“Someone suggested they would turn you against me. I started worrying…”
“After two days?” She wrinkled her nose. “You have so little faith in me?”
“Hey, we haven’t known each other long.”
“Long enough to kiss,” she challenged with a whisper. “You think I do that to every guy I’ve known for all of two weeks?”
“I would hope not, but…doubts were large and loud.”
“Seriously?” Leighton scoffed. “Give me more credit!” She hugged herself and then covered her mouth, looking a bit pale. “This is beautiful…and terrifying!”
He studied her. “You’re…scared?”
“A little,” she conceded.
“I’m sorry.”
“No—it’s wonderful, and I want to enjoy it. Fully. I don’t know how long it will last.”
He had no idea how they’d get out of this tangle. “When we go back to Omnia, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
She sobered. “What do you mean?”
“Maaz knows I’m not who I claimed to be and if he tells Faruq…”
“He’ll kill you.”
“I’m worried more about you.”
“Don’t.” She shivered, the higher altitude chillier. “The princesses…” Her caramel eyes came to him, and she shook her head. “I knew they were trying to turn me against you, but…I know their friendship and favor is fake. They don’t care about me.”
He hated that look of disappointment. “Because they’re idiots.”
She sighed, looking gravely on the billowing plain and wildlife scampering far below. “I just want this to be over.” With a groan, she rubbed her forehead. “I was content in my life. Lived with living a lie. Mastered it. I never would’ve broken that vow to protect Ummi. But then they”—she motioned toward the camp that was steadily shrinking—“rip me out of that life. Why? To kill me?” She groaned, scraping both hands over her face. “I’m so tired of this. I just want to be a normal person.”
“Well,” he teased, “that will never happen.”
Her gaze bounced to his, concerned, then she rolled her eyes. “You are adorkable.”
He laughed. “Did you really just say that?”
“Yes.” She seemed petulant, but a smile wiggled through her olive complexion. “You have turned my life upside down, Owen Metcalfe.”
“To be fair,” he said as he settled next to her, forearms resting on the rail of the basket, “they did that. I just…made it a bit messier.”
She reached over and rustled his hair. “Fitting, considering this.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, leaning back to stop her from mussing his hair again. “I’m shaving it.”
Laughing, she shook her head and bumped his shoulder, her expression sobering into something…beautiful, sweet. “I’m really glad you came to rescue me, Owen. Even if it didn’t work.”
RPG to the heart, gutting him. “It’s not over yet.”
She shifted to face him. “We go back tomorrow. And even still, you know they’re going to be furious once we land.”
He groaned. “Yeah…”
“So why did we do this? Why invite me to come up—besides scaring the tar out of me?”
