Aric’s soldiers were well-trained, but Harthon, Joris, and Stefano excelled at stealth and evasion. There was a reason they were so feared as mercenaries before they took over Fourth Territory. While we were forced to move slowly, we were past the guard lines by the time morning came.
It took three long days to cross Sixth. Our pace was stunted by the villages, merchants, and occasional patrols scattered across the land, but our journey was blessedly uneventful.
It was also terribly quiet. None of us spoke beyond what was necessary, because what was there to say? We were well and truly damned.
Even if there were words to say, it was hard to force sound beyond the self-reproach clogging my throat. And when it came to Harthon, well, I was at a loss.
He was shuttered, as cold and bleak as a stone wall. The sacrifices he’d made and extremes he’d taken in pursuit of Centralis had all been for nothing, and that was onlypartof the storm we were now in.
He wasn’t angry with me. I knew this because he still held me for our short stints of sleep, still tucked my hair behind my ear and checked the straps of my saddle before I mounted. He was caring for me, just like before. But he was grieving—his purpose, his plans, his redemption—and I didn’t know how to make it better.
It was torture, seeing him like this, and it became unbearable as we knelt by a small stream on the third day in the woods. Behind us, Stefano and Joris were feeding the horses, offering us our first semblance of privacy since our last night in the Horrads’ tent.
I watched Harthon from the corner of my eye as I filled my flask. He splashed the frigid water on his face, closing his eyes briefly as he slicked it back into his hair. It was the first time I’d seen him look weary, the lines around his eyes deeper than I remembered, indigo smudged beneath. When he rinsed his face again with a quiet sigh, I couldn’t take it anymore.
Some worked through tragedy on their own. They preferred it that way, and did best when others gave them the grace to do so. I’d assumed that was him—but it was clear it wasn’t working.
“There is still so much good you can do for your people,” I said quietly.
His reply was immediate. “It will never be good enough.” He wiped the water from his eyes, turning them on me with resignation. It was the only look he’d worn since we left the Domus.
“Maybe not.” To say otherwise would be a condescending lie. “But it will bebetter,and sometimes, that is all we can ask for.”
His eyes softened, and I knew then I should have broken my silence days ago. As hard and unyielding as he could be, he still needed comfort, whether he knew it or not. I would never delay giving it to him again.
He rinsed his face one last time. Running his hand through his hair, he straightened and came to me, crouching at my back. My fissured heart healed a bit when I felt his fingers tug at my braid.
Without a word, he removed the tie and gently undid the tangled ropes of hair. I hadn’t redone the braid since we left First, and I was certain it showed. His strong fingers carefully combed through the strands, sending pricks of pleasure across my scalp. It reminded me of what he’d done after our battle with Koerlyn. Even then, when he was angry at my betrayal, he’d soothed me with his touch.
“I’ve been so wrapped in my own misery that I haven’t thanked you,carella.” The low rumble came through the haze of bliss.
“Thanked me for what?”
“Taking us there.” He began braiding the hair, knuckles brushing against the back of my neck.
“Do not be grateful to me,” I said bitterly.
“Do not put blame on yourself.”
“Then where does it go?”
My question went unanswered until he finished the braid and tied it off. His palm skated around to my cheek and tilted my head up and back, so I couldn’t avoid his gaze.
“It is on me.” Said with the surety of a stubborn warrior.
“No, it isn’t,” I denied. “And if you insist on putting it there, then I’m bearing its weight with you. You cannot stop me.”
He scoffed, glancing at the stream before dragging his eyes back. “Stubborn,” he murmured. His thumb began to roam. “I do not want you to suffer needlessly.”
“Then you understand how I feel about you.”
“As I said,stubborn.”
“Are you describing yourself?”
He gave a wry smile. His thumb stopped, and his eyes roved over my face. For a fleeting moment, his misery was replaced by something warm. He lowered his head, and his lips met mine in a tender, soft kiss, turning my stiff muscles liquid.
Skies,how I’d missed that. Missed him.
