Chapter 28
At night, when the sky was dark, Herrith felt his sorrow ease a little. It was the best time of day for his weary soul. Around the fire, the faces of the young ones softened and glowed, and their wounds faded. Herrith hated seeing the marks on their bodies. They had received these scrapes and cuts because of the actions of the king. Herrith had served that king his whole life, even if it was for the resistance.
Abbas handed him a bowl of grilled fish, flaky, tender, and steaming, with sour leaves cooked in the style of the villagers. If Herrith was honest, he knew he felt unworthy to be here. It had become hard to identify himself by the gold cord tied in his hair, by the knowledge of who he truly was. Herrith would have imagined that he would find it easier to know himself aw
