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Chapter no 3 – THE SCENT OF ROT

A Soul of Ash and Blood (A Blood and Ash Book 5)

Six guards had ridden out on horseback to take care of the Craven before they reached the Rise.

Three returned.

It was rare for those who fell outside the Rise to be brought back for burial rites. Sometimes, there was simply nothing left of the body for their loved ones to mourn. Usually, it was all due to the Ascended not wanting

the people to know exactly how many were lost while fighting the Craven.

In other words, they didnโ€™t want the people to know how little control they had of the situation.

I tensed as I watched one of the guards dismount just inside the Rise.

The man was unsteady on his feet. I inhaled deeply, catching the stale-sweet scent ofโ€ฆrot. Shit. Not liking the look of what Iโ€™d seen or smelled, I walked to the edge and waited for the guard to turn.

โ€œHawke Flynn.โ€ The high-pitched, nasally voice of Lieutenant Dolen Smyth cut through the low chatter of those on the Rise. โ€œYou werenโ€™t at roll call this afternoon.โ€

Pence bowed as was required for one of Smythโ€™s position. I didnโ€™t. Instead, I tracked the dark-haired guardโ€™s movements as he spoke with several other guards on the ground. โ€œI was there.โ€

โ€œI just said I didnโ€™t see you,โ€ Lieutenant Smyth snapped, which was utter bullshit. Heโ€™d seen me. I knew he had because heโ€™d been eyeballing me like he wanted to see my head on a spike. โ€œSo, exactly how were you there, Flynn?โ€

โ€œIโ€™m not sure how to answer that question.โ€ The guard I was tracking had started walking, leading his nervous horse to the stables. He turned briefly, his profile blanched in the firelight. I recognized him. Jole Crain. He was young. Fuck, he was younger than Pence. โ€œI think it would be a question better asked of a Healer.โ€

โ€œAnd why the hell would you think that?โ€ Lieutenant Smyth demanded. โ€œBecause if you didnโ€™t see meโ€ฆโ€ I began, catching sight of Pence out of

the corner of my eye. He looked as if he were attempting to disappear into one of the curved parapets. โ€œThen there appears to be something wrong

with your vision.โ€ I turned to the Lieutenant then, smiling tightly. The white mantle of the Royal Guard flapped from his slender shoulders in the wind

like a flag of surrender. While Smyth lorded his authority over others like far too many in his position, heโ€™d earned that coveted spot among the Royal Guard. Only the strong and the skilled stayed alive long enough to make it off the Rise. โ€œAnd I would suggest you have that checked out immediately.โ€

โ€œThere is nothing wrong with my vision.โ€ The blond Lieutenant sputtered, and his normally ruddy cheeks flushed even more in anger.

I reminded myself that throwing his ass off the Rise would not do me any favors. โ€œThen you did see me. Perhaps there is an issue with your memory, then.โ€

His nostrils flared as he took a step toward me, but then he stopped himself. The knuckles of his right hand turned white from how tightly he clenched the hilt of his broadsword. He didnโ€™t draw it. It was clear he wanted to, though. Whatever instinct the man possessed had prevented him from making an entirely foolish choice. Or perhaps it was smarts. Smyth

was as intelligent as he was a bastard.

And I was beginning to think he was perhaps too wise. Too observant.

Because heโ€™d been on my ass from day one, watching my every move and asking too many questions.

โ€œYour disrespect will be reported,โ€ he said finally, his tone pitching even higher than usual. โ€œAnd weโ€™ll see what Commander Jansen has to say.โ€

My smile kicked up a notch. โ€œI suppose we will.โ€

โ€œJust so you know,โ€ he bit out, lifting his pointed chin, โ€œIโ€™ve got my eye on you, Flynn.โ€

โ€œMost do,โ€ I replied, then winked.

Lieutenant Smythโ€™s shoulders stiffened. It appeared as if he wanted to say more, but disappointingly, he stalked forward, bumping my shoulder as he continued on the patrol path.

Chuckling, I looked to where Pence had nearly blended into the shadows of the parapet.

โ€œExactly how big are your balls?โ€ the guard asked. I snorted. โ€œNormal size, the last I checked.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t know about that.โ€ Pence crossed the battlement, dragging a hand through his windblown hair. โ€œSmyth is a prick.โ€

โ€œI know that.โ€

โ€œThen you have to know heโ€™s going to do exactly what he said. Heโ€™ll go to the Commander.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m sure he will,โ€ I said, straightening the strap of my baldric as I glanced at where Iโ€™d last seen the guard. โ€œJole Crain has a chamber in the dorms, right?โ€

โ€œYeah. Heโ€™s on the third floor.โ€ Penceโ€™s brow knitted. โ€œWhy do you ask?โ€

I shrugged.

Pence eyed me for a moment. โ€œYou arenโ€™t worried at all about the Lieutenant, are you?โ€

โ€œNot at all.โ€ And I wasnโ€™t.

Lieutenant Smyth didnโ€™t even register on the list of things I was concerned about.

I lifted my gaze to the Citadelโ€™s stone towers, then looked farther out past the edges of the Lower Ward and Wisherโ€™s Grove, beyond the wider, nicer streets and lush manors. My stare fixed on the sprawling, arched walls of Castle Teerman, where the Maiden likely slept peacefully, safe in her

stone and glass cage, out of reach.

But not for long.

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