Roane curses, recovering. “Druna, you shouldn’t have taken her up there.”
“How was I supposed to know that she wouldn’t be quick enough to evade the attack?” Ardruna retorts.
“So it’s my fault,” I whisper. I’m a liability, like Roane had said. Unable to protect myself. Not quick enough.
“She’s not used to our world, Druna,” Roane says quietly. “You know better than that.”
The lioness rumbles and turns away. “You’re one to talk. If I’m not needed here, I have other business to attend to. Your hunt was interrupted. I’ll grab us something.”
“Druna…” Roane rubs a filthy hand over his face and breathes out, a shaky sound. “Damn.”
For the first time, I realize he looks tired, too. His leathers are worn, holed in places, dark with grime. His boots are in a similar state, and his long hair is matted.
Nobody has looked after him in a long time, I think, and shy away from the sad thought the moment it forms.
He’s a warrior librarian. He chose this life. He doesn’t need anyone taking care of him as if he were a child.
And in any case, what comfort could I offer him? I’m just a bookish human thief that he doesn’t want around.
Ardruna runs away, leaving me alone with Roane, and I’m sorry about their spat over me, but I’m distracted because it’s the first time that I’m completely alone with him.
However, he doesn’t linger. Turning, he motions for me to follow him. “It’s getting dark. We should make our way back to the library.”
“I’m parched. Aren’t we near the river? I can hear water running.”
“Riding a firebird sort of dries you out,” he unexpectedly agrees. “The river is right ahead. It’s a small detour.”
I follow him, the book pressing against my breasts inside my bodice, the griffin egg in my arms. I hadn’t counted on him being so understanding. But truth be told, he has been kind tome. If not for the fact that he wants me gone from here and the occasional insult, we’re practically best friends.
Funny, Aline. Very funny.
“How did you tame the phoenix?” I ask, out of breath as we cross small streams and cross blooming meadows.
“It’s a long story.”
“I love long stories.”
He slows down, letting me catch up, only to arch a dark brow at me. “Are you being sarcastic?”
“No. It’s the truth. Why invest my time and affections in a world and people who won’t be around for long?”
“People? You mean characters.”
“Same thing.”
He stops. The look he gives me is long, dark, and inscrutable. “You really mean that.”
“Haven’t you figured that out about me yet?” I laugh softly. “I live for stories. I wish I could disappear inside one.”
A feverish gleam enters his eyes, and his cheekbones flush. “You wouldn’t rather live in the real world?”
“The real world… is fine,” I say with a shrug. “Not perfect, for sure, but good enough. My family is poor but loving. I only meant… I like disappearing inside books once in a while.”
“Ah.” The word is almost a sigh. He opens his stride again. “I see.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
