The ward was erected and dinner was prepared, cooked, and eaten in silence. After they’d finished, Vade sharpened his blades. She’d managed to kill a few flies that tried to land on her rabbit and put them in Bute’s jar, but he hadn’t touched them.
Orelia stared at the fire, arms wrapped around her bent legs and chin resting on one knee. Her thoughts went to Teegan’s hearth andthe fires they’d shared over the years. Orelia would play with Jax on the floor, each with their own carved, wooden horse pretending they were batalins fighting against the dragons of the sea.
There was warmth, and laughter, and love. Her heart ached at the memory. She hoped Teegan had taken Millie and the other Pony girls under her wing before Rae got to them. Rae had a tendency to push too hard, and Orelia often had to heal new girls Rae befriended who weren’t ready for what was expected of them.
The girls were all motherless daughters, forced into a life no one had been able to save them from. And Orelia wasn’t there to help. Contrition sat like a lump in her throat.
Something appeared to her right, and she shrieked, quickly scooting away.
Vade was crouched with the map in his hand. “Thought you may want to see it again.”
She kept herself in a tight ball. “No, thank you.”
When he extended his arm, she flinched. He gave her a strange look, then said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes. She stared at the yellow square of parchment, anything to avoid looking at him. “You already did.” The truth came out in a broken whisper.
Vade didn’t move for what felt like minutes. The focus of her stare could have burned a hole in the paper. Eventually, he set the map on her bedroll before making for his. Orelia left the map untouched and crawled under her thin blanket, turning her back to him so hecouldn’t see her cry.
He may not be able to kill her, but he could certainly wound. She doubted today would be the last time his hand was around her throat.
Or worse.
Quiet tears dripped down her face, landing on the pack under her cheek. Orelia curled into a ball, tugged the blanket over her mouth, and sobbed into the scratchy fabric, regretting ever trying the spell and leaving the safety of home.
ten
Though it was onlya few marks past midday, Vade said they needed to make camp. They’d reach Ricaboro tomorrow, but there was a shelter in the woods he knew of. With the smell of imminent rain and gray skies, Orelia didn’t mind stopping early. Her legs were still getting used to the hours of walking and her body healed quicker when they paused.
Vade had been softer toward her today but gave no verbal indication that he was sorry for nearly choking her to death. She supposed him giving her more rabbit for breakfast and not asking to have his map back was his way of apologizing.
She expected a small village, or at least a trading post, but when they came upon a rocky fortress barely the size of a hut, Orelia frowned.
Vade sent his shadows through the slats in the wooden door. A few seconds later, the tendrils snuck back into his fingertips. “It’s empty.”
“Your shadows can tell if someone’s in there?”
“I feel around the space, and if someone is wherever I’m looking, they try to sever my shadows with a weapon or harm them with magic.”
Orelia ran her palm along the smooth, brown stone half covered in vines. “Does it hurt when someone does that?”
“No, it’s more like pressure.”
For once, his tone was neutral, not scolding or irritated. He was actually being . . .pleasant.
Vade pulled on the fraying rope handle and stepped inside. “This is a place for travelers to spend the night. There are a few scattered throughout the continent. This one’s not my favorite, but it’ll do.”
Orelia poked her head in and was immediately hit with the scent of sweat and musk. Two small, pillow-less beds with bits of twigs and grass on them lined opposite walls. She couldn’t tell if the beds had actual mattresses or were a jumble of thick blankets stacked together. When she sat on one and it felt like sitting on a slab of stone, she got her answer.
A blackened circle of ash inside a grouping of stones sat in the middle of the single room, marking the place for a fire. The shelter was windowless, holding in the stagnant air, but there was a hole in the middle of the ceiling large enough for smoke to escape. Not much, but it was safe from the elements.
Vade sat on the bed across from her and began unpacking his cookware and whetstone. She knew his routine by heart now.
Wake up.
Make breakfast.
Walk.
