Page 79 of Forged in Fading

“If I tell you, that gives me less time to eat.”

She had hoped for a laugh, an indication he would let the topic go, but Boden didn’t relent. Alvara fiddled with a piece of bread, piling crumbs in her lap. “I couldn’t watch him do that to you. Everything he’s put you through, I hadn’t seen any of it firsthand. But seeing the whip, his enjoyment. It was too much. Are you…upset?” Honest to gods, she couldn’t tell from the solid stone of his face, so reflective of his Nyrian magic.

“Upset? No one’s ever done anything like that for me, Alvara, and few would. I’m grateful, despite how wildly irrational your actions were. What you did for me…I won’t forget it as long as I live.” His eyes traveled to her back, pushed against the cushions. “Although I’d prefer if you don’t make it a habit.”

“No promises.” She shoveled the first bite of meat in, and the succulent juices promptly convinced her she was going to stuff herself until she was sick.

The news Boden’s friends shared the next morning was troubling, to say the least. Neighbors and friends had been turning demi-elves over to the authorities, including people they had known about for decades and never said a word. Everyone was frightened of what King Einar would do.

“We have to warn the humans,” Alvara said. She sat in a delightfully soft chair by the crackling hearth, stroking her mother’s earrings. They had somehow survived the battle and the aftermath, though she should have been smarter and sent them with Lilja like she had her father’s dagger.

Boden sipped from his cup of black tea. How he managed to find the Elan specialty in every kingdom, she had no idea. “You need to heal.”

“Boden, I’m not sitting around while he marches on a defenseless realm. My back is clean and bandaged, and Pira used plenty of healing ointment. I’ll be fine. Unless you’re trying to tell me that you would sit around and wait for your injuries to heal completely before going to help.”

“You are impossible.” He set his mug down and leaned his head against the back of his chair. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow. If we’re able to find fresh horses, we may be able to make it to the Eskenti settlement by sundown.”

Arnik stood. “I’ll make arrangements.”

“Thank you,” Alvara said. “For everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“Help the demi-elves and humans. That’s all we ask.” He inclined his head toward Boden. “Take care of your mother for us. And be proud of your father’s blood that runs through you. He was a good man.”

The flames of the hearth flickered in Boden’s eyes. Alvara pulled the woolen blanket over her shoulders. “Tell me about him.”

He inhaled sharply. “I only know what little my mother has told me.”

“I’d still like to hear it. But only if you want to talk.” The logs of the fire snapped and popped, shifted and crumbled while she waited.

Boden wrapped his hands around his mug once again and pulled it tight against his chest. “He was a fisherman…”

His soothing voice swelled and crashed like the waves his father had endured in his countless days spent out on the sea, drowning out all of her fear and pain. A lightness nestled in her chest, a feeling of contentment she hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

And Alvara smiled.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Riding a horse with open wounds would not be Alvara’s first recommendation to anyone who asked. Each jolt and bump pulled at her skin, shooting burning spasms down her back. But if she showed her pain, Boden would no doubt slow or even stop their journey, and she would rather give up sweets for a year—well, maybe a few months—than let that happen.

They clung to the woods, avoiding popular paths as often as they could. Boden’s short hair and Alvara’s gray locks didn’t exactly help them blend into their surroundings, so they did what they could to cover themselves with hoods his friends had generously gifted them, along with bags of provisions.

Boden suddenly pulled his horse to a stop, dismounted, and handed his reins to Alvara. “Wait here.”

Here? They weren’t anywhere at all. There wasn’t a soul in sight, only forest as far as the eye could see. It didn’t seem to bother Boden in the slightest as he marched through the thinning snow and stopped in front of a tree.

He rapped an overly complicated rhythm on the trunk, a convincing display of pure madness. What was he trying to summon, a chipmunk?

After a short silence in which she contemplated voicing her concern for his mental well-being, an elf materialized out of thin air. Alvara squawked, and the horses snorted and pawed at the ground.

The female looked Alvara up and down and smirked. “I think it might rain today.”

“Why do you say that?” Boden asked.

“The clouds are coming quickly, and no one can stop them.”

Alvara looked up at the clear sky. How many hampa leaves had these two smoked?

“Good,” Boden said. “Let them come. Rain is what helps the right plants grow.” He waved Alvara forward, and she gave him an odd look before leading their horses straight into what she was sure would turn out to be a real tree. When the impact didn’t ring through her bones, she gasped.