He snorts. “Good luck.”
I scowl and slam the trunk shut, crossing the tent again to sit cross-legged on the bed. I grab my potions pouch from the floor next to my satchel and lay it out on the bed, rifling through until I find a small glass bottle.
“What are you doing now?” Fox asks sharply.
I look over to find him watching me. “Putting some healing potion on my throat.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really, I just thought…I don’t know, I just wanted to be doing something.”
His eyes flash darker, but otherwise his expression doesn’t change. “Don’t. If you heal it I’ll have to do it again.”
Oh. Right.
I sigh, and put the potion back into the satchel, then flop onto my back on the bed. As I stare at the ceiling, Eugene climbs out of my satchel and crawls up the edge of the quilt to climb into my lap. I pet his head absently, but I don’t say anything as I feel strange talking to the squirrel when Fox is right there, listening.
I’m starving by the time Fox announces we need to go to dinner, and despite my nervousness I’m more than ready to go.
I reach for my red cloak, but Fox stops me. “Leave it.”
“Why?”
He taps his own neck with two fingers and my eyes widen. Oh. He wants to make sure everyone can see the bite. I supposed that makes sense, but my stomach still turns over.
Fox finally stands up from the chair, where he’s been sitting all afternoon, and strides toward the tent. He reaches out to push the flap open, then pauses, as if suddenly remembering something. He swears under his breath.
“What?” I ask, nervously.
He glances back at me, eyes shifting back and forth. “Is the…thing you did still up?”
“The muffling?—”
He clears his throat, cutting me off with a look. “Is it?”
“Yes,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He looks caught between relief and frustration. “You can’t keep doing that.”
“First of all, I don’t know how anyone would know.”
“Magic has a smell,” he says flatly. “They’ll notice,”
I raise my eyebrows. “What?”
“It’s kind of metallic. Like blood.”
“Well, since this is a war camp don’t you think?—”
“Just don’t.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, but I don’t know what the problem is. Surely we would talk to each other sometimes, they can’t possibly find that suspicious.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, looking suddenly exhausted. “That’s what I forgot to tell you. If we were really mates, you could hear me in your head.”
I blanch. “Well then…don’t they already know we’re lying? I can’t hear any of them.”
“Not them, just me. We shouldn’t need to talk at all, so if we are…”
