Fallon dropped another heavy load of firewood by our camp and snapped, “Only one person needs to stay up to keep watch at a time.”
Nash channeled a small wave of water to splash in Fallon’s face. Rhodes and I choked on our laughter as my sister gave Nasha death stare before wiping her wet hair from her face and tripping him with a tree root that just so happened to jump up from the ground.
“At least we have entertainment,” Rhodes leaned over and whispered in my ear.
I turned my head to him as he propped his chin on my shoulder. “What do we do if they kill each other on this mission? How do we show up in the Hollow without them?”
“Guess we figure that out when it happens,” Rhodes murmured, peppering a soft kiss on my neck that sent chills down my spine.
“Get a tent, you two,” Nash said.
Rhodes straightened at his comment, and I hoped the dark night hid my blush. We had been sitting around the fire since we cooked our dinner of rabbit and bread. We passed one village today but didn’t stop, trying to make good time on the way to the Glade. There’s a small town just before we arrive that Nash says can host us for the night. So forcing myself to eat this burnt rabbit will just have to suffice until we can have a proper meal.
Fallon got up without a word and entered her tent. River curled up beside it. I tossed the stick that was holding my dinner into the fire, enjoying the quick dance of flames crackling in the night. Rhodes stood, holding out his hand for me to join him.
“Scar, can we talk?”
My eyes flicked to Nash at his question. I had been… avoiding being alone with him since the moment we met. I didn’t know how much of the truth he knew about Laney’s death, or if he blamed me like I blamed myself. It had been days since we met in the Hollow’s war room, and he had barely noticed my existence, but he seemed genuine and kind any time he had.
Rhodes squeezed my hand in silent question. I nodded and sat back on the tree stump as he crawled into our tent.
I cleared my throat. “So, um, what would you like to talk about?”
Nash’s brown eyes glowed behind the dancing fire as he smiled softly. “Delaney.”
I remained silent, twisting my fingers in my lap.
“I know you were close. She used to write to me about you. My sister cared for you deeply,” he said softly.
I fought the sting in my eyes. “As I cared for her.” I swallowed. “She was my best friend.”
“I just wanted to let you know that her love for you shined brightly through her words in our letters. A friend of Delaney is a friend of mine. And I’m here if you need anything. Or if you want to read her letters once we arrive at the Glade, you’re more than welcome.”
My breath caught at his offer to read Laney’s words—which I could only assume were full of love and compassion… leading up to her death.
“I would love that more than anything.” I couldn’t hide the crack in my voice.
Nash grinned and nodded. “I know she will be with you wherever you go. So, when you need a touch of Laney’s light, let your heart guide you to the brightest star in the sky.”
We shared a look in the quiet of the night. This deep into winter, there were no summer bugs to fill the silence—only the soft crackle of the campfire and River’s deep, rumbling snores. Nash rose from the tree stump and gave my shoulder a firm squeeze.
“Get some rest. We’ll pack up camp before sunrise,” Nash said, making his way toward his horse.
River’s ears perked in warning the moment Nash started unfolding his tent beside Fallon’s. He knelt to set up—but River let out a low growl. I couldn’t help the grin tugging at my lips as Nash raised both hands in surrender and scooted his supplies a few feet over. Once he was a safe enough distance away, River huffed, gave a satisfied snort, and curled back up to sleep.
I yawned—nature’s not-so-subtle hint to call it a night. When I slipped through the flap of our shared tent, Rhodes was already waiting inside. The tent was clearly made for one soldier. When I’d asked earlier where the fourth tent was, he’d just shrugged, all casual. “Must’ve forgotten,” he said.
Rhodes lay on the bare tent floor beside my bedroll, one arm tucked behind his head, a book in his other hand. His stormy eyes met mine the moment I crawled in. With a quiet pop, he closed the book and tucked it beside him.
Talk about some shelf-control.
“We really need to work on your jokes,” Lakota teased.
“That was a good one!”
“Is it still a good joke if you’re the only one laughing?”
I ignored my sarcastic dragon and slipped off my boots.
