A breath rekindled the burning in his side. He tried to sit up, but swayed. His arm, wrapped in bandages, sent waves of pain through him with every movement. His hand slid across the mattress, the fabric rasping beneath his fingers. He bent one knee, and pain burst through his hip.

  “Come on…”

  He clung to the wooden frame, pulling himself up by his arm. The world reeled around him, a surge of nausea rising in his throat. His foot slipped on the floor, and he pitched forward. His legs shook violently.

  He grabbed onto a piece of furniture, knocking a small statuette that wobbled before steadying. When he reached the door, he pushed it open and seized the railing. If he fell, the thought struck him like lightning, tightening his gut.

  He forced the thought away and drew a breath before setting one foot on the first step. The wood creaked beneath his weight. His breath caught, and he tightened his grip on the banister as he continued his descent.

  At last, his feet touched the floor. His legs buckled, threatening to give out at any moment, but he held on, fighting the dizziness that hummed in his temples.

  An old man was seated on a couch, his long gray hair falling in unruly strands around his face. A beard threaded with silver covered his jaw.

  “I’m the one who treated you,” Luc said.

  “What happened to me?”

  “Two men attacked you.”

  “Without that damned iron bar, I would have beaten them,” Rouis muttered.

  His gaze swept across the room.

  “Where is the young woman?”

  “She went out to run some errands.”

  Luc picked up a ladle near the hearth and filled a bowl with steaming soup. The scent of onions and vegetables spread through the room.

  “Eat.”

  Rouis took the bowl and brought it to his lips.

  “Would you like a slice of bread?” Luc offered.

  “No, thank you.”

  A growl sounded from Rouis’s stomach.

  Luc smiled, cut two slices of bread, and topped them with cheese.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I suppose I will,” he said at last.

  Rouis dipped the bread into the soup and took a bite.

  “It’s good,” he murmured between mouthfuls.

  “It was my wife’s specialty.”

  “She must have made wonderful meals,” Rouis said.

  Luc nodded, laughing softly.

  “What are you doing in this city?”

  “I’m escorting Ambre to the capital,” Rouis replied, tearing off a piece of bread with his teeth.

  “Is there any connection to the attack?”

  “None. It was pure chance.”

  He finished his meal, sighed, and leaned back against the chair. Across the table, Luc looked suddenly older. His face, lit by the hearth, revealed the lines of age. He pointed toward a chair.

  “I’m going to take a nap. You can stay here or go for a walk outside,” he said, disappearing up the stairs.

  On top of it lay a set of keys, bound together by an iron ring. Beside them, a woolen coat had been laid out. The kitchen walls were covered in faded wallpaper, its corners curling and peeling away in places, revealing layers of violet paint beneath the tears. Wooden beams crossed the ceiling, and at the back of the room, a door bore deep gouges.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  He took the coat and slipped his good arm into one sleeve. He grimaced as he worked his other arm through, adjusted the fabric over his shoulders, and headed for the door. When he stepped outside, a gust of wind lashed his face. A shiver ran through him, and he pulled the coat tighter around himself. Snowflakes swirled through the sky as the rooftops vanished beneath a white blanket. Bare tree branches bowed under the weight. Passersby, bundled in coats, scarves, and hats, hurried through the alleys. Behind the fogged windows of shops, shadows moved about. Doors opened, releasing bursts of warm air. Farther on, children hurled snowballs at one another. His boots sank into the snow.

  He pushed open a door, and a wave of warmth enveloped him, heavy with the scent of freshly ground beans. Behind the counter, a coffee machine breathed out curls of steam. Servers dressed in green silk tunics glided between the tables. On the shelves, ceramic jars filled with coffee and tea were neatly arranged. Nearby, glass cases held golden biscuits and pastries dusted with sugar. He settled near a window.

  You are so weak.

  He flinched, his gaze sweeping across the room. The same voice repeated, You are so weak. He straightened abruptly, sending his chair skidding backward.

  “Show yourself,” he hissed.

  All eyes turned toward him as an employee approached.

  “Please calm down, sir.”

  You are so weak, the voice spat.

  His vision blurred. Then his knuckles slammed into the server’s abdomen. The poor man let out a rough gasp before collapsing.

  Rouis burst through the door and found himself in the street, fists clenched. He kicked the ground in fury.

  “This can’t be happening, damn it,” he roared.

  He stopped in front of Luc’s house. When he crossed the threshold, the scent of simmering vegetables and steeped herbs hung in the air. Ambre, chopping carrots, looked up. Her eyes widened, and she rushed toward him.

  “Rouis. You’re finally awake,” she exclaimed.

  She wrapped her arms around him.

  “You’re kinder than usual,” he joked.

  Ambre pulled away, twisting the edge of her apron between her fingers.

  “I thought you were going to die. Thank God Luc saved you.”

  When I get my purse back, I’ll give him ten gold coins, he thought.

  “We’ll have to get back on the road.”

  “You’re not fully recovered yet. Your arm is still broken,” she protested.

  “We don’t have much time. We’re already behind.”

  “You’re not invincible. If you leave too soon, you’ll make things worse, and we won’t get anywhere,” she hissed.

  “How long was I asleep?”

  “Three weeks.”

  Rouis collapsed onto a chair and buried his face in his hands.

  “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. This can’t be happening.”

  Ambre picked up her knife and went back to her task.

  “It’s not that bad,” she said.

  Luc entered the room, shaking flour from his hands.

  “So you’re finally back on your feet. That’s a good sign, but don’t rush things. These injuries take time, and leaving too early could cost you more than three weeks.”

  Rouis nodded, his gaze drifting to the damaged door.

  “What happened to it?” he asked.

  “Wolves ransacked all my supplies.”

  “That doesn’t sound like wolf behavior.”

  “It surprised me just as much as you. I heard a noise one night, went downstairs, and it was already over. No food left, and the door smashed to pieces.”

  After the meal, Luc and Ambre went upstairs to sleep, while Rouis dragged a chair near the door and sat down, his sword in hand.

  The fire crackled in the hearth. His head tipped back, his eyelids closed, and his shoulders relaxed. His fingers slipped from the wood, letting the leather slide free, and the blade fell. The firelight’s shadows rippled one last time before fading.

  *****

  Fingers grabbed onto his arm.

  “Rouis.”

  When he lifted his head, he caught sight of copper-red strands gleaming in the light.

  “Didn’t you hear anything?” Ambre asked.

  His gaze drifted across the kitchen. Where, just the day before, stacks of dried meat had been piled, there was now nothing left.

  “No, I didn’t hear anything,” he murmured.

  “If you were hungry, you could have said so,” she sighed.

  “I didn’t eat anything,” he repeated.

  “How rude. You devoured all the food and you won’t even admit it,” she hissed.

  Rouis clenched his fists.

  “I’m telling you, it wasn’t me.”

  “Then who was it?”

  Luc appeared in the doorway, his fingers sliding over his forehead before rubbing his eyelids.

  “What’s going on here?”

  “The food has disappeared again, and he claims he didn’t hear a thing.”

  “Calm down. Accusing each other won’t help us understand what’s happening.”

  Luc rested his hand on the wooden table.

  “Maybe there’s a passage or a hiding place we haven’t discovered yet,” he said.

  He pulled a few bronze coins from his pocket and handed them to Rouis.

  “You’ll go buy supplies for lunch.”

  Ambre turned away and climbed the stairs, disappearing upstairs.

  “It’ll pass,” Luc said.

  He rummaged again and pulled out one last coin.

  “And this is for a beer.”

  “Thank you.”

  Luc disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Ah. We still have enough for a decent meal. You see, we’re not reduced to chewing on our boots just yet,” he joked.

  He cracked an egg against the edge of a bowl, then a second, and finally a third. He whisked them together before pouring the mixture into the pan, pulled a knife from the drawer, and cut a piece of bacon. As it hit the heat, the bacon sizzled, releasing a layer of grease. Luc set two plates on the table.

  “She was very worried about you.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “She watched over you every night. She changed your sheets, checked your bandages, made sure you lacked nothing.”

  “I didn’t know,” he murmured.

  Luc stood, opened a cupboard, and took out two bottles.

  “Want a beer?”

  “With pleasure.”