Page 34 of Knight from the Ashes (Crown and Crest 1)

The words get caught in my throat as the soldier comes up behind me and sets his hands on my shoulders. He nudges my foot off the shovel with his boot and then presses the spade into the earth himself. The move puts us close.

Very close.

My back rests against his chest, and his leg presses next to mine.

“The choice is yours,” Henrik says from entirely too near my ear. “We can work as a team, or you can relinquish the shovel. Either way, we need to put more than a cupful of dirt into the pit at a time if we want to be finished by dusk.”

Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. Henrik wears a patronizing look that makes me want to dump him into the pit.

Or maybe…

My eyes take an unexpected detour to his lips.

No.

Bartholomew is right—the sun has addled my brain. Immediately, I relinquish the shovel and duck out from under his arms.

I fist my hands as I walk away, serenaded by the sound of his soft chuckle, feeling like I lost an unspoken battle of wills.

* * *

We makeit well past the troll pit by dark, and we stop in a grassy, open area that Simon declares will be easy to guard.

I’ve never slept outside before.

“We’re going to camp?” I ask Simon, trailing behind him as he surveys the area, trying to hide my concern. “There isn’t a village somewhere up ahead?”

One with a nice little inn…

“I have a canvas tent that you may use,” the captain says warmly. “You won’t have all the comforts of the castle, but I can assure you that you’ll have proper privacy, and you’ll be away from the elements.”

Regretting my decision to stay with the group, I offer him a tight smile.

Every part of me is sore—my backside from riding, my back from the tiny bit of shoveling I did, and my finger, where the stubborn splinter remains buried.

And now I’m going to sleep on the ground.

“What about insects?” I murmur to myself after he’s walked away. “Or rodents? Ortrolls?”

The beasts didn’t seem so disturbing in the light of day, but now…

Not only that, but I have nothing except the clothes on my back. What will I sleep in?

“Here,” Henrik says from behind me. When I turn, he shoves a bundle into my arms.

“What is it?” I ask, wrinkling my nose at the weight of it.

“It’s a bedroll.”

“A bed…roll,” I say slowly.

“You unroll it.” Henrik pauses as if he cannot believe he’s forced to utter the explanation. “And it becomes your bed.”

I look down, feeling a little ill. I’m supposed to sleep on this scratchy, canvasworm?

“Lovely,” I say brightly, giving it a subtle sniff. It smells like campfire smoke. “Has it been recently laundered? I mean, has anyone slept on it…before?”

My skin crawls at the thought.

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