Anhaga by Lisa Henry

Author:Lisa Henry [Henry, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64405-464-2
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2019-07-23T05:00:00+00:00

HOURS LATER Min’s body was aching when Robert finally called for the party to stop. He had twinges in places he didn’t have names for, his ass was sore, and his bladder was throbbing with the need to take a piss. His boots hit the ground, jarring his bones, and he hastily tangled the reins of the horse around a scrubby bush before stepping behind it to relieve himself.

There was woodland on this side of the road and fields, divided into patchwork by hedgerows, on the other. Min tucked himself back into his pants as Harry darted around the bush to join him, then turned his back on the boy and stared out into the trees. The road here followed a rise in the land; on either side it dipped away again. The trees were sparse at the edge of the road but grew thicker some distance back. The shifting light made it appear as though there was movement in the woods, and Min’s skin prickled with unease. He wanted to be back in Amberwich, where the city was close and crowded and stank, but Min understood it in a way he would never understand the countryside.

He waited until Harry nudged against his side like a tick trying to burrow in, and slung his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Fucking trees,” Harry muttered, squinting into the woods.

Min smiled despite himself. Harry was an annoying little shit, but he had always been a boy after Min’s own heart.

He drew Harry back onto the road, releasing him with a slap on the back. Robert’s men were walking around, stretching their limbs and taking the opportunity to eat. Min dug a bread roll out of his tunic and tore a chunk out of it with his teeth, his gaze seeking out Kaz as surely as Harry’s sought out Talys.

Idiots, the both of them.

Kaz was standing at the side of the road, motionless while men and horses moved around him. He was not eating. His hands were tucked into his damp sleeves. He was looking out across the fields, and Min wondered if it was a hedgewitch’s eye he used to survey them. Kaz had never been a hedgewitch, but he’d wanted to be one. He’d wanted an affinity with crops and seasons and growth and life, and instead his Gift was death.

Born to the wrong family, to the wrong blood, and to the wrong Gift.

Min watched as Kaz shifted his weight from foot to foot and then stooped down and picked a stringy dandelion from the muddy road. He held it as carefully as if it were precious as balsam.

“More rain coming,” Harry muttered.

Min looked at him.

Harry nodded toward the fields. “More rain.”

The farthest edge of the fields had already vanished under a shroud of gray. More of the fields vanished into the mist even as Min watched.

“That’s not rain,” Min said. “That’s mist.”

Except since when did mist roll in like the waves of the ocean, so quickly? Since when did it transform so

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