“Don’t be an asshole.” My gaze tore away first, my version of truce.
For now.
The walk back to camp was...awkward.
Ronan’s stride never faltered, his glare always fixed straight ahead. Even when the rain eased and sunlight broke through the clouds, he didn’t so much as glance my way. But his shoulders had loosened, his steps had steadied.
Like the bit of warmth grounded him.
And still, the air between us stayed tight, fraying at the edges.
Maybe I’d misread everything and Gus’s death was nothing but a cruel twist of chance. But my bones were imprinted to expect betrayal. To believe anyone who knew what I was would, sooner or later, try to kill me.
What made Ronan any different?
My eyes traced his form, the smoke following close behind. The way the sun hit his hair, showing the warm undertone. Like embers hidden under ash.
“Are you just going to ignore me now?”
His voice dragged. “You tried to stab me.Again.”
I threw my hands up in annoyance. “Okay, fine. Sorry I got a bad feeling and reacted. You’re not exactly an open book, Ronan.”
He stopped so abruptly I nearly collided with him. “Say it again.”
My brows furrowed. “Say what again?”
His gaze cut to me, heated in a way that left no room for levity as they cut from my eyes to mouth. “My name.”
Just to watch his reaction, I did. “Ronan.”
The syllables left me softer than intended, slipping into the air between us. Something flickered in his face then, hewn deeper than his rage had. As if the sound scalded him. Or, melted through him where he was already raw.
His chest rose, but he said nothing. Only turned back to the trail as though no words had passed through him at all.
Leaving me to wonder which truth was more dangerous. That he hated the way I said his name, or that he craved it.
“Why—”
A curtain of smoke slid between us like a barrier. “Let’s continue in silence.”
Don’t stab him. Don’t stab him.
My jaw dropped as I feigned offense. But he just kept walking. I rolled my eyes, rushing to catch up. “Why are you always so grumpy?”
He didn’t look at me, but his smoke thinned, enough to see the tic in his jaw. “I am notgrumpy.”
“Mm, I don’t know,” I said, plucking a leaf off a tree and pretending to study its points. “You’re so offended I’ve tried to kill you, like I’m the first one who has. Seems kind of cranky to me.”
His barrier shifted completely at that, curling off his hand like it wanted to answer for him. His eyes shot to mine, hurricane green and burying something beneath the unyielding exterior.
“You’re the first one who’s tried to kill me who I haven’t been able to kill back,” he eventually said. “It is not crankiness that burns, it's irritation. And I will be happy to be rid of you when the time finally comes.”
Those words struck, a tiny sting in the ribs, but I didn’t let it show. Didn’t let him see how easily he could bruise me if I let him.
My hands clapped together and I lifted them beneath my chin, lashes fluttering as if I hadn’t felt the blow. “I said I was sorry,” I sang. Too sweet, too careless.
He only muttered something to the gods about sparing him from this torture.
