I tilt the cup back and drink the slop that vaguely resembles some kind of fishy chowder. Keg is right—it really does feel like it’s sticking to my insides, but not in a good way.
Yet I drink every drop, because despite the fact that I’ve lived and dined in a palace for the past ten years, I’m no food snob. I can thank my formative years for that, always hungry, never getting enough to eat.
I hand the cup back to him as soon as I finish. “Thanks. It was...good.” Ish. It was goodish.
Keg puffs up his chest in pride. He really loves feeding me for some reason. “You’re still my quickest eater, Gildy Locks.”
I pause, my eyes narrowing. “You’ve been talking to Lu, haven’t you?”
Keg grins. “I think the nickname she made for you is a good one.”
“Great,?
? I say dryly, though my lips twitch in amusement. It’s so strange, though, to have this—this sense of camaraderie with him. Not once has Keg made me feel like an enemy. The opposite has been true, in fact.
Maybe that’s another reason I’ve avoided him. Every time I talk to Lu, or Keg, or Hojat, I feel a little bit like a traitor.
“Hey, asshole, how long do I have to wait for dinner?” a soldier hollers.
Keg rolls his eyes. “Bunch of whiners in this army.”
I smile. “See you later, Keg.”
“Tomorrow,” he counters. “For breakfast.”
“Tomorrow,” I promise before edging away from the fire.
I stretch my legs as I walk around camp, fires dotting the ground and voices a constant low roar like the sea. It’s not snowing tonight, and the air is feeling crisp and clean, the way that only wintry temperatures can. I should take the time to go visit the saddles since I’m no longer sick, but…
The thought of facing Mist makes me nauseated.
Plus, Rissa watches me now with an almost hungry expression on her face, like I’m the answer to her prayers. Though I suppose that’s better than the loathing looks from the others.
No, I’m definitely not up to visiting the saddles tonight.
Instead, I wander around aimlessly, half-heartedly looking for signs of where the commander keeps his hawks, the other half feeling guilty.
Despite my reservations and prejudgments, I like Keg, and Lu, and Hojat. And that...that complicates things. It makes everything not so cut and dry.
It would be so much easier on my conscience if they were cruel to me. If this whole damn army was cruel and horrible. I expected that, expected to steam beneath the pile of their stark wickedness, hissing beneath crushing punishment.
Except that’s not what’s happened at all. Fourth army is no longer just a faceless enemy that I can blanket with hate.
So where do I stand, if not securely on the opposing side?
My troubled thoughts get yanked away when I hear a sudden shouting in the distance.
With a frown, I change direction and head toward the noise, my steps quickening. A collective cheer rises up just as I reach a short slope. I dig in my heels and scale the thick snow, footsteps sliding to a stop on the top of the embankment.
Below, there’s maybe two hundred soldiers gathered, lit up by a blazing fire on the flat terrain. There’s a large, crude circle drawn into the snow, and inside of it are a group of soldiers fighting.
Four-on-four, the bare chested men go at each other with a brutality that makes my breath catch. Some of them are riddled with bruises, blood splattering the snow at their feet. They circle each other, attacking with practiced moves, getting a hit in wherever and whenever they can.
Some fight with swords, some with fists, but with every strike, missed or struck, the spectators’ voices rise up in cheers or curses, faces alight with eager fervor. Every time a hit lands, they stomp their feet in the snow, a bloodthirsty drum that reverberates through the ground and travels up my spine.
When one of the fighters manages to slash a red line across the belly of another, the spray of blood makes me flinch.
A second later, someone else gets tossed on their back, snow flying up around his body. His opponent straddles him, fists pummeling his face, one after another. Even from up here, I swear I can hear bones crack. I can smell the sharp iron of blood as it bursts from his split cheek and splatters onto the snow.