Iron Knight - Clan of the Rim Chronicles #2

5

I COULDN'T SLEEP THAT night. Between the images of Calder in the dungeon chamber swirling through my head and the guilt I felt for lashing out at the Clan and offending Thorne, my mind refused to close itself off.

My heart ached as I laid there on the bed, the cold sheets like a ghost wrapping itself around me. They still smelled like Calder even after so long of him being gone from them, the frosty lavender and pine dancing along my skin like his own touch. But instead of soothing me as it always did, it made me feel dirty. Here I was in this bed as safe as a baby in their crib, while Calder was laying in his own blood on the stone floors of Sylvi's fortress. It made me feel like worse of a monster than she was herself.

I sat up in the bed, the sheets ruffling an echo in the dark silence. I ran my hands over my tear stained face, cursing myself as a growl ripped through my stomach. I hadn't eaten anything for dinner and now I regretted it, not wanting to leave this chamber. It was the middle of the night and I knew everyone but me was asleep, so I was on my own to get myself something to nibble on and suffice me.

Getting up from the bed I grabbed one of my fur blankets and wrapped it around my nightgown to go downstairs to the kitchen.

The hallway floors were ice against my bare feet as I quietly walked along them, careful not to wake anyone. Any bump in the night caused a battle brigade with Sylvi loose.

Walking towards the kitchen entrance I then gasped in surprise when I noticed someone there. Thorne looked back from where he sat at the cooking counter, chuckling through his nose.

"Eeira would have your ass if she knew you were out of your room at this late hour. Especially in that," he said, popping a piece of what looked like white deer meat in his mouth.

I scrunched up my nose in disgust as I approached him, wrapping the blanket tighter around myself.

"I don't care what Eeira thinks. I have no respect for her anymore. But I could say the same thing about you and the cook. Does she know you're in here helping yourself to her cold pantry?"

"You mean like you're about to do?" he smirked.

I paused realizing he was right, and narrowed my eyes at him. "Touché."

Thorne slid the platter over to me but I shook my head, and he shrugged his shoulders as if saying "suit yourself". I grabbed a bowl of frosted berries from the pantry and leaned against the counter next to him. It was silent for a while until I quietly spoke up.

"I'm sorry again, if I offended you earlier."

Thorne glanced up at me from his food and smiled softly. "Nah, you didn't. It's nothing on my back. Besides, I've gotten used to people offending me over the years. I wasn't exactly a very well-perceived person in the village."

"Good," I nodded before chuckling. "I mean, good that I didn't, not about your village perception. But, if I may ask, why didn't you have a good reputation?"

Thorne gave his famous shrug once more. "My father was the blacksmith who made the silver for the royal swords, my mother skinned the fur for the royal garments and rugs and blankets, like you're wearing. I guess the villagers treated us differently because of it, perhaps out of jealousy for what they were paid for it. I was a bit of a troublemaker though, so my reputation was more. . .refined."

I couldn't help but chuckle again, "And what did that refinement consist of?"

Thorne narrowed his eyes out in front of him as if recollecting his memories. "The pub, mostly. I was a valued customer there, everyone knew me by name even when they were dead-ass drunk on berry wine and ale. And I was well established with the ladies. Had one on my arm most nights," he winked, taking a sip of the ale in his cup.