Siege (The Warrior Chronicles, #5) - K.F. Breene Page 0,72
to know it. Except her, obviously.
She gripped the hilt of the knife tighter and shook her head. Trying to convey her desire, she took a step away. “I don’t speak…” She shrugged.
“Wait!” he pleaded in a rough, barely intelligible accent, holding his hands higher but taking a step after her. “I help. Me help. You.” He put fingers to his mouth, miming eating with his hands. “Hunger? Eat?”
Alena’s stomach rumbled, selling her appearance. She put her hand to her stomach. “I’m okay. No thank you.” She took another step away. “Don’t follow me.”
“Wait! I cook. Graygual.” His hands made a shape of a ball in the air. “Many. Many food.” He reached toward her, miming handing her a morsel. “Bit food. Eat.” He showed her two palms and feathered them in her direction, telling her to wait. Then he held up one finger. One moment.
He half turned and gave her that one finger again, insisting that she stay put. He hurried back into the kitchen. Alena turned to run, but for a reason she couldn’t explain, she thought of Kallon in that clearing. He’d taken the time to help her. He counted on her. They all did.
She hadn’t graduated into the Honor Guard because she could fight with a sword a little, nor because she was great with a bow. If that were the case, she’d still be with the archers. She was in the Honor Guard because she had other traits to offer. Shanti had seen something in her that was not like the others, and, in realizing it, had given her large shoes to fill, like the others.
She stilled her mind and took one more breath. She let in the night, her surroundings, the sun retreating from the ground. The clank of dishes and sizzle of food on fire seduced her ears.
Alena drifted closer to the door, knife held tightly. Fighting her fear of discovery, she slunk toward the edge of the door and peered in. Steam rose from pots. Dirty pans and bowls were heaped near a washbasin. Cups and goblets of all shapes and sizes littered a table, also ready to be washed. More than a dozen people stood with sweat on their foreheads and stains on their clothes, making food that would be served to the enemy.
Alena fell back against the wall and looked at the sky. It was so clear. God had sent the Hunter to prepare them for this. All of them, including those who had only wanted to find a good husband and have a nice home, like her. Until the Hunter had barged into her life and made her understand the value of freedom, she hadn’t seen the point in learning about the craft of mixing poisons. Such an antiquated practice, she’d thought. And here she stood, at the edge of a kitchen that fed the enemy, holding the knowledge of how to poison the whole lot of them without them being any the wiser until it was too late.
This was her destiny. Shanti’s faith in her, and Kallon’s, meant she had to step up, fight her fear, and fulfill her duty.
Alena blew out a breath. That inner pep talk didn’t do much to rid her of the jitters.
The man hurried out of the kitchen and started when he found her so close to the door. He offered her a chunk of bread and a small portion of meat that had been cut into. It was probably a leftover portion of someone’s plate. Alena grimaced and waved her hands to ward him away.
Not understanding, he pushed it toward her. “It okay. No…one know.” He held it steady.
Alena looked past him at the kitchen, and took a chance. “Do you know the Chosen?”
The man’s brow creased. He shook his head in confusion and pushed the food at her again.
“Wanderer?” she tried.
A flash of understanding crossed his face before warning lit in his eyes. Anger lowered his brow then. This time when he pushed the food at her, it was hostile. “Take. Go.”
A surge of stubbornness accosted her. She was trying to fulfill her destiny, dang it. He was supposed to be the easy part.
She reached into her pants and drew out her small pouch. It jingled as she opened it and extracted one gold coin. She held it out. “The Wanderer is here. I need your help. I will pay for your silence.”
She really hoped money would buy cooperation. With those farmers, it seemed to have gone a long way.