I picked up another rock, still too angry to reply. Too angry to even care that snow was slipping between my toes.
The light from the stone faded. My eyes readjusted to the dark. A minute passed. Then I felt him beside me.
“Partner?” Even in the faint hint of moonlight, I could see his face was pale with worry.
I let out a shaky breath, and threw the rock with all the force I had, nostrils flaring as I listened for the sound of the smash against the tree.
“What utterly horrendous crime has that rock done to offend you?” Rhyan deadpanned. When I remained silent, he said, “It doesn’t matter. I’m also mad at that rock.”
I pushed my hands through my hair, growling in anger.She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s suffering at this very moment! And we’re hiding out here in this fucking cave!
He moved closer, his arms wrapping around my back. “Hey now. Are you all right?” he whispered. “Why are you awake?”
“She’s alive,” I said, my voice breaking. “And alone.”
“I know,” Rhyan said softly, somehow conveying a dozen emotions with two simple words. “I know.” He hugged me tighter, snaking his hand to my neck, his fingers in my hair. “We’re going to get her back. I swear.”
I stepped out of his hold, and shook my head, finally voicing the fear I’d had the last few days. “How do you know? What if … what if when Brockton said that ifhedied, she died … I mean, do you think …?”
“No,” he said definitively. “No. Lyr, I don’t. The scum just wanted to live. Nothing more. The Empire has,” his jaw tensed, “kept Jules alive for a reason. And whatever that is, it’s not tied to him. It doesn’t matter who his uncle is. If the Emperor decided something, then that’s it. Brockton’s not important enough to change things.” Rhyan took a tentative step toward me, his expression unsure. His bronzed curls were mussed with sleep, and there were dark circles under his eyes, his jawline darkened from a day without shaving. He ran his knuckle against my cheek. “As soon as we know more, as soon as we’re sure of where she is, we’ll go and we’ll get her.”
I shook my head.
“I just ...” My voice shook and I could feel my aura flare again with heat. I’d spent my whole life feeling the effects of everyone else’s, it was so strange now that I finally had my own.
“What?” he asked.
My throat tightened. “Nothing.”
He sighed deeply and looked me up and down with concern. “You’re not wearing shoes.”
“Neither are you,” I said.
“Aye. True, but I’m northern, and used to the cold weather,” he spoke with his exaggerated Glemarian accent, the lilts long and winding. He even puffed up his chest for effect. “My balls don’t love it,” he laughed, “but they’ll be just fine.” Then he shook his head, his expression somber. “You though?” he asked. “How are you keeping warm?”
“My aura,” I said. “It’s keeping me from freezing.” I bit my lip, looking him up and down. “I’m sorry you had to come out here. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I woke up on my own,” he said nonchalantly, but there seemed to be something else he wasn’t telling me. Something was wrong. Now his aura was swirling, agitated, full of raw emotion. The cold surrounding his body clashed against the heat in mine. He looked wearily at our surroundings, his right eyebrow lifting at our sleeping gryphon. His left eyebrow remained still. The scar his father had given him ran through it, ending at his cheek. He could barely move that part of his face, or show emotion through that eyebrow, though he wouldn’t admit it.
“Lyr, come inside,” he said.
“I can’t.” I shook my head. “I can’t sleep. I’ll just disturb you.”
“You won’t. And I don’t care if you do. I want you to disturb me. I like sleeping next to you.”
I bit my lip. “It’s probably for the best anyway that one of us is awake. I’ll stand guard.”
“There’s no need. Not with the protection spells you and Meera cast. And I patrolled the perimeter for miles. I checked twice. There’re no threats nearby. None that we won’t have ample warning for.” Rhyan’s hands ran up and down my arms. “You can rest. Youshouldrest. We’re as safe here tonight as we can be.” He kissed my forehead. “Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.” My voice shook. “I’m furious.”
He frowned, one eyebrow furrowed. “Do you want me to find more rocks for you to murder?”
“Rhyan, please. I just … I …” I groaned, throwing my hands in my hair. I knew what he was trying to do. To joke, to tease, to calm me down. To keep me from drowning. Something he’d done dozens of times before. He always seemed to know how to reach me when I was like this. So often, he’d become my anchor in the storm. But it wasn’t going to work. Not this time. “I’m just—”
“You’re what, partner? You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”
“I’m just …” My throat tightened. “So. Fucking. Angry. And I don’t know what to do with myself—or what to do next.”
