In an Orchard Grown from Ash by Rory Power

Author:Rory Power [Power, Rory]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Worlds
Published: 2023-05-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

CHRYSANTHI

After days following Andrija through the Vitmar on foot, and another few clutching his waist as she sat behind him on a horse as it cantered south, Chrysanthi had been something beyond delighted to topple into a proper bed. She’d fallen asleep still dressed, and it was late in the morning now as she slowly came awake. She rolled over with a groan, pressing her face into the bedclothes. They smelled like soap, so strongly that she could taste it, but after a week carrying the stink of horse and sweat, she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

They’d left their money behind in Vashnasta and only got this room because Andrija knew someone in the city and had a favor he could call in. She’d spared a moment to wonder how it was possible he knew so many people when he hardly ever opened his mouth, but it seemed part and parcel of the quiet he kept regarding the life he’d lived before the Sxoriza. And, curious as she was, she knew how it felt to split yourself in two, a before and an after. Her before had been left behind at Stratathoma and waited now within those great stone walls. Where had Andrija left his?

With a sigh, she wriggled over onto her back and sat up, rubbing at her eyes. “You snore,” she said to him, having no real idea of whether that was true, but when she’d finally wiped the haze from her eyes, she realized she was alone. The blanket Andrija had slept under on the floor was folded up neatly on the foot of the bed, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen.

Chrysanthi scrambled to her feet, her mouth dry and her heartbeat suddenly too loud in her ears. Had Nastia’s men found them? Had he been carried away in the night? No, no—she was still here, the paint washed from her yellow hair and from the black mark on her left hand. Anybody who took a good look at her might know what she was, but she had been left behind.

The door swung open at that moment, and Andrija stepped through, two rolls of bread held in one hand and a waterskin in the other. “You’re up,” he said, turning to shut the door behind him. “I brought— What is it?”

She shook her head and hoped very much that her cheeks weren’t visibly red. “Nothing.” How utterly embarrassing; back at Stratathoma she’d been so comfortable being alone. Now even a mere minute in her own company was enough to curdle that comfort into something more like panic. “Are those for me?”

“One of them is,” Andrija said, smiling a very little bit. He came to sit on the edge of the bed, and she tucked her legs under her, holding out a hand for one of the rolls. “I got one with raisins and one without. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

“Always something sweet,” she replied. He nodded, and Chrysanthi let herself imagine that he was making note of it.

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