Page 34 of Keeper

“I appreciate it,” I say, trying to inject some normalcy into my voice.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else bothering you?” he asks as his eyes search mine.

“I’m fine, truly.” I plaster on what I hope is a convincing smile, then I find something else to talk aboutother than my deep affection for him. “I’m just a bit shaken up from the market incident.”

He steps back, giving me room to breathe, but somehow making me cold. “You were very brave. Throwing fruit at attackers. That’s creative.”

I laugh. “Well, I didn’t exactly have a sword handy.”

Amusement glints in his eyes. “Next time, maybe aim for something harder, like a coconut.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Though, I’m sure coconuts aren’t native to Karra.”

“We’ll import them specially for you.”

Shouts pierce through the tent, catching Cenric’s attention. His brow furrows as his focus returns to me. “I should escort you to your tent.”

His hand wraps around my upper arm, guiding me outside, where the afternoon sun peeks between thick, brooding clouds.

We walk in silence, his hand still on my arm. Every step sends sparks shooting through my body. It makes me think about things I shouldn’t think about.

So, I try to distract myself by focusing on the sounds of the camp—the clang of swords from the training area, the chatter of warriors gathered around fires, the nickering of horses.

As we near my tent, Cenric’s grip loosens, then falls away entirely.

We stop, and I turn to face him.

“Have a good day, Everly,” he says, then walks away.

Chapter

Nineteen

CENRIC

The momentI leave Everly in her tent, I gather Praxis, Liam, Gabriel, Luc, and fifty of my best men. Nobody attacks my army and lives to see the sunset.

As we point our horses toward Karra, Praxis rides to my right, with Gabriel, Liam, and Luc shadowing us.

“We start at the market,” I say, my voice carrying over the clatter of horses’ hooves. “Split into groups of ten. Question everyone.”

My warriors nod as we stop outside the city, where the guards raise the portcullis.

I came here to ensure peace, not to watch as my men get picked off one by one.

Now, the rebels are attacking civilians too.

We dismount near the busy marketplace and split into groups.

I stride toward the first shop, a medium-sized bakery. Theowner, a round man with flour-dusted hands, smiles as I approach.

“Did you see the attack earlier in the market by three masked men?” I ask.

“I—I didn’t see anything,” he stammers, though he doesn’t look away as he speaks.

I take it as a sign he’s not lying and move on.

Shop after shop, we gather scraps of information. A cobbler mentions seeing suspicious men with masks near the docks. A fruit vendor recalls seeing my men being attacked and the women throwing apples, pears, and figs at them.

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