Chapter 27: Everly

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

EVERLY

The next morning, Morwen puts me to work hauling supplies from the newly arrived caravan to the cook tent. She enlisted Finn to help, and I can't decide if I'm relieved or annoyed. On the one hand, the company is nice. On the other, I'm not sure Cenric will be happy that I'm talking to Finn again.

"Ready for some heavy lifting?" Finn asks as he bends down and grabs a crate of vegetables.

I reach for a sack of flour. "Yes. I've always dreamed of being a pack mule."

As we walk toward Morwen's tent, snow pelts our faces like tiny, icy daggers. The flakes prick my cheeks and melt into my hair.

We drop the supplies inside Morwen's massive tent. She thanks us with a brief smile and shoos us back out into the storm.

Finn flashes me a smile as we begin our trek through the growing snow drifts toward the caravan, each step making a satisfying crunch beneath my boots.

"So," Finn says, "what was little Everly like?"

"A menace, obviously." I grin as I picture myself racing through the streets of Astarobane alongside Kassandra.

He laughs. "I bet you had all the other kids running scared."

"Absolutely." I pick up another sack of flour, hefting it with exaggerated effort. "What about you?"

Mischief dances in Finn's eyes as he grabs another crate of vegetables. "I was the terror of Karra."

I tighten my grip on the flour as we start back toward Morwen's tent. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"What was it like growing up in Astarobane?" Finn asks as he balances the crate on his hip.

"It was...challenging. But we made do. My sister and I, we made up games, pretended we were on grand adventures."

"Sounds like you two were close."

"We are," I say, my throat tightening as thoughts of Kassandra rush over me.

She would like Finn. She wouldn't hesitate to befriend him. That's how Kassandra is—so trusting and kind.

My breath puffs out in little clouds as I enter Morwen's tent again and lower the bag of flour to the ground. Finn follows me inside, stacking his crate of vegetables.

"So, Finn," I say as we prepare to head back to the caravan, "do you have any brothers or sisters?"

He nods. "I have five brothers."

My brow lifts. "Five? As in, one-two-three- four-five?"

"Yes."

"I can't even imagine." I shake my head, trying to picture a house full of rowdy boys. "Your poor mother."

"Don't feel sorry for her. Trust me. She rules with an iron fist."

"I bet mealtimes are a riot," I say as I think about a table surrounded by identical blond heads, all talking at once.

"More like a battlefield. It's every man for himself when the bread comes around."

We arrive at the caravan, and I reach for a basket of fruit. "And here I thought one sister was a challenge."

You have two sisters.

My heart clenches as I think about what my life would have been like if I had grown up alongside my twin.

Would we have been close?

"I will trade you any day," Finn says, drawing my attention back to him. "At least sisters probably smell better."

"I'm sure," I say as I follow him toward Morwen's tent.

As Finn and I continue our supply-hauling, the sun peeks out from behind the clouds, casting long shadows between the tents, its warmth a welcome relief. I tilt my face toward it, like a flower desperate for light.

The repetitive nature of the work is soothing, in a masochistic sort of way. Lift, carry, drop, repeat. It's mindless enough that I can almost forget about Hawke and his impossible demands.

He's Calcite.

Why didn't I notice before? Probably because I never thought someone from the Calcite tribe would be here in Karra leading a rebellion .

As I follow Finn through the snow, I think about telling Cenric everything. I imagine the words I would say, but I cannot speak. Not without risking the lives of those I love.

I want to be childish, to stomp my foot in the snow, but I know it will not solve anything. It won't make Hawke disappear. It won't make his threats disappear, either.

Unfortunately.