“Aline.” Olm had been quiet since I threw his book at the goblin, but now he rouses himself. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” I dismiss the fire in my side where the goblin got me and the way my vision seems to be narrowing. “I’m not dead, am I? Not bleeding out, either. In my expert opinion, I’ll be fine once I can rest and eat.”
“Tell them.”
My breathing echoes in my ears. Olm’s voice helps keep me awake. “I will. I just need to… catch up with them.”
“Stop. Stop and they’ll let you rest.”
“You just don’t want me to reach the library because I’ll leave you there.”
“You think me this petty?” he asks.
“Yes. Well, not necessarily petty…” Black spots swim in my eyes. I blink furiously to clear them. “Only afraid.”
“I know no fear.”
“Sure, Olm. Keep telling yourself that.” My dress is stuck to my back with sweat. It’s running down my face, despite the cold, stinging my eyes. Ahead, Roane is striding up the road as if he could do this all day, and my knees keep folding.
“Aline.” Olm sounds frantic. “Tell them to stop.”
“No. I’m already a burden. I can’t fight…”
“You only came here to leave a book! You never pretended to be a warrior.”
He’s right. And every step feels heavier. My legs tremble. My knees buckle.
“Roane!” I call out. “I… have to stop, I…”
I stumble as he turns, and I think I see his eyes widening in alarm as I go down.
He’s inhumanly fast, racing back toward me and catching me as my knees hit the paved road. He sweeps me into his arms. “What’s wrong?”
My head lolls against his chest. “Roane…”
“Human, I asked if anything was wrong.”
“Aline,” I whisper. The strength in his arms grounds me, reassures me. I want to lift my lashes but they’re as heavy as my legs. Heavy as lead.
“Aline?”
“My name is Adeline. Aline, for short,” I mumble. “I’m okay, just hungry and above all really thirsty?—”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
I finally manage to blink through the encroaching darkness up at his face, the dark scowl, the dark strands clinging to his temples and neck. The scar on his cheek. The lines of a mark on his neck, peeking from under his long hair. I want to ask him about it, about the marks and scars, because they remind me of my own little mark, but speaking feels like too much effort.
“Let’s find a safer place to stop.” He’s carrying me as if I weigh nothing, striding away once more. “Before something else decides to take a bite out of us.”
Being carried in his arms feels like I’m flying high above the ground. I’m dizzy, my side still burns, and everything has a dream-like quality.
Where is he taking me? The book is resting on my middle, and I don’t remember putting it there. My cheek is pressed to Roane’s chest, against his warm leathers.
Olm is quiet.
The raven flies over us, uphill, the lioness loping in its wake, leaving us to follow.
It’s only when Roane stops, turning to glance down, that I realize we’ve been going up a staircase, the steps wide and worn.I roll my head to look. The city sprawls below, including the avenue where we fought the goblins and the side streets cutting around dilapidated mansions and crumbling low houses. Trees grow through the ruins and hedges overflow onto the cobbles.
