I hesitate, the truth clawing at my throat. “You don’t trust me,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them, knowing they’ll only push him farther away.
Raven’s head snaps toward me, his eyes narrowing. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” I press, my voice rising despite myself. “You keep me in the dark, you give me half-truths, and then you expect me to follow orders without question. How is that trust?”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to snap back. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about trust, El. It’s about keeping you safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“From everything,” he whispers, his voice heavy with something I can’t quite place. Regret, maybe. Or guilt. “From the things you don’t want to know.”
I fix my stare back on the covered crate, flinching as it jolts over ashallow hole in the road, the sound of chinking metal coming from within. “I’m so sick of being left in the dark, Raven.”
“I’m sorry.” The words are strained, a mix of resignation and sincerity filling them.
“But there’s nothing you can do about it.”
His silence is answer enough.
By the time night fell,I could scarcely hold myself upright. My eyelids were drooping, and I had to slap my cheeks to keep them open. It wasn’t just our Flight that was exhausted. Our horses were strained, their breaths coming in heavy pants and perspiration dotting their necks.
Fortunately, with no sign of pursuit and none of the soldiers who had attacked us getting away, Raven thought it was safe enough to get a few hours’ rest. We set up a makeshift camp just beyond the tree line of the forest, hidden behind the low-hanging branches.
Despite my sheer exhaustion, sleep evades me.
Or rather,I evade it.
Every time I close my eyes, unwanted memories rush to the surface. They cling to my conscience like a festering wound, seeping poison into my veins. Sleep has always felt like my enemy. But now it is a tormentor that grants no respite, no solace from the things that haunt me. It’s as though the depths of my mind have become a labyrinth of darkness and despair, not unlike the maze in the mountain that lies beneath the Palace of Eretria.
The sting of leaving the somniseed behind is undeniable, though the choice was never mine to make. Still, it could have offered a small measure of relief. Every night has been the same. I give in to the pull of sleep, but as soon as it drags me under, I find myself on yet another journey through the twisted corridors of my subconscious.
The bitterness of bile in my mouth.
A blade slicing deep.
Echoing screams.
Honey-brown eyes brightening to the color of freshly spilled blood.
Fear grips me, its icy tendrils coiling around my heart, squeezing the breath from my lungs. My vision blurs, and I kick the tangle of blankets from my body, digging my nails into my palms until they break the skin.
The cold night air and bite of pain manage to ground me, drawing a line between memory and reality. I force myself to breathe, and after a few painful moments, a steady rhythm returns as the panic bleeds from my body and mind.
The sound of my sleeping Flight presses in around me while I stare sightlessly up at the leafy canopy. Restlessness itches its way through my limbs, and my scattered thoughts chase each other until I finally relent, slipping out from my place amid the slumbering bodies.
The cold eats its way into my skin, spreading goosebumps in its path as I put further distance between myself and the circle of body heat the others provided.
My gaze drifts toward the wagon and the shrouded crate atop it. Myna leans against a nearby tree, looking out toward the road.
I should be relieved to see her alert and keeping watch, but frustration fills me. The incessant restlessness tugs at my being again, like silk sliding beneath my skin, tiny sparks of energy making me shiver. It tries to pull me forward—but Myna is standing in my way.
My steps are light as I stalk deeper into the forest, taking extra care not to step on the dried leaves littering the forest floor as I skirt around the campsite. When I reach the road, I kneel and pick up a small rock. Standing, I throw it as far as I can into the distance and then slink back to the shadow of the trees.
Myna pulls out two daggers and prowls toward the sound. When she’s far enough away, I dart from the shadows, crouching by the wagon. As I work on the ties, a metallic sound comes from inside, and I freeze, waiting for the moment I’m caught out.
For Myna to return and catch me in the act, or for Raven to appear behind me.
Time stretches out, the moment dragging by.
