Heir of Obsidian (A Throne of Glass Fanfic)

25 - I Am What I Am

Luka ambled through Rifthold's cobbled streets, inhaling the intoxicating scent of cooked venison. He sighed in relief, his stomach giving an involuntary growl as he visualised himself ripping into the tender meat. It'd been so long since he'd been able to eat his fill. He loved travelling with his friends - more than anything in the world - but even he had to admit that eating only charred rabbit and raw mushrooms for weeks was taxing.

"Wherever that smell's coming from, I want to find it," Quinn announced, her draft horse whinnying beneath her. "And eat it all," she added, patting her empty stomach.

"Tell me about it," Benji whined, "I'm starving. I need to eat something that doesn't taste like it came from a horse's arse. Are we almost there?" Internally, Luka groaned. The trip from Meah had been a week long, but with Benji's incessant complaining, it had felt like a lifetime. And, yes - the rabbit hadn't tasted great. But his cooking wasn't that bad.

He glanced beside him, only to see Asterin take a deep breath, before responding, "Yes, Benji." She surveyed the long streets, the tall townhouses hewn from thick sandstone. "We're almost there."

They'd collectively made the decision to go to the morning markets, which were held in the town centre of Rifthold. They were running dangerously low on supplies, and they'd have to replenish their food and medicinal stores if they were going to travel any further south.

Luka rounded a corner, narrowly missing a young couple drunkenly meandering their way through the streets. He glanced skeptically up at the yellow sun shining blasely above him; it wasn't even midday yet.

"This is it, right?" Quinn questioned loudly, extending a pale arm as they rounded into an open, cobbled courtyard. Luka raised his head, and smiled at the cacophony of colour. There was a boisterous fountain at the courtyard's centre, and surrounding it, enveloping every inch of cobblestone, was an army of market stalls.

Vibrantly pigmented layers of fabric protecting the stalls twirled playfully in the breeze, hiding the foreign merchandise bundled inside. Tables of exotic hair dyes, hand painted clay pots and sugary sweets beckoned to him, inviting him to discover the culture and taste of other lands. It truly was remarkable. Dorian had spent months travelling to other Kingdoms, forging alliances and trade agreements, and it had made Rifthold's port one of the busiest and diverse in the whole of Erilea.

He stopped abruptly as a horde of barefoot children rushed past, their laughter carrying in the wind. This - this is what Aelin, Dorian and Manon had worked for. Peace. A world where children could run through the markets, without worrying about when they should return home, or who they might encounter.

Quinn grabbed his arm, jolting him out of his trance. "Sticky bun?" she inquired, her mouth full with cinnamon bread. Luka gave a small laugh, before gratefully accepting the bun from her calloused hands. She smiled at him, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

"Mmm," he groaned as the soft bread met his mouth. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd indulged himself in something so tasty, so godly. Probably not since he'd been at home with his siblings back at the manor house, where they'd used to bake breads and treats together almost everyday.

"Who are we meant to be meeting again?" Benji demanded brightly from where he sat on a cobbled bench beside the food stall. Icing spilled down his friend's chin. Luka cringed.

"I'm not sure," he responded, carefully avoiding looking at the sugar coating Benji's lips. "Asterin knows." He searched for the beautiful female's form, and finally found her standing beside Quinn, a half-eaten cinnamon roll in her hands. He grimaced. She hadn't been eating enough lately, and it was beginning to show. Her angular cheekbones were sharper than usual, the shadows beneath her eyes deepening. As if sensing his eyes upon her, she looked up.