I unfold it, then hold it up to inspect. It’s simple but well-made. I slip it on and climb onto the center of the bed.
On the one hand, I’m touched by Cenric’s kindness. On the other, guilt festers inside me.
Here he is, being all chivalrous, while I’m...what? A spy? A liar? A terrible guest?
Still, I don’t want to squash the warm feeling in my chest. It’s been so long since anyone outside of my family has shown me this level of care.
I grab the fox from my bag and squeeze my fingers around the carving as I fall asleep.
Chapter
Sixteen
EVERLY
The morning sunbreaks over the horizon, bathing the camp in golden light as I step out of my tent and stare up at the sky.
It’s so beautiful. So breathtaking. So full of hope.
Does the sky know it gives me hope every day? If I stare at it long enough, I see something new. Something bright. I just have to be willing to look for it.
“Enjoying the view, outsider?” A voice cuts through the calm like a blade.
I turn to find an unfamiliar warrior standing nearby with his arms crossed.
His light brown hair catches the morning sun, giving it a golden sheen. It’s cropped short on the sides but longer on top. A jagged scar mars the left side of his face, running from his temple to his jaw. The skin there is puckered and shiny.
Two swords are strapped to his back, their hilts peekingover his shoulders. And the serpent emblem on his surcoat looks more menacing than ever. More evil. More dark.
I swallow hard and fight the desire to step back.
“You don’t belong here,” he sneers.
A wave of heat rushes to my cheeks. It’s not the first time someone has shoved my outsider status in my face, but something about his stance—so resolute, so certain—is infuriating.
I plaster on a smile as fake as his bravado. “And here I thought the view was improving until you showed up.”
His nose flares. “Watch your tongue, girl. You’re nothing but a stray dog someone took pity on.”
The words sting, but I refuse to let him see how deeply they cut. “A stray dog? Better that than a barking fool who thinks he actually matters.”
His face contorts with rage. “You little—”
“—enough!” A sharp voice calls out.
I turn to find Morwen striding toward us. Her clear blue eyes, usually so warm, now crackle with icy fury.
“Doran,” she says as she fixes the warrior with a glare that could wither crops. “We do not treat guests this way. Your behavior shames us all.”
A muscle clenches in Doran’s jaw, and for a moment, I think he might argue, but Morwen’s unwavering stare seems to drain the fight from him. With a final venomous glance my way, he stalks off.
Morwen watches him go and shakes her head. When she turns to me, her eyes have softened. “Pay him no mind. Some wounds run deeper than we can see, and they lash out at the innocent.”
“I’m used to it,” I say, hating the bitterness in my voice and the hatred I cannot contain. Mother tried to quell it, but it never worked. The anger is always there, always simmering.
“Not here,” Morwen says. “We don’t treat outsiders differently in this camp.”
They don’t?
