“No,” I say quickly. “I’m looking for his mission document.”
A long moment passes in silence, the cool wind whispering across my skin. I check the final pocket before standing and brushing imaginary dust from my knees. Anything to keep my hands from trembling.
“What did you think you would find?”
“Something about me?” I brace, turning to face him. That ancient, terrible glint has vanished from his eyes, but the distrust—or anger—remains. “I don’t think the Order would guess I came this way, but you can never be too careful.”
He flashes me a smile that’s all teeth. “I heard your voice. I can smell your magic. What were you doing, Swynwraig?”
My stomach twists.
“Nothing,” I say, scrambling for an explanation. “I mean, I tried to do something, but it didn’t work very well. I thought I could use my magic to get an echo of what happened here. But it didn’t work. All I heard was voices talking about the Môrfaen Cliffs.” I give him a timid smile. “My magic has never been very good. That’s why I don’t think the Order will be quick to send someone after me. They probably don’t even care I ran. I’m that useless.”
Stars, what an unconvincing story. That kind of magic isn’t available anymore.
Maybe he doesn’t know that.
“The Môrfaen Cliffs.” The stranger lifts his gaze to the horizon, his expression thoughtful.
“That’s right,” I say.” So, we should probably avoid them. I didn’t intend to get that close the wards, anyway. Especially with the exile there.”
I watch him carefully for a reaction. If he’s the exile, surely some shift in his expression will give him away. A clench of his jaw. A flicker of recognition. Anything. But as he stares toward the coast, his face is made of stone.
“You found no mission document,” he says, “so we can’t be sure they’re not here for you.”
I frown. “I suppose that’s true. Another reason we should avoid the cliffs.”
I mentioned them hoping to warn him away. If heisthe exile and the Order has set a trap there…well, I can’t let them catch him. If I did, they’d earn a reward for his capture while Osian remained trapped in the examination rooms. I’m the one that has to do it.
The High Swynwragedd are cunning. They’ll say I failed. I can already hear their voices echoing in my mind, condemning my oldest friend to a lifetime of mindless captivity. All because I can’t bear to lose him.
After too long, the stranger nods, sending a shiver of relief through me. “Of course. You wanted to head east toward the borderlands, anyway. The road forks in another mile or so. I’ll point you in the right direction.”
I blink. “You’ll what?”
“Point you in the right direction,” he repeats. “We’re out of the dangerous hills now. You won’t run into any rebels along the coast. Is that not what you want?”
My heart pounds. This isn’t what I expected. He’s simply accompanying me through the dangerous lands and then letting me go, like he promised. I glance at his neck, despite myself. His skin is as smooth as ice. No traitor mark in sight.
Maybe he reallyisn’tthe exile. Maybe my paranoia has gotten the better of me.
“Where will you go?” I ask, though I suspect I already know his answer.
“I am no rebel, but I’m no friend to the Order, either.” His icy gaze meets mine, and a shiver runs down my spine. “If they’re on those cliffs, it’s for nothing good.”
My mouth goes dry. “I thought you said they might be here for me.”
“Maybe so. If they are, someone needs to stop them. And if it’s for another reason? It won’t be good for those of us who live out here, Swynwraig.” He steps closer, the wind tugging at his cloak. “I’m sure you’ve spent most of your life in Caer Draen. Things are different out here in the hills. We have to look out for ourselves.”
I tip back my head to gaze up at him, my heart hammering a painful beat. “I don’t think you should go.”
He chuckles. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me. You don’t even know my name.”
“What is it, then?” I counter. “Tell me who you are.”
Slowly, he takes my hand in his. A sudden heat coils in my chest. His eyes never leave mine as he lifts my fingers to his neck, brushing my knuckles against the smooth, unmarked skin at the base of his throat.
“Anghel.” His voice vibrates against my skin, something in him thudding against me like a heartbeat.
