“I did. Doesn’t mean I enjoyed the experience,” I muttered.
My grumbling died away as Harthon maneuvered us to the edge of a small cliff, the trees dropping away to offer an unfettered view of the land. I’d thought the valley surrounding the city center was beautiful, but it was a speck of dirt compared to…to this.
Mountains—real, sharp, white-tipped mountains—rose far in the distance like giants standing guard over the land. Two wide rivers changed from a dull gray to a rich green as they wove between the patches of yellow grasslands and woods, and smoke billowed into the air from the small communities that peppered the expanse.
Harthon’s lips tickled the crest of my ear. “To your right.”
Like a puppet, I turned my head, and my breath whooshed from my lungs.
It was nothing like I thought it would be.
Those walls reflected the land, but only in blots of brown and yellow and gray, the swirling, shimmery quality distorting the trueshapes below us. It rose high into the sky, maybe level with the mountains in the distance, before sweeping back into its dome shape. It was like a mountain of its own, swallowing the land with its massive width that ate all of the southern sky. It was magnificent and breathtaking and wrong, all at once.
“I’ve never seen it,” I breathed, staring at the Domus.
“I figured,” Harthon said into my ear. “This is the best view. It’s further away than it appears.”
With so much vastness, those walls appeared not half a day’s ride away.
“Do you think showing me this will help me find the path?”
“It might,” he mused. “But that’s not why I brought you up here.”
“Why, then?”
“I just thought you’d enjoy the view.”
Chapter 14
Iawoke to the smell of a smoldering campfire, my skin chilled. The wool blanket and sleeping mat had kept away the plummeting temperatures for most of the night, but it couldn’t keep up with my lack of movement. Still, I’d slept well, grateful for the small comforts that’d made the past few nights bearable. I pushed up to a seat, smoothing my hair as I watched the men roll up their supplies and stuff them into their saddlebags. Harthon was nowhere to be seen.
I stumbled to the small stream that abutted our site, splashing water on my face, braiding my hair, and taking care of my needs in private. By the time I returned, Harthon was tending to his horse, his men were ready to ride, and the fire was smothered in dirt.
I’d been gone all of ten minutes. They certainly moved quickly in the morning.
“Sleep well?” Harthon asked when I approached, his voice somewhat rough. As if he was warm, his cloak was missing, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his arms strained against the sleeves of his tunic as he fastened the saddle.
I cleared my throat, averting my eyes. “Yes.” I twisted to look for my mat and blanket, but they were already gone.
“I took care of it,” Harthon informed me.
I didn’t need someone to pick up after me. “I was going to do it.”
“Well, it’s already done. Consider it a favor.”
Favors were a burden, because you always owed one in return. “I don’t like favors.”
“Too bad. I do.” He nodded toward the saddle, an obvious cue for me to mount.
“I’m not paying it back,” I warned him, pulling myself up.
He jumped up behind me. “That’s not very nice.”
“Well I’m not very nice.” Now I sounded like a petulant child. Oh well.
“Yes, you are. You just value your independence,” he observed, and skies, if he hadn’t just nailed the truth, at least on his second point. He guided our horse around and began our second day of travel. “I know you intended to roll up your mat. I know you can handle it on your own. It was a favor.”
“Do you like it when people do favors for you?”
