“All the time.”
He huffs. It’s almost a laugh. “Right.”
“Do you ride on your phoenix for the fun of it? Chase flocks of birds?”
A small, choked-up sound escapes him. “That would be stupid.”
“But did you use to, long ago? Did you use to have fun?”
“I… suppose I may have done. I don’t remember.”
“That’s sad,” I whisper.
He falls quiet and I curse myself for causing him to clam up again. By now, we’re at the entrance of the ruin, a small portico upheld by slender pillars. We step inside and looking up, I see it has a roof, at least, and the walls are standing.
Thank the Gods for small mercies.
I’m still holding the bundle of my dress with the book wrapped up in its folds, and I place it down before taking a look around.
“Stay here,” he says, “let me check out the place. We don’t want any bad surprises.”
“Where is the egg?”
“Relax. I have it.” He wanders into the dark space, almost vanishing—but not quite, because like before, he seems to glow faintly.
I take two steps toward him. “Roane?”
“Stay there. Stay?—”
A screech and something wraps around my middle, dragging me to the side. I scream, batting at it.
“Shush, it’s me,” Roane says in my ear, startling me even worse. “Stop moving.”
Then he proceeds to shove me against a wall and I hear the scimitars sing as he frees them from their scabbards.
What’s in here? What kind of monster was inhabiting this old place until we arrived?
I catch a glimpse of it as he chases it, yelling and clanking his scimitars together. Some sort of… pig? Or wild hog. It grunts and snuffles as Roane clanks his blades again, its pale tusks gleaming in the faint glow coming from him.
Then it turns away and leaves through the open door. Or lack thereof.
“No door.” I push off the wall, wincing. Yet more bruises have added themselves to my collection. “A tiny oversight. I mean, it’s not like this world is full of monsters or anything.”
“Therewasa door. The last time I was here.” He huffs, sheathing his scimitars. “Not anymore.”
“Obviously.” I wander toward him. It’s that glow, I tell myself, that’s what’s drawing me to him like a moth. Not the way he keeps protecting me, not the memory of the way he called my name in fear and held me as if he wanted to mesh our bodies together.
He’s always glaring at me. Dismissing me. And doesn’t really want me around.
I need to remember all this or else I might touch him, press my body to his again. That would be embarrassing.
“I’ll block the entrance,” he grunts and exits the cabin. Temple. Whatever this is. “Stay.”
“Wait!”
But he’s gone. I glance around uneasily. The boar left but who knows whether anything else might be lurking in the dark? Without Roane, the darkness is complete. What if there are venomous spiders, scorpions, or snakes?
“I don’t like snakes,” Olm says, startling me.
