Текст книги "A shadow in the ember"

Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 42 страниц)

Radiant wisps of eather lashed through the silver of his eyes. “Show me,” he repeated, voice rough as he skimmed one finger along my center. “Show me what you like, and I will give it to you.”

I could barely breathe as I molded my hand to his. Never in my life had I done something like this. But it felt…so natural. So right. And yet so enticingly scandalous. I moved his thumb with mine, drawing those circles around the bundle of nerves. What air I managed to breathe snagged.

“Is that all?” he asked, his voice a dark, sinful drawl. He moved his thumb under mine. “Or is there more you need, liessa? More you like. Show me.”

It was as if his voice carried a compulsion, one I had to obey. But I was in complete control as I pressed one of his long fingers against my softness, into the heat and wetness. I gasped at the feel of his cool finger parting my flesh before sinking slowly into me.

Ash’s gaze left mine then, falling to where our hands were joined. His chest rose sharply as he watched me—as he watched us as we moved his finger, working it deeper and deeper. And still he watched as I lifted my hips, moving against his fingers and his hand. He didn’t look away. He didn’t even blink when I pressed in another of his fingers, piercing my flesh with it. I didn’t think he breathed. I thought maybe we both stopped as his fingers filled me, stretching my flesh until I felt a bite of discomfort followed by a ripple of acute pleasure.

“You feel…” He inhaled sharply, drawing those fingers out before tracking the rise of my hips with those churning eyes. “So warm. So soft and hot. Wet.” He shuddered, his voice thickening as he thrust his fingers while mine simply clung to his wrist. “You feel like silk and sunshine. Beautiful.” He dragged his teeth over his lower lip, and I thought… I thought his fangs seemed longer, sharper as my back arched over the grass, and I ground against his hand. Something about watching him, watching us, was shocking. It sent my stomach dipping and tumbling. Stretched my nerves until they felt as if they’d snap. “That’s it, liessa, fuck my hand.”

His words scorched my skin, burning through every part of me. My head kicked back, and my eyes fell closed. Blood pounded as my hips rocked and twisted against him. Tension built and coiled tighter and tighter.

He moved over me, chest to chest as his mouth closed over mine once more. The way he kissed was just as wild as the sensations building inside me. My other hand sank into his hair as I did just as he’d demanded with wild abandon. All I could hear was the sound of our kisses and the wet thrust of his fingers. All I could feel was him and the tight tension settling deep in my core, curling and curling. My body went as taut as a bowstring, and then everything unraveled.

His mouth caught the cry of release as pleasure unfurled in wracking spasms, lashing out and flooding pleasure into every nerve, vein, and limb. It was shocking, the waves and waves of pure feeling.

Only when my hand fell away from his wrist did he slowly ease his fingers from me, his mouth from mine. “Beautiful,” he whispered against my swollen lips, and my eyes fluttered open.

“I…” Words failed me when he lifted those two very wicked, glistening fingers. His luminous eyes held mine as he drew them into his mouth. My body arched as if his mouth sucked on my flesh, not his.

I had never seen anything so shameless in my life.

He grinned around his fingers, slowly drawing them from his mouth. “You taste like the sun.”

My heart skipped. “What…what does the sun taste like?”

That curve of his lips was wicked. “Like you.”

His mouth returned to mine. It could’ve been his words, the taste of myself on his lips, or how I could still feel his fingers inside me. It could’ve been all of those things. Whatever it was, it fueled the need to give him what he’d given me. To share that pleasure. I slipped my hand between us, finding his thick, hard length straining against the soft cloth of his breeches. Another ripple of tight pleasure radiated out through me at the feel of him. His entire body jerked, much like mine upon his first touch.

Ash made that dark, luscious sound again as he reached between us, folding his hand over mine. He pressed against my palm, shuddering. “This…this will become more than kissing and touching.”

“Will it?” I’d never heard my voice sound so velvety before. I’d never quite felt my heart beat throughout my body like it did now, as another whirl of anticipation swirled. “I want to do what you’ve done for me.”

His jaw flexed as I cupped him through his breeches. “You have no idea how badly I want that.”

“I want that, too,” I whispered in the space between our mouths.

“It’s not your palm I want wrapped around my cock right now. It’s you I want. Tight and wet and warm,” he breathed, and a deep shiver rolled through me as my grip on him firmed. He groaned. “And if you keep touching me like that, that’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to get inside you, and it won’t be my fingers you’ll be fucking.” He lowered his head again, brushing his lips over mine. “I think you know that.”

I did.

Oh, gods, I totally did.

 I swallowed, my hand unsteady as I slid it down over the hard plane of his chest. A hundred thoughts swirled, a battle between impulsivity and caution, recklessness, and wisdom. We’d already gone too far. A part of him had been inside me. He knew what I tasted like. There were countless reasons for why I should heed the latter, and only a few for the former. But those were louder, more incessant.

I didn’t want this, whatever it was, to end quite yet. I didn’t want to return to reality, where I knew I would never feel this again. This abundant wildness. This connection to my body. To his. The realness. No dying hope of fulfilling my duty; of taking something like this—something beautiful and powerful—and using it to kill. No need to be anyone but myself.

So, I shut down the caution and wisdom. “I know what will happen.”

His lips curled into a smile against mine. “You’re a Princess.”

“So? You’re a god.”

Ash laughed then, the sound a thick and heavy smoke in my veins. “And you shouldn’t be debauched on the floor of a forest.”

“And what if I wasn’t a Princess?” I countered, sliding my hand away from him. “Would it be acceptable to commence with said debauching then?”

Another low laugh teased my lips as his hand grazed the curve of my thigh. “No one should be debauched on the floor of a forest. Especially when they will surely feel the hot bite of regret later.”

“How do you know I would feel regret?”

“You will.” His lips touched the corner of mine.

It occurred to me then that he had to be referring to the consequence that often occurred from a good debauching. A child. I relaxed, relieved that he had the foresight to even think of such things when the thought truly hadn’t even entered my mind. A child born of a mortal and god was extremely rare, so much so that I’d never met one. “That can be prevented,” I whispered, referencing an herb I knew women could take, either before or after, that inhibited such things. “It’s a—”

“I know what it is,” he interrupted. “Surprisingly, that is not what I was talking about.”

I frowned. “Then what exactly do you think I would regret? Or do you think that I don’t know my own wants and needs?”

“You strike me as a person who knows exactly what they want and need,” he returned. “But this is not wise.”

“Then what are you doing?” I demanded, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Attempting to not commence with said debauching.” His hand slid around to my rear, where his fingers pressed into my flesh.

A throbbing pulse of awareness shuttled through me. “In…in case you’re not aware, you have an odd way of not engaging in debauchery.”

“I know,” he replied. “Probably because I don’t have much experience with everything debauching entails.”

Surprise flickered through me. I opened my mouth to ask if he meant what I thought he did—because surely, as a god, he couldn’t—but his lips found mine once more. And kisses…his kisses were very distracting. His lips moved against mine in a slow, drugging way as if he were sipping from my lips. It felt like hours, even though I knew it was only minutes. Not nearly long enough, and then those kisses slowed even more, gentling. There were no more unexpected pricks of his fangs, and with each sweep of his lips and flick of his tongue, I knew we would go no further than this.

And despite how I’d challenged him and his somewhat annoying and surprising restraint, this…this coming to an end was okay. It was the wise thing because forgetting the way he kissed, the pleasure he’d given me, and how I felt now would be hard enough. Anything more would be impossible.

His lips tugged slowly on mine, leaving me in a pleasant haze as his head lifted. I opened my eyes, finding him scanning the elms.

It took a moment for concern to reach me. “Do you hear something?”

“Nothing like before.” He looked at me as he slid his hand down my leg and then away. “If I stayed, I think I’d find myself obsessed with trying to count just how many freckles you have.”

What he said…it tugged at my heart, and I inhaled sharply. I did not need to feel that.

“But I need to go.”

Forcing my grip on his shoulders to loosen and unsure of how my hands had even gotten there, I nodded.

“I should’ve left already,” he added. “I didn’t expect to linger tonight.”

I ignored the burn of disappointment I felt in the pit of my stomach. “I think tonight was…entirely unexpected.”

“I can agree with that,” he replied and touched my cheek. The act surprised me. Catching a curl, he tugged it straight and then slowly wrapped it around his finger. He stared at the strand of hair, smoothing his thumb over it. “Will you be heading home now to a bed far more comfortable than a forest floor?”

I nodded.

But he didn’t move from atop me, his weight still pleasant in an intoxicating sort of way. While he appeared momentarily engrossed in my hair, I took the opportunity. Seized it, actually. I swept my gaze over his brow and the proud line of his nose, the angular height of his cheekbones, and those shockingly soft lips. I took in the cut of his jaw and the faint scar in his chin. I committed those details to memory as I had the feel of his flesh against mine and how my lips still tingled from the touch of his.

I blew out a soft breath. “If you’re to leave, you will need to let go of my hair.”

“True,” he murmured, easing his finger from the twist. He didn’t let the hair fall. Instead, he swept it back behind my ear with a gentleness I decided I also could not remember.

He dipped his head then, kissing the center of my forehead, and that was another thing I would make sure to forget. Then, Ash rose with the same grace he had when he’d faced those creatures.

I sat up quickly, making sure the slip covered all the unmentionables as best as it could. I kept stealing glances, my gaze wandering low to where I swore I could still see the hard ridge of his arousal. He was silent, then donned his shirt. Moonlight glinted off the silver band around his biceps as he set about pulling on his boots. The last thing he picked up was the scabbard and sword.

Ash faced me then, and his stare… I could feel it as if it were a physical touch along my cheek, on my breasts, and then down the length of a bare leg. A heat followed that stare, one I had a sinking suspicion would taunt me during sleepless nights.

He looked out into the woods again. “Don’t wait too long to return,” he advised.

My brows rose as I tamped down whatever antagonistic thing surely sharpened my tongue. I didn’t know if his order came from a place of assumed authority or one of concern, and neither was something I was accustomed to. It wasn’t often that anyone told me what to do outside of being shooed away, especially these last three years.

He stepped toward me and then stopped, his hair falling to rest against his cheek and his jaw, brushing his shoulder. “I…” He seemed to struggle with how to continue.

“It was nice talking with you,” I said, speaking the honest to gods truth. Ash went completely silent and still, and my cheeks heated. “Even though you did spy upon me,” I added quickly. “Most inappropriately.”

A faint smile appeared. No hint of teeth, but his features warmed. “It was nice talking to you. Truly,” he said, and my silly heart skipped around in my chest. “Be careful.”

 “You, too,” I managed.

Ash remained there for a moment before turning, his steps barely making a sound as he walked away. My smile faded a little as I watched him go until I could no longer see him in the dense shadows. There was a strange ache in my chest. A sense of loss that had nothing to do with where the kisses had or hadn’t led, nor even the absence of contact. It felt like meeting a friend and then immediately losing them. That was what it really felt like. What we’d talked about seemed like things one only shared with friends. The other stuff…well, I didn’t think friends shared that.

But it was a loss of some sort because I didn’t think I would see him again. That if he still watched, I would be as unaware as I’d been before. That maybe he realized that this had already gone too far. I thought this because he’d never asked for a name.

I was still a stranger to him.

I shook my head and rose to my feet, finding my gown in the moonlight. Pulling it on, I heard a sound that had been strangely absent.

The birds.

They called out to one another, singing their songs as life stirred once more in the woods.

Chapter 14

“There was a riot last night in Croft’s Cross. It started as a protest against the Crown and what little was being done to stop the Rot, but the guards turned it into a riot by the way they responded.” Sitting at the foot of my bed, Ezra dragged a hand down her face. She’d shown a little bit after breakfast was served, looking as if she had gotten even less sleep than I had. Shadows smudged the skin under her eyes. “Six were killed. Far less than anticipated—as terrible as that sounds. But many were injured. Fire destroyed a few homes and businesses. Some claiming that the guards set them.”

“I hadn’t heard.” Absently twisting my hair into a thick rope, I sank farther into the faded emerald cushions of the chair placed before the window. The view overlooked the Dark Elms, a place that seemed like a different world now. “Let me guess, the guards were acting on the Crown’s orders?”

“They were,” she noted, falling silent as she looked around my bedchamber. Her gaze drifted over the narrow wardrobe, the only other piece of furniture other than the chair I sat in, the bed, and the chest at the footboard. Books formed leaning towers against the wall since there were no shelves to display them. I had no trinkets or serving trollies, paintings of Maia, the Primal of Love, Beauty, and Fertility. Or Keella. Or lush settees providing ample seating. It was nothing like her or Tavius’s chambers. It used to get to me—the differences—even when I was the Maiden. Now, I was just used to it.

“But it’s not like they have no sense of autonomy or control over their actions,” Ezra continued. “There were other ways they could’ve handled the issue.”

This wasn’t the first protest to turn violent. Mostly, it was the response that always escalated the issue. Sometimes, it was the people, but I couldn’t fault them when it was clear they felt that peaceful demonstrations weren’t capturing the Crown’s attention, and when too many of their family members and friends were jobless and starving.

“The guards could’ve handled it differently.” I watched the tops of the elms sway. Somewhere beyond those trees, the lake waited. My stomach twisted. Even thinking of it felt different now, and I wasn’t sure if that foretold something good or bad or nothing at all. “But I don’t think they care enough to try to deescalate the situation, and they probably did set the fire as a form of punishment or to somehow make the protestors appear as if they were in the wrong.”

“Unfortunately, I have to agree.” She paused. “I’m surprised you weren’t already aware of what happened or not in the thick of things.”

There was a strange catch in the next breath I took, and I twisted my hair even tighter. Two luminous silver eyes formed in my mind. I felt another twisting motion, this time lower in my belly. How could I explain what I’d been doing last night? Or even speak about it when my mind immediately made its way to how Ash’s skin had felt against mine. How his lips had felt, his fingers…

Show me.

I cleared my throat. “I was at the lake and lost track of time,” I offered up the lame half-lie. If I told her anything about last night, even the less-intimate details, she’d understandably have questions. I would, but I…I just didn’t want to talk about Ash or anything he’d shared with me. Everything felt too unreal. As if I started talking about it, tiny holes would appear, fracturing the whole memory.

I let go of my hair. “Did the Crown or its heir ever go out and check on their people last night? Try to assuage them? Listen to their concerns?”

Ezra’s laugh was dry. “Is that a serious question?” She shook her head as she fiddled with the lace along the collar of her pale blue gown. “Tavius was holed up in his room. Still is, having taken breakfast there. And the King plans to address the people at some point, to assure them that everything that can be, is being done.”

“How very timely of him.”

Ezra snorted.

I let my cheek rest against the back of the chair and studied my stepsister, focusing on the shadows under her eyes. Without her saying as much, I knew she’d been out there last night with the people, helping however she could. Just like she went out there, day after day. “You should be the heir,” I told her. “You would be a far better ruler than Tavius.”

She raised her brows. “That’s because anyone would be a better ruler than Tavius.”

“True,” I said softly. “But you would be a better ruler because you actually care about the people.”

Ezra smiled a little. “You care.”

How could I not, when the things happening to the people had been my destiny to stop? I bit back a sigh. “You know what will happen as the Rot continues to spread. How do you think Tavius will handle that?”

The curve of her lips faded. “We can only hope that day doesn’t come soon, or that he marries someone far more…” She frowned as she searched for the right word.

A kinder word than what came out of my mouth. “Far more intelligent? Compassionate? Empathetic? Brave? Caring—?”

“Yes, all of those things.” She laughed as her gaze swept over me. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah?” My brows furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” She continued staring. “You just seem…off. Call it familial intuition.”

Familial? Sometimes, I forgot that we were family. I resisted the urge to squirm in my chair. “I think your familial intuition is a bit rusty.”

“Maybe.” She sat back, the curve returning to her lips, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I was going to head to Croft’s Cross to see how the repairs were going on some of the damaged businesses and homes, and then check in with the Healers to see if they needed assistance dealing with the injured. Care to join me?”

The fact that she’d asked warmed me. “Thank you,” I said, unfolding my legs from the chair. “But I was going to see if there were any leftovers in the kitchen and check in on the Coupers. I know both Penn and Amarys have been trying to find work since their lands are completely wasted now.”

Ezra nodded slowly. “You know what I think?” she asked. “You are the Queen the people of Lasania need.”

I laughed deeply and loudly, even though her voice had been as solemn as ever. That was something that could never and would never happen. I was still chuckling over that after Ezra left and I donned a plain brown skirt and a white blouse made of a thin cotton lawn. I could tell the heat would be brutal today, and even I didn’t want to be wearing pants. Quickly braiding my hair, I sheathed a small knife with a wicked, serrated blade inside my boot and the iron blade to my thigh, then made my way to the west tower. The morning sun struggled to penetrate the tower as I navigated the sometimes-slippery steps to the floors below. I stepped out into one of the less-traveled halls. It had become a habit to move about in the empty corridors. There was less chance of becoming the focal point of curious stares from new servants who were not yet sure of who I was, and easier to avoid the way older servants who behaved as they’d been taught—to act as if they didn’t even see me. As if I truly were nothing more than a lost spirit.

The lingering scent of fried meat permeated the air as I entered the kitchens. Servants fluttered between the workstations, either cleaning or prepping for later today. I veered to my right, toward the mountain of a man who was hacking away at a slab of beef as if it had delivered a vicious insult to him and the entirety of his bloodline.

Which meant, he barely tolerated me.

“Do you have anything for me?” I asked.

“Nothin’ that would be fit for even the hungriest of mouths,” Orlano replied gruffly, not even pausing in his swing.

I glanced around, eyes narrowing on the baskets of potatoes and greens stacked near the bushels of apples. “You sure about that?”

“All of what I know you be eyein’ is for tonight. Some fancy guests are expected.” His cleaver came down with a wet whack. “So no runnin’ off with any of that. Those needy mouths will have to fend for themselves.”

“They do fend for themselves,” I grumbled, wondering what guests were coming. It took me a moment to remember that there was an upcoming Rite. “And they’re still needy.”

“Ain’t my problem.” He wiped a hand across the front of his apron. “Ain’t your problem.”

“You sure about that?” I winced as the strips of beef he tossed into a bowl landed with a wet smack. “Maybe it’s the King and Queen’s problem.”

His cleaver froze mid-air as he turned his head toward me. His dark eyes narrowed under graying brows. “Don’t you be sayin’ stuff like that around me when even these damn pots and pans have eyes and ears. Not like I’m not disposable.”

I could never tell if Orlano suspected who I was, but sometimes, like now, I thought he just might know that I was the failed Chosen and the Princess. “King Ernald loves your pastries and how you cook the roast,” I told him. “You are probably the least disposable person in this entire castle, including the Queen.”

Pride filled his eyes, even though he huffed. “Go on and get outta here. I need those gals back there peelin’ apples instead of starin’ at you and prayin’.”

The corners of my lips turned down as I looked over to the bushels. Two younger servants in white blouses starched to the point where they could stand on their own, watched the cook and me nervously. The peelers in their hands were motionless, unlike their lips. Huh. They really did look like they were praying. The gods only knew what kind of rumor they’d heard that had led to this.

“All right.” I pushed off the counter.

“There’s some bruised apples and potatoes that are close to goin’ bad by the ovens.” Orlano returned to the hunk of meat. “You can have ‘em.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” I said. “Thank you.”

His face flamed red. “Get outta here.”

Laughing under my breath, I scooted around him. I quickly transferred the food into one burlap sack and then made my way toward the large, rounded doorways. I made sure to hurry past the bushels and the two servants.

My steps slowed as I looked over at them. “Be careful how hard you pray. A god or a Primal just might answer.”

One of them dropped their peeler.

“Girl!” Orlano shouted.

Sending the two females a wink, I got my butt out of the kitchen before Orlano tossed me out of it. The good mood didn’t last long when I made my way out into the early morning sun and saw the activity at the stables.

Damn.

Nobles from districts outside of Carsodonia had already begun arriving for the Rite, their carriages a sea of familial shields. The last thing the Crown needed to be doing was feeding families from all over the kingdom who had no problem feeding themselves.

This wouldn’t go over well with the people.

All the food that would be prepared over the next several days could go to those who needed it. But then the Crown wouldn’t be able to keep up the pretense of stability—one that was cracking and showing signs of breaking. No number of fancy gowns or elaborate feasts could hide that.

I climbed the dusty hill, the sack of apples and potatoes an unnaturally heavy burden in my arms, even though there was less than half left. The lack of sleep made each step feel like twenty, but still, despite everything, I grinned a little as the large oaks lining the dirt road blocked the glare of the morning sun.

Last night felt surreal, like a fevered dream, which seemed more plausible than spending a few hours beside the lake, speaking with a Shadowlands god—being touched by one. Pleasured by one.

Sweat dotted my brow as I reached up, tugging the hood of my blouse farther to shield my face from the sun. Ash. Warmth pooled low in my stomach. Thinking about his kisses, his touch, did very little to cool my already overheated skin, but it was far better than dwelling on the state of the kingdom or any of the other numerous things I could do nothing to change. Doing that only made me feel useless and guilty. But those kisses, the way he touched me, and what he said? They made me feel exhilarated and wanton and a dozen other different, maddening things. And there wasn’t even a hint of regret. I’d enjoyed myself…thoroughly, and I’d unexpectedly created a wealth of memories that would stay with me for however long.

There was a twinge of sadness, though, because it was over. And with each passing day that came, I knew those memories wouldn’t be as vivid and clear. They would become just like a faded dream. But I didn’t let it take hold. If I did, it would taint the memories, and I refused to allow that to happen. There were too few good ones as it was.

What Ash had said about not having a lot of experience when it came to debauchery returned for me to obsess over, which I’d already done a decent amount of. Could he have really been insinuating that he didn’t have a lot or any experience when it came to intimacy? That seemed impossible. He was a god who was probably, at the very least, several hundred years old. And he seemed awfully good at kissing and touching for someone who didn’t. But…

He had asked me to show him what I wanted—what I liked. And I had.

Did it matter if I had lain with more than he had? Or if he had been with none at all? No. It just made me curious about him—his past and what he did when he wasn’t hunting gods or apparently keeping an eye on me. Had he never found someone he was attracted to? Or at least attracted enough to be with? Someone he had fallen in lust or even love with? And if so, how could I be the first? There had to be others who were more…well, more everything. Starting with, like, every single goddess.

Except Cressa.

Thoughts of Ash quickly faded to the background as the sun bathed me in its light, and I saw what awaited.

The Rot had spread.

My steps slowed as I looked over the trees to my right, and my stomach sank. The limbs of the jacaranda trees had once been heavy with trumpet-shaped purple blossoms. Now, they blanketed the ground, the blooms brown, their edges curled. Limbs bare, there was no mistaking the strange grayness of the Rot that now clung to the tree’s branches and trunk like moss.

The farmers had tried what they believed King Roderick had done. They’d spent day and night, weeks and months, digging and scraping, but the Rot was deep. And under it, a hard, rocky type of soil absent of the nutrients needed to grow crops.

A coldness drenched my chest as I stared at the Rot. The spread was definitely occurring faster. Even if the Primal of Death did come for me now, I wasn’t sure I could even make him fall in love with me in time.

Lasania didn’t have years.

I walked over, toeing aside a dead blossom with my boot until I saw what I already knew I’d see. The dirt itself had spoiled, turning gray.

“Gods,” I whispered, staring at the ruined ground. Breathe in. The breath I took snagged as the scent of the Rot reached me. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, exactly. It reminded me of…

Of stale lilacs.

Just how the Hunters had smelled. The same scent that had filled the air before Andreia Joanis sat up, dead but still moving.

It wasn’t my imagination. The Rot smelled the same.

I looked back at the city. Through the remaining trees, the Shadow Temple glittered darkly in the sunlight. Toward the center, the Sun Temple shone brightly. Both were almost painful to look upon. Farther back, Wayfair Castle rose high on the hill, and beyond the ivory towers, the Stroud Sea shimmered a deep blue. How long until the Rot reached the farms I’d passed and the city beyond? What would happen if it reached the Dark Elms and then the sea?

When I came upon the Massey farm, I saw that only an acre of untainted land remained behind the stone home and the now-empty stables. Worse yet, the gray of the Rot was dangerously close to the leafy heads of cabbage not yet ready to be picked.

Holding my sack to my chest, I resisted the urge to run past the Massey home, to put distance between myself and the catastrophe waiting to happen. There was no point, though. My destination was far worse than this.

The creak of hinges drew my gaze to the home. Mrs. Massey stepped outside, a woven basket in hand. The moment she spotted me, she waved.

Shifting my load to one arm, I returned the gesture, riddled with guilt. Mrs. Massey had no idea that I could’ve stopped the devastation to her farm. If she did, I doubted she’d come outside to greet me. She would probably attempt to beat me over the head with that basket.

“Good morning,” I called out.

“Morning.” She drifted down the cracked stone of the walkway. The dirt clinging to the knees of her pants told me that she’d already been working what was left of the farm as Mr. Massey likely went to town. People like these were often up before anyone else and to bed after everyone else.