“Alright.” My chest tightens, hoping I’m making the correct choice. “I’ll trust you.”
* * *
The rest of the day crawls by, with Taran growing more and more agitated as several bells pass without Emlyn arriving. He keeps insisting we’re in the correct location, despite nothing about our campsite or the nearby forest seeming particularly identifiable, claiming Emlyn should’ve found us by now even if something had delayed him. I can only hope that whatever happened, Reid’s safe.
I’ve finally convinced him I’ll stay put while he goes and searches, but hesitation blankets his face as he mounts his horse.
“Don’t make me regret trusting you.” His emerald eyes bore into me, and something flutters uncomfortably in my throat. I swallow it down, my fingers finding their way back to that button.
“I won’t leave. I promise.”
Even if I wanted to, it’s not like I could get very far. He’s leaving a horse I’m unable to ride, and based on last night’s travel, we must be at least a dozen miles from the Academy. My legs almost gave out when I walked to the trees to relieve myself.
Taran’s lips purse as if debating with himself one final time, then he kicks the horse into a gallop, riding south along the tree line.
He’s actually trusting me.
I spend most of the afternoon stretching amid tall blades of itchy grass, massaging my legs, and crystallizing blocks of ice to numb my muscles with—as Taran said, his willbending wore off eventually. More proof that he’s trustworthy, I suppose. He left some food—mostly nuts and berries—but I’m famished by the time he returns, about a bell before sunset.
“I didn’t find him,” he says as he dismounts, and his horse wanders to where the other one stands, munching on grass. “But I got more food.” He holds up the rabbit carcass that was hanging off his saddle.
My stomach turns, but I’m hungry enough to have no objections. I simply volunteer to collect more firewood while he skins and cleans his catch.
Our meal’s hanging over the fire by the time I return, and I sit on the grass next to him, watching the meat cook. Its gamey scent fills my nostrils, sending a sharp hunger pang through my belly.
Despite the pops and cracks of the fire, the silence between us is maddening.
“So, you don’t want war with my people?” I ask, hoping to find some common ground. If we both want peace, that’s a good place to start.
Taran looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “No. The Land already punished your people, and the wars cost countless lives. And if we had let you be, the Second Betrayal would likely have never occurred.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Pretend I don’t understand most of what you just said.”
Taran exhales, then leans forward to pull the cooked meat from the fire with his knife. But I swear his mouth curls with a hint of a smile.
He sits back down. “You wouldn’t, I suppose.” He tears the meat with the jagged blade and hands some to me. “I’m sure mortals teach history quite differently than we do.”
That doesn’t automatically make your version better.
But picking a fight won’t help anything, so I swallow my response. Feeling horribly uncivilized, I rip at the meat with my teeth. It’s tough, but tasty, and its juices drip down my chin, making me instantly aware of how messy I am—two days since my last bath, sleeping in the dirt. I attempt to wipe my mouth on my shoulder, as if scratching an itch, and take a whiff of myself. I stink of smoke.
Meanwhile, Taran looks… Well, flawless is an understatement. The setting sun reflects off his sleek, midnight hair, perfectly windswept from his ride. His smooth skin practically glows, with not a single sign of stubble. My eyes trace his jawline, down his neck, to his clothes. While patches of dirt and sweat cover mine, his are pristine in comparison.
“How are you so clean?” I ask. There must be some kind of secret to it.
Taran coughs, choking on his food. “What?”
“Is it a fae thing?” I lean closer, inspecting him. His face reddens, and he avoids my eyes. “I’m a mess, but you—”
He presses his fingers against my lips, shushing me. The flustered expression that briefly transformed his features disappears as he tenses, looking westward.
“Horses are approaching.”
I move his hand away from my mouth, the cold air kissing my lips as his warmth disappears. There’s only silence.
“How can you tell?”
“I can sense them.”
