The Reaper's Soul by A.M. Wilder

Author:A.M. Wilder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2022-12-23T14:07:46+00:00

16

Vivian toyed with her fork. There was tension in the air. Despite Ruth and Edmund’s reconciliation earlier in the day, Ruth still looked despondent, and Edmund seemed sad and disappointed, though he was doing his best to hide it.

The only one who seemed completely unaffected by the strain was Finik. He was putting away an enormous amount of food and asking questions between mouthfuls.

“So, why do you stay here?” he asked Edmund, waving his steak knife in a vague direction. “Not much in the way of . . . well, anything way out here.”

Edmund’s eyes refocused and he smiled.

“It was our parents’ house. After they died, I fell heir to the house, since Ruth was . . . er . . . absent. I’ve never considered living anywhere else.”

“We like the solitude,” Elinor added, passing the meat platter to Logan.

Ruth grunted.

“Yes, Edmund always did.” Edmund’s brow furrowed in annoyance, but Finik didn’t seem to notice.

“I guess sol’tude might be nice for some people,” Finik said. “Dunno if it’s for me, though. It’s been infernal strange without the rest of my gang—” Catching Edmund’s eye, he backtracked hurriedly. “—My family, I mean, without them bein’ around.”

Vivian took a sip of water and nibbled on her bread and butter. I’m glad he’s here. At least he can break the ice and keep everyone talking.

“Where’s your husband, Vivian?” Finik asked through an obscenely large mouthful of ham and boiled potatoes.

“My husband?” Vivian asked blankly as Edmund and Elinor looked at her in surprise.

Finik waved his fork and squinted as if trying to remember something.

“Alfred, wasn’t it?” he said. “Some sort o’ healer?”

“Oh, you mean Alaric,” Vivian said, feeling her cheeks flush under Elinor’s and Edmund’s curious gazes and trying to ignore Ruth’s sly smile. “We’re just friends, Finik.” The former robber wrinkled his acid-specked nose and she hurried on before he could interrupt, “And I don’t know where he is. We were separated.” She went to take a bite of her bread, but Finik wasn’t finished.

“When you got injured, you mean? How’d that happen anyway?” he asked.

Vivian paused with the slice of bread halfway to her mouth and set it down. Her appetite had left her. She wiped her trembling fingers on her napkin and took a drink of water.

“I’d rather not talk about it, Finik,” she said, barely managing to speak through the nausea that turned her stomach and tightened her throat. She was aware of the many eyes on her and the tense silence that had descended on the table. Finik frowned slightly, his gaze guileless and open.

“Why?”

“Finik—” Elinor began, but he wasn’t listening.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding concerned. “You look sick.”

Anger and bitterness surged through Vivian, taking her breath away. How can he be so tactless? She set down her glass and tried to steady her voice.

“I’m fine; I’d just rather not talk about what happened.”

“Why not? Was it a bad fall or somethin’?” He turned to Edmund. “I had an uncle who fell out of a wagon and shattered his whole back an’ couldn’t move a muscle after that.

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