Pharis sniffed a little laugh. “Of course he was.”
He held out a hand for the flask, which I gave him. He took a swig then went back to staring at the fire.
It cast a warm orange glow that illuminated the space around us and made his cerulean blue eyes look even more otherworldly than they usually did.
I wasn’t sure whether it was the saol water or the fire’s tranquilizing warmth, but I could no longer sit up. I lay down on his cloak, its heady scent surrounding me as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” I asked then yawned widely.
Pharis’ gaze didn’t stray from the fire. “Not yet. I’m fairly certain we weren’t spotted as we crossed the field, but I want to make sure we weren’t followed. I’ll stay up a bit.”
Always wary. Always controlled. Pharis seemed invincible to me with his wide shoulders and powerful build and that cut-granite jaw moving slowly as he chewed a bite of his own raff stick.
After another yawn, I said, “Pharis?”
He looked up. The firelight reflecting in his topaz irises made them look like flames dancing on water.
“Why didn’t you tell your father about my part in the assassination plot?”
That mesmerizing blue-green gaze held mine for a long moment, then the side of his mouth quirked up, and he returned to staring at the fire.
“Go to sleep, little Wyn.”
Unable to stop myself, I did.
When I woke, Pharis was walking back toward the still-burning fire, apparently returning from the front of the cave. I pushed to a sitting position, swiping back the hair that had fallen over my face.
“Is it nighttime?”
“No, you’ve only been sleeping about three hours,” he said. “It’s just past midday.”
“Oh. What were you doing?”
“Checking on things.”
He answered my next question before I could ask it. “All clear. It’s raining. I didn’t even hear the storm in here.”
I cocked my head, turning an ear toward the direction from which he’d come. I couldn’t hear any rain either. But if it was raining outside, there would be no bright sunlight.
“Would your shadow glamour cloak us in the rain?” I asked hopefully.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never tried it. But it’s doubtful. I need some sleep anyway. You should lie back down, too.”
For some reason, I felt wide awake now. I did recline again but didn’t close my eyes. Instead I watched Pharis settle himself on the floor, resting his head on Dargan’s saddle.
“What did those Dryads say to you back there?” I asked. “And how do you know their language?”
He stared up at the firelight painting patterns on the cave ceiling. “I know all the Fae languages—learned them as a boy. As far as what they said… it was nothing good.”
His gaze darted over to meet mine then went back to the ceiling. “They were threatening… us.”
“So Dryads don’t like Elves?” I asked.
While my reading had taught me of the existence of other species, I knew nothing of their politics.
“Not anymore,” he said. “According to my history lessons, there used to be peace between the species, but it’s eroded since my father claimed control over all of them. They don’t like being ruled by an Elven king and want to rule themselves.”
He yawned. “I don’t blame them, but that’s why it’s dangerous for a single Elf and a human to run across a group of other Fae in a remote area.”
