“And useful, too. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I can access the path now.” At least there was that.
“I did hear, and it’s about time, Fish Eyes.” He poked my shin with the toe of his boot, lips pulled downward. “Get some sleep. You kind of look like shit.”
I didn’t doubt it. While I’d washed off the mud after the battle and Stefano had provided me with new clothes, I had yet to bathe away the events of the past few days.
I ran my hands over my matted hair as Callen disappeared into the camp, fingers catching in the tangles left from Harthon’s handiwork with the mud. I’d already spent hours trying to tear them apart with my nails to no avail. By now, there was no saving them.
Tomorrow, I would ride through Harthon’s city center, pretending to be the all-powerfulmagvis.Dignified. Chin held high. After the mess I’d just created, I couldn’t afford moremissteps. I needed to appear strong, and this hair was that of a haggard victim.
I ate a meal of tasteless meat and flatbread beside Stefano before telling him I needed to relieve myself. It was the only time he allowed me privacy, as he continued to stick to me like a shadow, despite there being no threat to me here.
In the battle, he’d protected me. Now, he guarded a prisoner.
Skirting the edges of the sprawling camp, I delved into the brush, finding a hollow that hid me from view. Freeing the dagger from my waist—the one I’d stuck into that soldier’s neck—I gripped a clump of hair. The first knot I found was at ear level. Bringing the blade to the strands, I hesitated.
My hair was nothing special, but I’d never worn it short. To chop it now would be to cut away a familiarity. Something I didn’t have much of these days.
But it was just hair. And it was currently ruining the image I needed to portray.
My grip tensed.
“Your angle is wrong.”
Jolting, I pivoted, dagger tip pointed at that derisive voice.
My eyes tripped over a broad, leather-covered chest past a square, stubbled jaw to an unreadable face. Recognizing Harthon, I didn’t lower the weapon.
He acknowledged the blade with apathy. “Still the wrong angle.”
“We both know angles make no difference when a weapon is pointed at you.”
“Then why are you still wielding it?” Every sardonic note of his voice frayed the edges of my sanity.
He was right. WhywasI still wielding it?
Riding pure, reckless impulse, I cocked my arm and threw the knife, aiming straight for his heart. He easily shifted to theside, the movement casual, and the blade sailed ineffectually past him, disappearing into the woods.
He faced me slowly, a muscle in his jaw snapping. “Don’t release your only weapon unless you know it’ll give you an advantage,” he said, voice deceptively soft. Then he moved, eating the space between us with the power and lethality of that massive animal Callen compared him to.
I stood my ground, even as my feet vibrated with the need to flee.
I’d just thrown a dagger at a bear. A bear who already might want to maul me to death. I’d done the complete opposite of giving myself an advantage.
His hand snaked out, and I flinched. That massive paw halted mid-air, inches from my face. For an instant, it looked like he might say something, but then he finished his motion, his palm making contact with—
My hair.
His fingers scooped a clump of the tangled strands and lifted them. I didn’t move, his dangerous hands too close to my face for comfort as he palmed another section and studied it.
He grunted. “If you’re going to cut it, you need to sliceawayfrom your face. At your angle, you would have cut your cheek.”
He was probably right, but I wasn’t about to thank him for the advice. His actions were what caused my hair to be like this.
“It wouldn’t kill me, so I’m not sure why it concerns you.”
My hair still draped across his hand, he regarded me with an unreadable expression. “It wouldn’t be good for you to appear injured as we return to the city center. That would look far too human for themagvis.”
His impassivity pricked at something within me. The fact that it did showed some small, naïve part of me hadn’t received the whole “he hates you” message—still thought he might care for me beyond my use to him.
