lost I was born

The horses milled about, grazing contentedly on long tethers as Adam and Ronan ate in silence.

When they were done, Adam sat back, staring into the heart of the fire while Ronan sharpened his dagger with a whetstone.

“What do they say about me?” Adam asked suddenly.

“Who?”

“The court.”

Ronan snorted.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do.”

“You really don’t.”

Adam leaned forward, picking up a stick and poking at the fire.

“I want to know.”

The scrape of whetstone against steel continued for a few moments, then paused.

“They say you’re a sorcerer.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

“They say you can read minds.”

“No.”

“They say you spent ten years in a cave.”

“Not quite.”

“They say you’re the bastard son of an exiled lord.”

Adam’s expression didn’t change.

“That’s true, at least,” he said.

Ronan glanced up, his own face unreadable.

“What do they say about you?” Adam asked.

The fire crackled and an owl hooted somewhere high up in the trees.

“I don’t care,” Ronan said gruffly.

“That’s not what I asked.”

The whetstone paused again.

“They say… They say I’m dangerous.”

Adam barked a laugh.

“Well, that’s true.”

The corner of Ronan’s mouth twitched.

“I heard you killed twelve men at Blackwater Ford.”

“I killed four.”

“Modest.”

Ronan gave him a look that would’ve had most men shrinking, but Adam sat up straighter.

“They say you’ve never lost a tourney.”

Ronan shrugged, going back to his whetstone.

“And they say–”

Adam hesitated and Ronan looked up, instantly suspicious.

“What?”

Adam looked away.

“What do they say, Parrish?”

Adam shot one look up at the sky above, shrouded by smoke, then looked back at Ronan.

“They say you’ve not once visited a whorehouse.”

The silence that followed was immediate and interesting, Ronan’s expression closing like a portcullis. He exhaled once through his nose, an almost-huff of disbelieving laughter.

“Not another word,” he growled.

Adam sat back, watching him, suddenly fascinated.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

Ronan threw the whetstone to the ground and held the dagger up, inspecting it in the firelight.

“They think you’re celibate,” Adam went on.

He saw the tension in Ronan’s jaw, followed by the heat in his eyes as he looked up.

“They think you’re sworn to the prince in more ways than one.”

Ronan surged to his feet.

“Watch your fucking tongue.”

Adam remained seated, at ease, though his heart was pounding now.

“Why?” he asked. “I’m just repeating what everyone else is saying.”

“Because you’re being a pain in my ass.”

“People talk,” Adam pointed out.

“People are fools.”

Adam folded his arms.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

Ronan sank back down and pressed the point of the dagger into his thumb, producing a single bead of red.

“I think if Gansey told you to jump, you’d ask how high.”

“Be careful, Parrish.” Ronan said, voice low.

“You’d follow him anywhere,” Adam continued.

“Yes,” Ronan said, looking up.

“Do anything he asked.”

“Yes.”

“Die for him.”

Ronan held his gaze steady.

“Without hesitation.”

Adam had already known that, but the certainty in Ronan’s voice unsettled him far more than he expected.