Page 34 of The Ashborn

“I think she’s going to want this one, Master Calder.”

The woodcarver studied the table for the first time. He traced his fingers over the intricate carvings. He didn’t have anything to say about it but nudged his head toward the door. “Go get the customers. You’re slacking on your duties.”

Kienna hadn’t been wrong—the woman wanted the table. Though it remained unstained, she said she’d wait another week for it to be finished. Then she paid Calder a sizable sum without blinking. The woodcarver never stood, but his eyes remained fixed on the carved sun and flower.

“Come on, Ash,” Kienna prodded gently. As she placed her hand on his trembling arm, his gray-brown eyes fell on her. “Moira—that’s my friend—she’s trying a new meal tonight, and I’d like to share it with you.”

He ripped his hand from her touch, but the gruffness in his voice dissipated. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Kienna pulled him again. “Oh, I’m not asking. Let’s go.”

She helped him stand. Though he pushed back a little as they headed toward the other edge of the city, he became more at ease after Ruva fell in lockstep near Kienna.

I would still like to eat his hands, she said.

Kienna laughed internally. I don’t think he’s going to treat me like that ever again.

He’s a drunk.

What do you know of drunks, Ru?

Same as you, Little Flame.

We had a soldier in River Storm who reeked of alcohol, too. His name was Dren.

Kienna used to think of Dren as a cruel mentor, teaching the Guardians everything he knew about battle tactics and spotting weaknesses so they could tear down their enemies. Dren drank every moment of his life that she could remember. Was he in pain, too? Serving an unjust king, forced to babysit kids with magic to make sure they followed the king’s bidding? What regrets gnawed at Dren?

Dren lived during the Great War. He’d probably have been about Kienna’s age at the time. She hadn’t taken to drink from her own war traumas, but nightmares flooded her brain. What sort of nightmares would someone get if they destroyed cities and people? Took children from men who had nothing else left? Built unnatural creatures from the dead? Chopped off heads for the king? The more she thought about it, the more she sympathized with Dren. The River Storm general was a fucking nightmare, and Kienna forced a little hate into her sympathy to clear herself of the shiver pricking at her skin.

When they reached their seaside apartment, the woodcarver hesitated. Kienna kept a firm grip on his arm, waiting patiently until he moved again. Up the stairs and inside, Moira tossed together leafy greens and strawberries. Citrus coated the air in the room. Tislin stood at the corner of the counter. They’d been mid-conversation when Kienna entered, harboring the old man.

“Oh! I didn’t realize we were having company,” Moira chirped.

“He needs a bath,” Kienna said. “He’s going to stay with us for a while.”

Calder yanked at her. “I don’t need your pity.”

Kienna ignored him. “Tislin, can you fetch water? Moira, he should eat.”

Tislin nodded and left. Moira quickly filled a plate with the greens, adding a small piece of chicken she had brought from The Elarent House. Placing it in Calder’s hand, she motioned for him to sit at the table. It was small, not Kienna’s best work, but it filled their need, though the woodcarver inspected it as he sat.

“Well, thank you for the meal,” he grumbled. “I won’t be long.”

“You will be long,” Kienna scolded. She went into the bathroom to wipe down the tub.

From out in the common area, Calder’s fork brushed against the plate. Good. He was eating. That was a start. After a moment, he said, “I have a cat. I can’t leave her long.”

“I’ll take care of the cat,” Kienna called. “Tell me where to find it, and I’ll send Ruva.”

“That damn wolf?”

“Yes, the damn wolf. She’ll bring the cat something to eat tonight, and then you and I will check on it tomorrow.”

I’m not a damn wolf.

Calder followed it with another scoff. She’d at least worn him down enough to hear the end of that. He eventually told her where to go. All steps in the right direction.

Kienna gave Calder her bedroom for the night—more like forced him there. Though life returned to his skin after eating a full meal and bathing, he looked worn and ready to return to the rum at any point. Kienna didn’t want that for him anymore. He settled in with the makeshift patched blanket while Kienna brought him another cup of water to help cleanse him. He put on the same clothes he wore that day but seemed not to mind. He said it was better than going home to the memories of failure waiting for him.