Chapter 46: Everly

Chapter

Forty-Six

EVERLY

I storm into Morwen's tent, my anger propelling me forward like a ship caught in a gale. The scent of herbs and spices sweeps over me, but even they can't soothe my frayed nerves.

"Good morning," Morwen greets me, her voice as warm as the bubbling porridge in the massive pot in front of her.

I grunt in response and grab a spoon, attacking the porridge with more vigor than necessary.

Morwen studies me as I continue stirring.

Great. Now I'm being analyzed by the camp's resident wise woman. Just what I need to improve my mood.

"Something troubling you, child?" she asks, her tone gentle.

I snort. "No. I love starting my day by arguing with stubborn, overprotective men who think I need constant supervision."

Morwen's eyebrow arches up. "Ah, I see you've had a conversation with Cenric. "

"Conversation is a generous term," I say as I stir the porridge with renewed ferocity. "More like a verbal sparring match where he thinks he's my personal guard and I'm some helpless damsel who can't tie her own bootlaces."

"Why does that upset you?" Morwen asks, her voice maddeningly calm.

I huff, blowing a stray curl out of my face. "Because I'm not a baby. I don't need a nursemaid hovering over me every second of the day."

Morwen studies me in silence, her focus unwavering. I shift my weight, suddenly feeling like a naughty child caught stealing a sweet treat.

"Perhaps," Morwen says slowly, "Cenric's concern comes from a place of caring, not doubt in your abilities."

I open my mouth to argue, but she holds up a wrinkled hand.

"And perhaps, you might consider that accepting help doesn't make you weak. It makes you wise."

Well, damn. I hate it when she makes sense.

"But I don't ne—"

"—help? Everyone needs help sometimes."

"I don't need anyone." Even as I say the words, they feel false against my tongue.

I need my family. I need friends. I need to belong.

"We all need someone," Morwen says, her words so wise, so calming, as if I'm a blossom she's pouring rain on and encouraging to grow.

I fall silent as I scrape against the bottom of the pot, creating a rhythm .

Stir, scrape. Stir, scrape.

The entire time, Morwen hums as she chops herbs with the precision of a master seamstress. How does she always manage to look so serene? Maybe it's all those calming herbs she's always brewing.

The aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg wafts up from the pot, reminding me of home. Of Kassandra. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow hard.

Stir, scrape. Stir, scrape.

My arms ache from the repetitive motion, but I welcome the distraction. It's better than dwelling on Cenric's accusing eyes or the weight of Hawke's threats.

I sneak another glance at Morwen. She's still chopping away, seemingly oblivious to my presence. But I know better. Those wise blue eyes don't miss much.

Stir, scrape. Stir, scrape.

Slowly, my anger cools, replaced by a strange sense of calm.

Who knew stirring porridge could be so therapeutic? Maybe I should suggest it to Cenric next time he's in one of his moods. The mental image of the fierce barbarian fussing over a pot of oats makes me smile.

Would he believe me if I confessed everything? Would he protect me?

My hands tremble as I ladle the porridge into bowls, nearly sloshing the hot oats onto my skin.

What will he do to me now that he knows I'm a spy? Will he throw me in a dungeon? Torture me for information? My stomach churns at the thought, and I have to set the ladle down before I drop it .

I've seen the way he deals with his enemies. The cold efficiency. The ruthlessness.

And now, I'm one of his enemies.

My eyes sting, and I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision. I can't cry. Not here. Not now.

I have to be strong. For my family. For myself.

But fear is a living thing inside me, gnawing at my insides. It whispers all the horrible things Cenric could do to me, all the ways he could make me suffer.

And what about Hawke? What will he do when he finds out I've been discovered?

Ice slides through my veins as I remember his threats against my family. My mother. My sister. My grandmother. They're all in danger because of me. Because I was foolish enough to get caught in that damn alley.

Morwen's words echo in my mind, taunting me with their wisdom.

Maybe she's right. Maybe I do need others. Maybe I need Cenric. But how can I put my Fate and my family's Fate in his hands?

I'm trapped between two dangers, two men who hold my life in their grasp. And I don't know how to break free.

I glance at Morwen and find her still chopping and humming.

I square my shoulders and pick up the ladle again.

I'll find a way out of this. I have to. For the people I love. For the future I want.

Even if it means putting my trust in the one man who could destroy me more than anyone else.