He doesn’t look away again, but clenches his jaw, obviously weighing his options. The more time I spend with him, the clearer it’s become that the warnings about the deceptive nature of fae don’t apply. With Emlyn, maybe—he’s difficult to read. But Taran? Something’s definitely bothering him.
“Have I done something to upset you?” I ask.
“Why would you think that?”
“It’s just… I want to help, but I’ve never made a fire without incanting.”
He shifts his gaze to Willow and scratches behind her ear.
What’s the issue?He should be glad I’m so motivated. Unless that somehow interferes with how I’m supposed to help him?
“Please?” I say. “I don’t want to rely on that anymore.”
With a heavy sigh, he gives Willow a final pat. “Fine, I’ll show you.” Not the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but maybe he just dislikes teaching. He leads me to a spot that’s clear and fairly level, and I drop my stack of firewood, stretching out my arms. “Reid, you should learn, too,” Taran calls.
He pulls his boots on and joins us as Taran sorts the sticks. I plop down next to the pile and wait, like the excellent student I am.
About half a bell passes, and Reid has started a fire.
I’ve been here the entire time, listening to all the same instructions, but for some reason, Taran only actually helped Reid. I sit back with my arms crossed, my irritation steaming beneath my ears.
Reid warms his hands by the fire with a smug look on his face. “I’m sure you’ll light the next one.”
Taran sits on his other side, silently watching the flames as the flickering light dances across the shadows of his face. In a blink, he perks up, glancing toward the trees.
A few seconds later, Emlyn emerges, holding a couple of hare carcasses. “I got lucky, found two of them.” He sits down next to Taran. “And you’ve already got a fire going. Perfect!”
“Reid did it,” I grumble.
Emlyn’s eyes widen. “Learning to start fires the normal way? I was hoping to teach you myself.” He smacks Taran’s shoulder playfully. “How dare you rob me of that.”
“Just give me those.” Taran takes the hares from Emlyn, then goes over to his pack, probably to get whatever he needs to skin them.
A shudder runs down my spine, and I quickly focus my attention on the others. The sight of blood has always turned my stomach.
Emlyn scoots closer to Reid, questioning him about the technique Taran showed us, so Reid grabs a couple of sticks to show off. Emlyn inches even closer, adjusting Reid’s hands to make barely perceptible changes in how he places the sticks, and within seconds they erupt into bickering, resulting in even more small taps and shoves between them.
They just need to kiss already and be done with it.
Dismissing the pang of envy in my chest, I roll my eyes and lie back, taking in the idyllic oranges and purples of the evening sky.
Taran settles down a respectable distance away from me and hangs the meat over the fire. I roll my head in his direction to watch. Something about him… Despite being fae, he puts me at ease, as if I knew him in another life. It’s a little frightening.
The more I think about it, the more my heart twists, as if winding a coil beneath my skin. While I can’t deny some brief moments of connection between us, falling for a fae would only complicate things. I need to stay focused.
“What kind of knife is that?” I ask, noting the small white blade Taran set down next to him. I’ve never seen anything like it. “It looks… brutal.”
I wince at my description, hoping he won’t take offense, but there really isn’t a better word for it. It lacks a uniform shape, with rough serrations down one edge.
“It’s bone.”
My horror must be clear on my face, because he glances in my direction and lights up with a laugh.
“We don’t use metal,” he explains, offering it to me.
I push myself up, sitting closer, and carefully take it. The smooth sides are well polished, its edges quite sharp. “What kind of bone?”
“I believe this one came from a sheep. Though I’ll warn you not to ask about my sword.”
