The Seer Rowan McAllister (top inspirational books .TXT) 📖

someone. Perhaps he would have a tale worthy of writing down someday after all. The thought reminded him of what he’d been forced to leave behind on the ferry and his chest tightened with loss before he shoved the feeling aside. Dwelling on it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He’d meant what he said. He was starting over for the second time. It was time to leave his first life behind.

They dug into the heaping bowls of hot, meaty stew and warm buttered bread, while Ravi allowed his mind to wander to more pleasant things as he glanced at his companion frequently. Daks only remained mired in his own thoughts for a short while before he caught Ravi’s gaze and his lips curved slyly.

“Told you this place would be worth the journey,” Daks murmured.

“You did.”

Daks’s eyes hooded as he licked his lips. “After the healer, I’ll keep the rest of my promises too.”

Something fluttered in Ravi’s overstuffed belly, and his cock twitched.

Not now, he scolded his wayward dick. They still had to walk through the town.

Their inn rested alongside a few other shops and taverns at the top of a hill overlooking the town square and the river beyond. Ravi had been too distracted to note much else about Pazar when they’d arrived, especially since they’d come from the forest road rather than the shore. Daks had taken them inland from the cabin until they’d reached that road, possibly to make their journey easier, but also so neither of them would have to see any more of the devastation the flood had wrought or deal with too many scavengers.

To his outsider’s eye, Pazar looked much like Traget. The houses, shops, and inns were constructed of similar rough-cut beams, rock, and plaster. People filled the streets, hawking their wares or filling their baskets. But there was one striking difference between the two towns—the color. Yellow, red, orange, and purple flowering plants, banners, and even some painted murals adorned many of the buildings. Instead of the dull grays and browns of Rassan dress, even the lowliest Sambaran seemed to have a splash of color somewhere on them, be it a ribbon holding back loose waves of flowing hair or a brightly dyed leather belt or scarf.

It might have been his imagination, but the people seemed brighter and happier too. Rassans weren’t overly demonstrative people. In fact, they were quite proud of their reserve. He knew that, but the contrast was still striking as he surreptitiously studied the people they passed. It made him wonder if Rassans had ever been that free, if maybe the Brotherhood had taken their joy along with everything else and they just didn’t realize it.

He shook his head at his own philosophical meanderings. He’d lived in Arcadia for a long time. Life was hard there, but he’d still seen children laughing and people smiling as they sang their hymns and went about their work. Surely there were plenty of places in Rassa where people were as happy as these. Just because someone didn’t wear that joy out where everyone could see it didn’t mean it wasn’t there, right?

The press of bodies around them made Ravi wish he’d dug his old cloak out of their packs before they left, even if all their clothes were badly in need of washing. He wasn’t used to being around this many people without his hood to hide behind, and he found himself edging closer to Daks with every minute that passed. After the second time Ravi bumped into him, Daks threw him a sideways glance.

Daks didn’t say anything, but Ravi almost tripped over his own feet when Daks grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together. Swallowing his shock, Ravi stared at him questioningly, but Daks kept his gaze locked on where they were going. After shooting a slightly embarrassed glance at the crowd around them, Ravi allowed the comfort of Daks’s grip to make its warm way up his arm and into his chest. He had so many new things he’d have to get used to, but this one he’d do gladly if Daks let him.

A new life. A new start.

He lifted his chin, met a few curious stares from passersby, and reciprocated their nods of acknowledgment and greeting like he was anyone else who belonged there. He even smiled a few times, though the stretch of his lips felt awkward.

The healer was a no-nonsense lean older woman with sharp, assessing brown eyes and a steel-gray braid that trailed down her back. By the cluster of injured people sitting in neat rows in the tavern’s common room, she had her work cut out for her, but she didn’t bat an eye when Daks and Ravi came in. After questioning them to make sure neither was in any immediate danger, another woman in a white apron wrote their names on a slate and directed them to a bench.

Ravi had dozed off at least twice in the time it took for the healer to get to them again. He supposed it was lucky for them they hadn’t arrived on the first day or two after the flood or their wait would have been even longer. The whole time, Daks clasped Ravi’s hand in his lap and held him close to his side with an arm around his waist, and Ravi drank in the contact like sunlight after years of rain.

The woman in the white apron came to them first. She cleaned the wound on Daks’s head and removed the stitches along his ribs before the healer came to join them. Ravi hadn’t been nervous up until that point, but when the healer pulled a glowing green stone out of her pocket and leaned in close to Daks, he flinched. Daks’s hand tightened on his, and he gave Ravi a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay.”

Blowing out a breath, Ravi sat still and watched closely as the woman passed the stone over the wounds. A lifetime of prejudice wouldn’t be overcome in a few hours, but