Page 15 of To Kill a King
“Don’t be. You’re not to blame for The Purge. It happened long before you, your father, or your father’s father were born.” He nodded toward the stacks of firewood, and the two furry bodies beyond. “How do you like your rabbit?”
Excitement washed over her. Here was her chance to learn how to live on her own. The crisp chill in the air didn’t bother her at all as she sprang from the bedroll.
“Are you normally in such a hurry to light things on fire?” He chuckled. “Let’s check your ankle, first.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him as he laughed. Unwrapping the bandage, she rolled the joint experimentally. “That feels a lot better! Amazing. You may be more skilled than my father’s healer.”
He nodded as he probed at it and tested its rotation. “Good, good. That must be high praise. I’m glad.” He released her. “Re-wrap it for another day and I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He paused for a moment. “Your father. Is he a likable man?”
A chill creeped into her gut like black tar as the smile drained from her face. She took two deep breaths to steady herself and swallowed. “Depends on who you are, what he wants from you, and how likely he is to obtain it.” She wrapped her ankle, grateful for the excuse to not stare at the elf. “If he thinks it will benefit him, he’ll be your best friend. Otherwise, he’ll throw you away like trash.”
Like he’d discarded her.
Elessan sighed. “No man at all, I suppose, then.”
He sounded awfully melancholy for someone who had no skin in that particular game.
“Don’t feel too bad,” she said. “My destiny was always to be protected and guarded until I could be traded away for something he wanted. I just didn’t realize the monster he intended to gift me to until it was too late.” Unlike her mother, who had genuinely loved her, the baron had only ever seen her as an investment.
“Hmmm.” He was quiet for several breaths. Finally, he gestured to the piles of branches. “Do you see this wood? Tell me about it.”
Grateful for the change in subject, she looked at the bundles. Biting her lip, she frowned. What did he want her to say? Wood was wood. She met his gaze. Apparently, he expected her to put some effort in if he was going to teach her. Fair enough.
She gawked at the assortment. “Um… The sticks are brown?”
He rubbed his chin. “Brown?”
“Well, mostly. Those over there—” she pointed to the pile on the right— “are more of a white color.”
He nodded. “Okay. Excellent. Any other distinctions?”
Staring at him like a rabbit caught in a trap, she swallowed. “Some came from trees, others from bushes?”
“Admirable guess, but not what I’m looking for. Look closer. Pick it up, touch it. Tell me what you notice.”
She selected a few pieces from each group and examined them. After several minutes, she said, “I don’t know what types of timber these came from, but they’re separated loosely into three piles—small, medium and large. I assume that means something. Also, I think this wood’s quite a bit drier than what I used last night. Otherwise, I have no idea.”
He smiled, flashing his pointed canines at her. “Yes, well done. The branches are dry, and they consist of more than tiny sticks and pine needles. I would start with a bed of the kindling first, so let’s go with that.” At her hesitation, he waved her toward the previous night’s coals.
Watching him carefully for cues, she picked up two handfuls of the smallest bits and dumped them in a pile.
“Now, use some smaller pieces on either end to rest a slightly larger one over that, and light the fire.” He paused. “Without magic.”
She scrunched her forehead. “Light it? Without magic? You mean, like, rub two sticks together?”
He chortled. Jerking his head back with an incredulous expression, he cleared his throat.
She raised an eyebrow. “Been awhile since you laughed?”
After a heartbeat, he turned back to her. “Thankfully, we aren’t that desperate,” he said, ignoring her second comment. He gestured to two rocks lying innocuously off to the side. “We’ll use flint and steel. Strike them and angle the sparks to ignite the twigs.”
He was crazier than a soup sandwich. Beating stones to start a fire? This must be a joke. She studied his expression, but there was no glint in his eye or anything beyond patient expectation. Perhaps there was some truth to the belief that elves were simple-minded, after all. Well, either way, she’d find out soon enough. If not, she’d be one step closer to building a campfire.
Here went nothing.
She banged the two rocks he’d indicated together as hard as she could. A burst of flares erupted in front of her. Scrambling, she landed on her backside, her heart thumping against her chest. She took a couple of deep breaths as her pulse slowed. Not daring to peek at him to see his reaction, she scooted back to the pile of wood.
By the fourth strike, she managed to direct some sparks into the bed of pine needles, and the fuel started to smoke. He leaned in and lightly blew on the embers until flames caught the kindling and crackled merrily.