I’d figured as much when he returned with my horse, and I see that same sadness all over him now. Much as I wanted to blame him and the Frost King for everything, the tragedy we experienced in the vale lies in the hands of one man.
A man I pray is dead.
We’re silent for a long time, until my eyes are so tired I can’t hold them open any longer. I want to sleep so I can stop thinking, but it’s too cold, the ground too hard and bumpy with roots.
Alexus strides to where the horses are tied. He’s a mountain of a man, yet he moves like a shadow, and just as quiet. I watch as he unbuckles the gambeson from Tuck’s back, along with the blanket from Littledenn, and spreads the quilted armor on the ground near a fallen tree. He sits, leaning against the log, the blanket ready to spread over his long legs.
He flicks his thumb toward the empty space beside him. “If you can stow away your dislike of me for a short while, we might both get somerest. The Eastlanders are far ahead of us, probably inside the construct already, but I’ll still keep an eye out if it makes you feel better.” There’s a pause, then he clears his throat. “And I will be ever honorable, in case that’s a worry.”
My cheeks heat. The thought of Alexus Thibault being anything less than a gentleman wasn’t a worry, and I suppose that says a lot about him, especially since I’ve only known him for a matter of days. Such confidence is more than I would’ve ever granted him a handful of sunrises ago. Still. Of all the events I could’ve imagined happening,sleeping beside the Collectorwas never one of them.
I’m bone-tired, though, and a crow caws, then the leaves in that damned tree rustle once more. In the next breath, I’m half an arm’s length away from the Witch Collector, and thankful for the giant who owned such a blessedly enormous gambeson.
Alexus spreads the blanket over us, tugging it up to my shoulders. Though it doesn’t stave off the cold completely, it’s enough.
Eyelids heavy, I drift, watching the fire’s flames dance between slow blinks. When I finally succumb and close my eyes, a face appears in my mind. It’s distant and dim, but eerily real.
The prince looms there, a bloody nightmare, watching me.
And, from the abyss of sleep, he smiles.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is about Raina Bloodgood that makes her so impossible to ignore. She’s beautiful, yes. But she’s also a hellion who almost let me die and might be trying to drive me mad.
And Iwantto ignore her, godsdamn it. I want to pretend I haven’t studied the dark, feathery line of her eyelashes while she sleeps, or memorized the curve of her plush lips, or marveled at how delicate her skin seems under the firelight, remembering how soft it felt beneath every brief touch.
Yet here I am, still staring at her in the pre-dawn light, feeling as if I’ve been inside this moment before, lying next to her in a forest, all while admiring her body curled beside mine. It’s a feeling I can’t shake.
One that’s beginning to unnerve me.
I get up and make our morning meal of apple slices, black walnuts, and bread, spreading the food on a piece of linen I found in the leather satchel from Littledenn. I tend to the horses and forage for berries, too, then refill our water skins with stream water I boiled and cooled.
Much as I’d like to let her sleep, we don’t have the luxury of time,so I nudge Raina’s knee with the toe of my boot. Regardless of my efforts not to scare her, she instantly bolts upright and reaches for the dagger lying on the ground at her side, her hand closing tightly around the hilt.
“Easy now.” I raise my hands. “It’s just me. Time to eat and get moving.”
I watch as it takes a few moments for Raina to grasp the reality around her. She blinks up at me, like I’m a figment of her imagination. She soon exhales a long breath and scrubs a hand through her long, dark hair, nodding her understanding.
As I take my place by the dying fire, she rakes her fingers through her locks and weaves them into a neat plait. Then she cleans up in the water I collected from the stream. I warmed a bowlful by the flames earlier so she wouldn’t be forced to wash her face and hands in ice-cold water.
When she joins me to eat, sitting cross-legged, she signs a simple,“Thanks.”
It isn’t much, but at least she’s growing more cordial, and she opened up far more than I expected last night.
I run my tongue over the sore split in my bottom lip. Less feral is good.
“You are most welcome,”I sign in reply, noticing that, for once, her sapphire eyes aren’t glazed with unshed tears.
When wolves howl in the distance, sounding their morning wake-up call, Raina jerks around, searching the forest at our backs. My cloak slips over her shoulder, revealing her blue bodice and heaving chest—and far too many distracting curves.
“Aren’t you glad I found you?” I ask, averting my eyes as I try to focus on my meal. “Thisisthe land of the white wolf.”
I know I’m being a bastard, and I know I need to let it go, but even after our conversation last night and a decent rest, I still bristle when I think about how determined she was to be rid of me, and how careless she was with her own life, all for a vendetta against Colden.
She just glares at me and flicks a vulgar gesture, telling me tofuck off.
I bite back a grin, trying to keep my mouth in its usual stern line, though I can’t tame the corners. It wasn’t necessarily Raina’s defiance that angered me yesterday. I fear I like her fire too damn much. Enough that she’ll burn me if I’m not careful. She isn’t scared toput up a fight, and for some reason, the thought of the two of us battling it out again, like what happened by the stream, only stirs my blood, making me feel things I have no right to feel for this woman. Like she could possibly be the most exciting challenge I’ve faced in my whole life.
And that’s impressive.
