“Here,” he says, unfastening his cloak. “Sleep under my cloak.”
I hesitate, eyeing the cloak like it’s a rabid snow wolf.
“And … where willyousleep?”
A beat. Then, with the faintest hint of challenge, “Under my cloak.”
My fingers tremble as I take it. It smells like smoke and pine andhim. Wrapped in it, cocooned in warmth, I try to sleep. I really do.
But I lay there, awake. Listening. Waiting.
I’d slept in his arms last night, but I’d been half-frozen and half-asleep. It feels much more dangerous tonight.
Eventually, the scraping sizzle of snow kicked over fire wafts toward me. I can only guess when he’s reached the blanket by the faint sound of his boots unlacing—somehow, his footsteps are always silent. His breath is steady as he peels back the edge of the cloak and lies down beside me.
So close. Tides drown me. Must he nestle in so close? I guess we won’t both fit beneath the cloak otherwise, but does he need to—
“You know it defeats the purpose of me staying up if you don’t actually sleep,” he rumbles, voice laced with amusement.
I snap my eyes open. His gray gaze waits for me in the dark.
“This feels wrong,” I whisper. “What will your brother think … when he finds out we’ve … slept together. I mean not—”
“If you think this counts as sleeping together, you’ve been doing it wrong.”
My breath catches in my throat.
He goes still. Then he sighs, low and tired. “That was … inappropriate.” When I don’t answer, his voice softens. “No one needs to know. The weather will warm up as we get closer to Arbinj. We won’t have to sleep this way for long. It’s just survival, Mayah. Nothing else.”
Just survival.
So why is my heart racing like I’m being chased?
It’s a long time before sleep finally comes.
Chapter Ten
We’vebeentravelingfordays. True to his word, Zevayr doesn’t touch me—except every night when I sleep in his arms. We don’t talk about it. Like he said, it’s necessary for survival in the frigid landscape and nothing more. I try not to dwell on it.
During the day, we usually travel in silence.
But whenever Zevayrdoesspeak, it’s a struggle not to strangle him. I’ve never met a more infuriating man. It’s as though his every comment is designed to burrow beneath my skin and rile me up.
“How much farther until we’re out of Tundrayn?” I ask, my breath misting in the brisk air. The unforgiving chill manages to seep through my borrowed gloves. I lock my jaw so my teeth don’t chatter. It irks me that the freezing temperatures don’t seem to affect Zevayr nearly as much. He must’ve grown accustomed to our harsh climate over all the years he’s spent in our lands—murdering my people.
“At least another two weeks.” He glances back at me, a mocking smirk curling his full lips. “Tired already? I didn’t realize Tundraynis were such babies.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I’ve met corpses with better insults than you.”
“Meet a lot of corpses, do you?”
“Yes, actually. It’s quite cruel. They come back in droves from the border. Usually burnt to a crisp by lightning.”
His jaw clenches so hard, for a second I hope his teeth will crack.
And just like that, we’re back to traveling in silence.
Frost crunches underfoot as I gather dried pine branches for a fire while Zevayr hunts. We’ve mostly been eating snowshoe hare, though once he caught a large arctic fox.
