Thankfully, they had Sebastian with them. “We would be much appreciative of a place to rest and get clean from the road. Just for the night—we won’t overstay our welcome.”
Sunil nodded. “Then it’s done.” He waved to a guard who slipped silently out of the tent. “I will also arrange an escort to accompany you to the Vathan border. They will keep you from encountering any more trouble with other rangers or tribes.”
“Thank you, Sunil.” Delaynie smiled, a trace of her hidden warmth slipping back into her features.
Quentin dragged his stare from her face, landing on the pile of weapons still on the floor by Sunil’s feet. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he lifted his gaze, catching the captain’s attention, and raised a brow.
Sunil chuckled. “All right, Armature. You can have your weapons back.” Quentin nearly lunged for the pile, running hishands over his worn leather baldric. He slipped it back over his chest as Sebastian collected his sword at a more leisurely pace.
“Perhaps there are things the tribes of the marshes can teach you,” Sunil said, amusement in his voice. “Once your journey is over and your queen has what she needs, maybe you can return so we can share the knowledge wedohave.”
“That’s very generous,” Sebastian said, nodding respectfully. Quentin only grumbled.
Sure, he wanted to learn how they moved so silently over the soft, wet ground. He’d thought he was good at blending in, but after the incident in Desva, and now this…
“Maybe,” Quentin finally said, so soft his voice was almost inaudible.
Chapter 31
Mariah stared at the dying embers of the campfire, the night breeze catching her damp hair.
It had been a long day of travel, the terrain rocky and rugged but also splendid. The Leuxrithian countryside was wild and untamed. They were surrounded by the picturesque Everheim Mountains, flowers blooming on the sloping ridges. Crisp air brushed through the ancient, towering pines, the babbling brook beside the overgrown road a constant companion.
It was in that brook that Mariah had quickly bathed while the rest set up camp, rinsing the grime of travel from her skin. The water was cold but clear, rejuvenating as it washed over her. It was also their guide; Signe had shared that all bodies of water in this part of Leuxrith originated from a lake near Eyarfell. Follow the brook, and they would reach the capital.
Mariah ran her fingers through the clean strands of her drying hair. It was still shorter than she liked but growing quickly after the months of good nutrition and exercise. It now fell past her chest; it wouldn’t be long before it reached her mid-back.
She was grateful for that one small piece of normalcy, even as everything around her continued to change.
The last few embers of the fire dropped into a muted glow. Her mouth fell open in a yawn. The small clearing where they’d made their camp was mostly empty now. Signe and Matheo had retreated to their respective tents, and only Callamus still sat under the stars, gazing up with a soft expression as he twisted a cloud of indigo magic around his wrists.
Mariah swallowed. Andrian wasn’t there, but she wasn’t entirely sure where he’d gone, either.
Having him back restored a piece of herself, but there was something still off. He was physically here, his scent and magic and presence as real as the trees around them. Yet he’d been quiet and standoffish as they’d traveled, not saying much even as his shadows coiled loosely down his arms.
That, on its own, wasn’t particularly unusual; being grumpy and aloof were some of Andrian’s defining qualities. Something about it now felt different, though, like he hadn’t yet decided if this was real.
At least he’d stayed close to her, always walking at Kodie or Mariah’s side. He’d glanced at her a few times, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.
Mariah let out a heavy sigh and pushed to her feet. She supposed she needed to find him—they all needed rest, even him.
“Is Andrian taking watch?” she asked Callamus. The god’s gaze dropped from the sky, landing on her as he shook his head.
“I will take watch tonight.” He gestured to Mariah’s tent, and for the first time she noticed the soft flickering glow emanating from within it. Callamus smiled faintly. “He needs you.”
Mariah hesitated, glancing between the god and the tent. Something strange wound through her chest, an unusual, unfamiliar feeling.
Nervousness? Why was she nervous? This was Andrian. After everything they’d endured over the past months, there was nothing that could come between them.
But she couldn’t shake the memory of that pained look in his eyes when she’d kissed him.
Steeling her spine, Mariah gave Callamus a soft “good night” and slipped into her tent.
Andrian sat on one of the bedrolls, a leg propped up, reading something in his lap. His eyes—those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes—shot up when she entered, but he otherwise didn’t move.
Mariah stood in the entrance for a moment, hands twisting together as she held his gaze.
She debated what to say. Ask him what he was reading? How he was feeling? How the travel was going? Was he excited to be in his mother’s country?
