I shake my head and settle against Gareth. The landscape is finally beginning to level out. Being under the all-encompassing sky, only a few clouds rolling across the blue, is an odd feeling after the Abyss. It’s so open here, exposed, just as dangerous but not as mysterious. In another hour, the black sand beneath us becomes shot through with dark brown dirt, but a stand of trees ahead of us blocks any view beyond.
I squint at them. “I thought you said the trees were gone?”
“I suppose there are a few left.” Gareth rubs my thighs. “I heard your stomach grumbling. Let’s stop for lunch.”
“I’m not going to turn down food. Ever.”
“That’s my darling changeling.” He kisses my crown. “Everyone, circle up!”
His shout halts the company, and everyone crowds in around the wagon as Baralja tends to the unicorns.
“We’re close.” Chastain walks up and stretches. These long rides can make even the immortal fae sore.
Gareth hands me down, my hips aching as I head toward the wagon to help with lunch.
“Stay close.” Gareth eyes my ass as I walk away, and I can feel his attraction. I add a little sway to my steps, enjoying the way he responds down the bond.
“You tempt me, Xalana,” his voice whispers through my mind, and I smile.
Parnon sets up the huge black cauldron as I ferret around in the remaining supplies.
“We’ve got some radishes, carrots with only a little mold, looks like there’s a little bit of salt pork.” I climb up and keep digging around, handing what I can muster to Parnon. “Soup. A hearty soup.”
After stepping down from the wagon, I start cutting off the bad spots on the vegetables as the sand man lights the fire. Other former slaves join in, their hands moving far quicker than mine on food prep. Glancing up, I notice the sun is becoming cloudy, almost misty like the Abyss. The weather here is strange. One of my coworkers grabs the mushy carrot from my hand and slices it up.
“I see I’m out-cooked here.” I back away and scoot closer to the fire. It’s somewhat warm here, but there’s a clammy chill in the air. Not the crisp, cold air of the winter realm, but something slimier. I turn and let the fire go to work on my sore ass. Bending over, I take full advantage of the flames.
“Warming Gareth’s dinner?” Iridiel asks far too loudly, his voice carrying across the camp.
Some of the closest ex-slaves snicker, and Gareth smirks.
“Asshole!” I point at Iridiel, but he’s already gone back to eating his lunch. Was it funny? Yes. Will I laugh? No. At least, not where anyone can see me.
Turning on my heel, I intend to storm off dramatically, but I bump into something hard and stop.
Parnon looks down at me. “Stay close, changeling.”
“I’m close.” I shrug.
“Stay in sight.” He rests his huge, sandy mitt on my shoulder, but his touch is surprisingly gentle. “Just because we’re out of the Abyss doesn’t mean these lands aren’t dangerous. Slavers could be amassing right now to come for us.” He points at the trees but keeps looking at me. “The trees are the only things separating us from the mines.”
“How do you know?” My brows scrunch as I stare into his sand-colored eyes. “Come to think of it, how do you know any of this? You’ve known more about the Abyss and the mines than just about anyone else, but you’re a sand dweller.”
“That’s a story for another day.” He lets go and turns away, his shoulders slumped.
By the Ancestors. Parnon has been hiding a sad tale this whole time, and I’ve been too self-involved to even notice. Some friend I am.
I want to pry, but he’s made himself busy with the fire, so I do a few laps around the camp to shake out the stiffness in my joints. I’m wearing out, I suppose. I mean, I’m still young, but youth is fleeting for a changeling. Gareth, though, he’s still in his prime and—Nope, not going there again. I push away those dour thoughts and do a few more laps under the watchful eyes of both my mate and the sand man. When lunch is ready, I take my steaming bowl of soup and huddle with Gareth, Chastain, and Parnon. The sun is even more obscured now, the thick cloud lingering high above us and making me shiver.
I slurp some of the broth, the taste a bit too much like rotten onions for my liking. But food is food.
“Beyond the trees is the entry to the mines.” Parnon kneels and draws with one thick finger in the dark dirt. “There are two large hills on either side, here and here, that create a lane through the center. Once we get past those, the mines are everywhere, holes that go almost as deep as the Abyss, shafts that you can barely see but one wrong step will send you down to your death and—”
“Fun.” I slurp some more soup.
Gareth lovingly wipes my chin with his sleeve. No scolding regarding my terrible manners falls from his lips, no promises of spankings. I suppose I need to slurp louder.
“The slaves dwell in two large barracks in the very center of the camp, here.” He draws two long rectangles. “The slavers’ villas are farther back atop this slope. And outward from that central area, roads twist and turn throughout the land, many of them ending in deadfalls or watery pits.” He stabs the ground for emphasis.
