Calloway grins at me conspiratorially and my heart swells. “He just doesn’t want us to bring up the time he almost fell out the window of the Council house because he leaned too far back in a chair.”
Shaw crosses his arms. “The floor was slanted,” he deadpans.
Calloway’s laughter rings out into the forest and for a moment, I feel like laughing along with him. Like I belong somewhere, as these three belong to each other.
“As I was saying,” Shaw says pointedly, “I think we need to split up. At this pace, it’s going to take three weeks just to reach Havay.”
His eyes slide to me, and my face reddens.
“If you don’t wish to be inconvenienced by a slow, clumsyLemming,perhaps you shouldn’t have kidnapped one,” I intone, my voice saccharine.
Calloway coughs loudly into his sleeve, a half-hearted attempt to cover what is clearly a laugh. Shaw’s jaw twitches, but his face remains as unreadable as ever as he replies, “Perhaps, I should just knock the Lemming I have unconscious to be spared her thoughts.”
“You’re a brute!”
Amusement passes over his face. “And you, my dear Lemming, walk slower than a turtle.”
My mouth drops in hot indignation, but before I can reply, he turns away, succinctly dismissing me.
“If we miss Havay, we miss the horses. Which means the journey to Nadjaa takes a month rather than a week. We can’t afford to waste that much time. I need you guys to go ahead. Gather the horses, freshen the supplies, and meet up with us near Shadiil Pass.”
Max’s lips pull into a frown, her eyes serious as she studies Shaw. “We shouldn’t split up. Not with who’s controlling this territory now, Shaw.”
I wonder at the worry that tinges her voice. Who could possibly be dangerous to a man like Shaw?
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
Shaw’s eyes land on Max, but instead of hardening with anger, they soften. I had him pegged as the unchallenged leader of the three, but maybe I was wrong. “We’ll be fine, Maxi. Won’t we, Lemming?”
His voice is light, and he smiles in a way that transforms his face from terrifying and cold to warm and charming. I press my lips together, keeping my face neutral. Losing Max and Calloway will only tip the odds in my favor. Shaw may be a formidable foe, but one is certainly better than three.
Max’s eyes narrow. “I don’t like this at all,” she looks to Calloway with a plea in her eyes.
Calloway’s gaze has been volleying between Shaw and I, and I get the distinct feeling he sees far more than he lets on. That perhaps his cheerfulness is meant to conceal the shrewd mind beneath.
He shrugs. “We do need horses,” he says slowly, watching Max closely. “The faster we can get out of this territory, the safer we’ll be.”
They’ve either forgotten I’m here or think so little of me they feel no need to censor their words. But I hoard them as if they are precious weapons. Whoever scares them is someone I need to find.
“Max, we’re all doing things that are uncomfortable. But it’s what has to be done,” Shaw says. It’s an answer, but also a command.
Max relents. She nods once, her back strong and straight. “Be careful,” she says, her voice laden with unspoken words.
Calloway envelops Shaw in a hug. He claps him on the back twice before pulling away, his face serious. “Do not take unnecessary risks, brother.”
I can’t take my eyes off them as Calloway and Max shoulder their packs. My breath is short. I’ve always thought Dark Worlders cared only for themselves, but it isn’t just violence that ties these three together; there is something soft between them, tenable but fierce. Something I know no name for.
As they disappear into the woods, Max with one last pointed look, I feel hollow. It isn’t until much later that I pinpoint the feeling. Jealousy.
* * *
Shaw
Silence presses against my ears. The forest, with its thick canopy leaves blocking all but miniscule slivers of sunlight, makes me feel as if I’m wrapped inside a cocoon. An effect that can be both comforting or disconcerting, depending on the day. At the moment it’s the latter. This wood is raw and ancient. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve been in the heart of the Nemoran, there is always something that lingers just beyond my line of sight that sets my teeth on edge. Something darker than me, darker than even the Praeceptor.
The departure of Max and Cal has only served to further sour my mood. Their absence is a dull ache in my chest, pressing somewhere close to my heart. We’ve been separated many times before, but it never gets any easier. I should take strength from the pain and recognize it for what it is; the ache for home, something I wouldn’t have dared imagine only a few years ago.
I glance at the girl beside me. Her cheeks are flushed with exertion and her breathing is heavy, but she has yet to complain. Maybe that’s the Similian in her? I know little of the inner workings of their society, but from what I observed in my time at the Boundary, complaining is probably an Outcast-worthy offense. Just like everything else that requires individualistic thinking.
