“Trailfinder,” I said. “It's what I do.”
He smiled at that. A small, genuine one that briefly softened his face. “Aye, I guess we have. Long time.”
“And Nicco?”
The smile faded slightly. He wasn’t uncomfortable with the question; he was contemplating it, weighing how much to give me. “Long enough.”
“He's not from Crystallese.”
“No.”
“Neither are you.”
“No.”
“Larana said she’s from Cinderia.” He didn’t react, just watched me patiently. It was slightly unnerving. I looked at the fire. “What are you doing this far north?”
Baxley set the stick he had been using as a poker down and looked at me properly for the first time in the conversation. His eyes were steady, not unkind, and completely unreadable. “Same as you,” he said. “Following the gold.”
Then he stood, and the conversation ended in the usual way when the person walking away was too large and too confident to be called back.
I sat by the fire, watching the flames and thinking about what I knew — almost nothing — and what I suspected — quite a lot — and what I was going to do about the gap between them.
And the most important question of all, how would it affect me?
Across the camp, Larana sat apart from the soldiers, sharpening her blade with the focused patience I was beginningto recognize as her version of silence. She looked up once, directly at me, not as someone who had just noticed me. Instead, it was as if she had been aware of me the whole time.
I didn't look away. That felt somehow important, not being the first to look away. She looked back down at her blade, expressionless. She didn't acknowledge it, but she didn't seem bothered by it either. Which, I was beginning to understand, was the closest thing to progress I was likely to get with Larana.
That and stories about scantily clad women.
But I still felt they were hiding something from me, and I didn’t like it.
Not because I thought they intentionally meant me harm, but because unknowns in Crystallese on a trail could get you killed. And I spent far too much time and energy on staying alive.
I heard the captain tell the others the watch schedule, with very brief shifts, barely long enough to feel the cold settle in, and no more than a short rest for those sleeping. I waited to be called on since we had an odd number, and it made sense for me to contribute.
I wasn’t.
I was also fed up with the exclusion.
“I’ve been keeping watch in this kingdom longer than most of you have worn gold breastplates.” My voice was low and steady, and I knew they heard me. I kept my gaze on the flames. “I also know what to look for in the night. What snow means a deathstorm. What animal footprints mean fresh food nearby or a psychotic monster.” I looked up, and my eyes met the captain’s. “And somehow, I’m the one you want to sleep through the night.”
Captain Marson swallowed. “I guess you have a point?—”
“You’re also the one who sneaks out of inns and knows how to vanish in a land of ice.” Nicco’s voice was cool as he spoke, hisattention fixed on the horizon, or what he could see beyond the firelight.
“That was one time.” Hating the sound of protest on my lips.
He turned his head, with his hood pulled low, and his face wrappings not clear of his chin. He looked foreboding in the flickering light of the campfire. “The watch is to protect the camp from threats outsideandin.”
I held his stare, anger welling within me. “I am not a threat.”
He smirked and turned away. “I’m not yet convinced.”
Silence settled, and it was not only awkward but deafening. I looked around, and anyone who met my gaze quickly looked away, except Baxley. He smiled at me and winked. I glared at him, and he grinned even wider.
I watched him get to his feet, slide his hood off, and push his messy, short dark hair back.
