I wonder what he’s thinking about.
Caym asks about my time spent away from him and how I got through it. I tell him the truth, mostly. But I do leave out that Rion tried to rape and kill me and how The Nightmare stood there callously. I can’t break Caym any more than he already has, so I’ll do as I’ve always done and throw this messy revelation somewhere it can’t fester as much.
“So what about the plans about where you two will be staying since we have a long ride ahead of us.”
The question is out of nowhere, my thoughts bouncing around in my head untethered due to my growing restlessness. Caym looks as if I’ve just thrown something at his face.
“I’m leaving that up to Leeson, I’ve learned to not poke that beast with her. If she’s happy, then I’m happy.”
My lip curves up and I feel momentarily lighter. “Ahhh, I see. She’s already got you trained. What a good little soldier.”
He picks up something from his pack and throws it at me. A packet of cloth nails me in the head and his roar of laughter has everyone joining him. How I’ve missed this, the comradery, the community.
Caym and I continued like this until well past midmorning. It was a relief to know that though he’d been harmed too from The Nightmare, we still could find solace in our sibling—like bond.
The Devourer never says a word, as if he’s taken a vow of silence. I’d almost prefer it, but something nags at me that he isn’t even upset or fighting his capture.
He’s been the perfect captive, getting up when he falls, never complaining. Just resolute, solemn even. I expected something different from someone who has been doted on by the king. It’s concerning like he knows we’re walking into a trap.
Dahla continues on, though I begin to notice her head hanging lower as the distance traveled increases.
“I think we should take a rest here, because I need to pee and my ass is numb.”
Relief seems to pull Lees’ smile out.
“I’d like that, my legs would do well with some stretching.” Her airy voice hoovers in the wind.
Utters of agreement follow suit. I look upward into the break in the canopy and search the stars. Clouds form, covering the moons that would otherwise serve as a beacon.
A silver flame in the star scattered sky shoots across the visible patch between the trees crowns. It glints like a jewel and I can’t help but think back on when I laid in the heather with my parents, watching the balls of light plummet to their demise, wishing childish things on them. How naïve I was then.
A voice cracks through the pleasant memory. “What do you wish for?” Merinda asks nonchalantly, her gaze also locked on the trailing light.
I stare into the deep blue pools of her eyes. She looks at me expectantly now, and it almost makes me feel bad for what I answer. “I don’t wish anymore. ” I turn from her, leaving her there. I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that if I let these memories pry out, I’ll combust as if I was a star too, flickering until I burn out.
Making my way back to Dahla, her snout to the soft grass she greedily rips at, I noticeheis as focused as I was looking at thestar, but he isn’t staring at the sky, he’s looking right at me—through me.
Ignoring the way my skin seems to pebble with his blatant stare, I walk to Dahla and flip my saddlebag’s open.
“So, Devourer, how is this night’s stroll going for you? Is it what you anticipated?” I ask him, not bothering to look up from my saddlebag.
I don’t know why I am attempting to bait him. Probably morbid curiosity, like standing on the edge of a cliff to look over, praying you don’t fall.
“It is not what I anticipated.” He pauses. His thoughts and unexpected reply cause me to crane my neck. “I’m not usually dragged around like a treasure to be traded.” The answer throws me off even more.
His voice seems strained when he speaks. I look up from my rummaging and train my eyes on him, chills skittering up my spine in the sudden change of his expression.
His jaw is clenched as if he’s in pain, but his fervent gaze still lingers on me. The walking must be wearing on him, perhaps the culling bands as well.
“Do you need … something?”
The strain in his face looks more pronounced now, and I realize I’ve stepped closer to him, away from Dahla and the barrier I subconsciously put between us.
“I need nothing.” His voice is venomous as he spits out his answer. He dons that mask of indifference again, forcing the pain away. I’ve seen it before but usually in my own reflection.
“You may be our prisoner, but I recognize some battles are not seen.”
He looks distant and hardened again, shut down. The sense of defiance lingers in the air.
