I put a hand on one of his shoulders, holding him firmly. “She is.”
A moment of quiet, then the subtle pulse of electric energy tingled in my hand and shot up my arm. It was not his intention to cause pain, for if that was his goal , he could have done so easily. It was more a reminder of his abilities, a warning response to the firmness of my grip.
As quick as the sensation came, it ebbed. “You do not need to try and intimidate me.” Calix kept his eyes forward. “I will protect her.”
I firmed my jaw. The boy’s short curls remained unmoving in the breeze, and he wet his lips briefly before looking up at me. The depth in his cobalt eyes stood so starkly out of place amid his youthful features.
“Why?” I asked, choosing to speak to him with the regard I would show a grown man, despite his age. As I’d told Evera, boys like him and I did not have the opportunity to be children.
Calix turned his gaze back to Evera atop the mare, a steady way ahead. “Because she is good.”
The response took me by surprise. Calix’s loyalty to me, I knew, would be one of self-preservation. He needed my blood to maintain his composure and keep control over his magic for any prolonged period. This was fortunate, as such commitment could not easily be out-bought, for what would an orphan boy tossed out by his family value more than his own life?
“How do I make her go faster?” Evera’s call drew my gaze and my thoughts back to her.
“You do not,” I said, jogging to join her.
Calix muffled a chuckle, and again I found myself puzzled by the boy. There was a very human side to him I’d not expected.The concept compelled me to reconsider my beliefs, and made me question my understanding of his kind.
“Do you not think I am capable?” Evera asked as I reached her side. Gone was the beaming smile, replaced with a faint pout of her lips.
I would not lie to her. Even if she resented me for it, I would not risk her safety. “It took me many lessons before I learned to trot.”
Evera’s face sank. “Oh.”
I sighed. It was so easy to discourage her. “Where is our last delivery?” I asked, trying to distract her from her disappointment.
She gestured with a tilt of her chin. The road we followed paralleled a short cliff that came no higher than Sorrel’s withers. Still, the bank was steep, its edge crumbling away in a mess of stone and clumped earth.
Ahead, a ramp sloped up steeply, leading to the elevated farmland. I reached for the reins instinctually to guide the mare.
“Neirin,” Evera said, her tone a sharp warning.
“Yes?”
“You don’t need to hold on to me.” Her brows creased, and at that moment, I empathized with her brother. The woman was headstrong. And while her fire was intoxicating, it was equally frustrating. And worrisome.
“Neirin is overprotective of you because of what you are to him,” Calix said, skirting past us and taking the ramp at a quickened pace. His boots, substantially nicer than my own, made a tapping sound as he hopped atop a stone beside the path and looked down at us, that childlike aspect of him showing itself again.
“Would you let Calix take the ramp alone?” Evera posed her question to me.
“I would,” I admitted. I had no idea if the boy knew how to ride, but the concept of him falling from the mare’s back and tumbling down the short hillside gave me little concern. If he wanted to be spoken to as a man, he would be treated as one—equally. “I do not care if he falls.”
“Neirin.” My name on Evera’s tongue was lecturing, and a bit astonished. “He is a child.”
Calix snorted in amusement but sobered when I shot him a glare. He took a seat atop the large rock.
“He is hardly a normal child,” I said, but that was a conversation for another time. I suspected Evera knew there was more to Calix than I’d let on, but she’d yet to press. Still, she had handled well enough learning what I was. She could take the knowledge of Calix’s affliction, I was sure. I would tell her later.
Sighing, Evera cast her gaze to the side, irritation and disappointment evident in her posture.
I set my jaw. “Fine.” I dropped my hand from her back and stepped to the side as we reached the ramp, even as I knew it was a poor decision to relent. “Lean forward a bit. Otherwise, you’ll fall. She’s going to change her gait.”
But it was too late. Evera was already coaxing the mare up the wood panels. Sorrel’s flanks quivered, and she took the slope quickly, as I knew she would. Horses were daft, predictable things. As all animals were. Evera leaned forward, though too late for effectiveness. She jolted forward, off balance, and grasped for a hold around the mare’s neck.
I rushed to her side and took Sorrel’s harness at the top of the slope. I absentmindedly stroked the mare’s flank to soothe her. Calix, to my relief, remained silent. Damn the two for their consorting.
I narrowed my eyes at my foolish mate, her head sideways and her cheek pressed to Sorrel’s mane.
