Silver hell, I sounded likesuchan ass.
I should apologize, but I’m not sure how— or when. Since we’re camping, we won’t have a moment of privacy later.
Before I left Ironrose the first time, I told him that when I got back, we’d ride out to Silvermoon and spend the night under the stars. Tonight, we might be under the stars, but it’s going to be an empty riverbed, not a bustling marketplace, and we’re not going to be alone.
Just another promise I can’t keep, I suppose.
I finally look away from the group and let my eyes search the landscape. We don’t need to get slaughtered by an ambush while I’m mooning over Jax.
But this part of Emberfall is endless acres of open fields and tilled land, interspersed by the occasional dirt road. No scravers, few travelers, nothing to occupy my thoughts. Eventually the terrain grows a bit hilly, with forests and tree lines and plenty of shadows to grab my focus. But even then, Malin’s competence works against me, and we reach the river when there’s still a bit of light in the sky.
I sigh, returning to the group. We tether the horses along the tree line, then set about making camp. It’s clear the rapport between Sephran and Jax extends to Leo, because they build a fire and set a pot of water to boil with the kind of effortless efficiency that only exists among friends. I can’t help but watch as I silently strip Mercy’s gear. Jax might’ve learned a lot of Emberish, but it’s obvious that the others have learned a bit of Syssalah, too. Their conversation is a weird mix of both.
An arrow whacks me across the arm, too hard to be entirely friendly. I whip my head around. “Ow.Malin, what the—”
“Come on.” He whacks me again. “Let’s find dinner.”
I scowl, but I turn to follow. We stride through the brush, moving away from the fire and the low rumble of conversation, shifting into the darkness like ghosts. We slip between the trees wordlessly, our eyes searching the shadows for prey.
Malin doesn’t speak, but I know from experience that he’ll be silent as an assassin until one of us puts an arrow into something. Within minutes, we hear a rustle, and I nock an arrow on the string of my bow. We wait, and eventually a shadow shifts between the trees ahead. Maybe some elk, though they tend to stick to open fields. Deer, most likely, though it seems too small.
Before I can shoot, an ice- cold breeze rolls through the trees, and I go still. Malin is frozen in place beside me, his own arrow locked against his bow. His gaze shifts to meet mine. I let out a slow breath, watching to see if it clouds in the air— usually the first clear sign of scravers.
It doesn’t. The air settles, making me wonder if it wasn’t very cold at all.
For a long moment, Malin doesn’t move. Then his eyebrows go up, questioning. He doesn’t want to spook the deer, but I know what he’s asking.
I glance up at the stars, but there’s too much tree cover here. I could send magic into the air to see if anything is there, but if it’s scravers, they’ll follow that magic right back to me. I don’t want to make us a target.
In the distance, someone laughs. It’s not Jax, but we’re too far for me to tell if it’s Leo or Sephran.
I look back at Malin and give a little shake of my head, then nod back toward where we saw the shadow.
But this time, my focus is on the feeling of the air on my skin, on the night sky above.
Nakiis, I think, wishing I could speak mind to mind the way he can. I learned how to recognize the feel of his magic, but I don’t sense it now.Is that you?
Another breeze rustles through the woods, and my heart jumps. But this one isn’t cold at all. Those shadows ahead move through the trees, finding moonlight.
Not deer or elk at all. Wild turkeys.
Beside me, Malin’s bow snaps hard. A second later, I hear the punch of impact, and the surviving turkeys scatter wildly, making a racket of squawking as they scramble through underbrush and attempt to fly.
I could hit another, but there aren’t many of us, and I don’t want to waste the meat. I let the tension out of my bowstring, then shove my arrow back in my quiver. “Nice kill. You didn’t need me.”
“Nah.” He scoffs and strides through the trees. “But you needed something to do.”
I sigh and follow, though he probably doesn’t need help carrying one wild turkey. “That obvious?”
“Only to me.” He reaches the dead bird and yanks the arrow free. “Seph too. Probably. Oh, and Leo. I don’t really know Jax, but I’m sure—”
“Mal.”
He grins, wipes the arrow in the brush, and shoves it back in the quiver. “Trouble in paradise?”
We’re alone out here, and way too far for the others to hear, but I flush anyway. “I don’t know.” I hesitate. “I was gone so long. Maybe . . . maybetoolong.”
He picks up the bird by the leg and begins to walk back toward camp. “I’m sure riding fifty yards away from the group made that better.”
