“I do not have a short temper,” I snapped.
Gareth sat up, his expression guileless. “I was speaking in the most general of terms.”
“Enough bickering,” Ryder said gruffly. “I’m tired, and the wine, very sadly, is gone.”
“What’s going on with the two of you?” Talan asked, his expression one of deep concern, as if we were squabbling children and he a patient, slightly annoyed parent. And the worst part was, I couldn’t blame him.
I rose and went to the table to discard my empty cup. “Nothing’s going on. I’m afraid the transition from academia to actual service has been quite a shock for Gareth. He doesn’t have the constitution for it.”
“In fact, I do,” Gareth said, “and realizing that frightens you.”
With a laugh, I turned to face him. “Frightensme?”
Gareth was serious now, his false smile gone. “Yes, because it means your insults have no basis in reality, so you’ll eventually have to confront the real reason for this misdirected anger of yours.”
“Whose reality are you talking about, Gareth?” I was past pride now, past our thorny gamesmanship. I squatted in front of him, hisface mere inches from my own. “Your reality? Or mine? Because my reality is leading soldiers into mortal danger every time I leave the priory. Watching people burn and bleed out because of commands I’ve given. Wondering what each new day will bring—a breach in the Mistline and all the rampant destruction that comes with that? An invasion of Olden hostiles finally making it past our defenses and tearing Rosewarren to pieces? My friends not returning from their nightly patrols? The Mist breaching all its borders and flooding the entire continent because I wasn’t strong enough to hold it back nor clever enough to repair it?”
I paused, my whole body tingling from anger, from the instinct to fight, from Gareth’s awful, exhilarating nearness. “What is your reality, Gareth? Please do tell me.”
For a long moment, Gareth said nothing. He simply watched me, his green eyes flitting all over my face as if searching for something elusive. “To answer your question, Gemma,” he said at last, slowly, quietly, “as you can see, your sister and I have grown quite close during my time at Rosewarren. You might even say we’re the best of friends now.”
I couldn’t let him have the last word. I stood, looking down at him. “You might, if you were delusional.”
“True. Onewouldhave to be delusional to assume genuine affection when all signs point to that very thing.” He paused, then snapped his fingers. “Wait, no. One would have to be delusionalnotto.”
“Affection should not be confused with courtesy.”
“Ah, so you were simply beingpoliteall this time? Even when we danced together in Fairhaven? And what about the way you look at me when you think I won’t notice, the way you leaned into my touch that day in the training yard—was that politeness as well?”
Gemma, watching us wide-eyed, said quietly into her cup, “I would very much like to hear more about that day in the training yard.”
I barely heard her. Gareth was all I could see, all I could hear, all I knew. I wanted to tackle him, strike him, pin him to those furs and kiss him silent.
“You think too highly of yourself,” I said, flicking out each word as if it were a blade, “and your imagination has betrayed you.”
Gareth smiled sadly. “And your anger is betraying you.”
“All right,enough,” Farrin snapped, silencing us both. “We have a mission in the morning, so I suggest you act like the adults you are and quash whatever ill will exists between you. When we return to Rosewarren, by all means keep sniping at each other. But until then, I don’t want to hear another word of it.”
The room went quiet after that. The only sounds were the crackling fire, which had begun to die, and the rustle of fabric as we all settled into our beds. For a long time, I lay awake in the growing dark. I stared at the stone wall, my back to the room. An hour passed, then two, and finally my body relaxed enough that sleep seemed possible. But my sentinel senses were still restless, and as the fire quieted, the only other sound in the room rose up to take its place: the sound of everyone breathing as they slept.
I resisted the urge for as long as I could before turning my attention toward Gareth’s bed. His breathing was steady, the slightest snore rattling on every inhale. I heard an echo of his voice in the shape and tone of his breath, and when he shifted, turning in his sleep, he let out a soft sigh, and my chest ached so much I could hardly breathe. I relived everything we had said to each other, torturing myself with the memory, until I could no longer ignore my exhaustion and fell hard into a troubled sleep.
Chapter 14
The next day, as we slogged westward through the snow-choked forest in our furs, following Posey’s lead, I began to lose all sense of time, but I didn’t realize it until Gemma, to my left, stumbled and nearly fell.
Before leaving the safe house, she had cast glamours around herself, Farrin, and me to disguise our godhood, which, as we’d learned, the Old Country’s magic made far too obvious. The glamour’s magic rippled against me with a quick lash of cold, faltering just as Gemma did.
Talan caught her arm and held her to him. “Gemma? What is it, love?”
She shook her head, leaning hard against him. Her face gleamed with sweat, and her skin was shockingly pale.
“I’m fine, I just need a moment. Something…” She looked around, squinting as if into a bright light. “Something has changed. My joints are on fire.”
Talan glanced at me. “We have to stop,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically annoyed. “We’ve been going for hours, she’s exhausted, and I’m starving.”
That surprised me and sent a chill down my spine. “But we just stopped to eat lunch.”
