just curious. It’s rare to see you with company.”

I force a smile, but my hands clench in my lap.It’s rare to see you with company.The words swirl through my mind, sharp and cutting.

Selis speaks like she knows Roan—knows her habits, her temper, her solitude. Yet, Roan hasn’t so much as smiled since Selis arrived. Her voice has turned brittle, her eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them.

Something happened between them.

Selis’s foot nudges Roan’s boot. “Remember the tavern in Deneris? That bet with the captain from Blackhold?”

Roan doesn’t respond.

Selis grins. “You made me carry you home after three rounds of firewine.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. My stomach twists as the image forms in my mind: Roan, drunk and laughing, leaning on this woman. Trusting her enough to let her guard down. The tightness in my chest sharpens.

I don’t realize I’m gripping my knee until my nails dig into the fabric of my trousers. Selis sees it, too—her gaze flicking to my hand with faint amusement.

She shifts slightly, leaning toward me. “So, Aria, right?”

I nod, wary.

“You always travel with mercenaries?” Selis asks, voice smooth.

“No. Roan’s the first.”

Selis's smile curves wider, far more predatory than welcoming. “First time for everything, huh? Must be quite the adventure.”

I shift slightly, the urge to put more space between us creeping up my spine. I don’t really want to talk to her, don’t want to play whatever game she’s setting up. Still, my voice comes out, stiff but polite. “You could say that…”

Her gaze flicks to Roan, lingering just a beat too long before sliding back to me. “You’re braver than you look. Or maybe just lucky.”

I don’t like the way she says it. Like she knows something I don’t.

A prickle of unease runs through me, but my curiosity outweighs my discomfort. “Why lucky?”

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