“What are you doing?” Ash demands when Rowan steps onto the rack at the very rear of the cart. “Get off.”
“It can support my weight,” Rowan argues.
“I didn’t say it couldn’t.”
“I’m going as far as the cottage, and then I’ll fly back.”
“You’re going to fly back,” Ash deadpans, apparently not yet ready to embrace Rowan’s newly discovered magic. “All right, whatever. Hold on. If you fall off, I’m not stopping for you.”
“It’s always a pleasure hanging out with you, Ash,” Rowan says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Enough, both of you,” I say. “For once, try to get along. Who knows? You might be better at it than you think.”
Ash makes a humming noise, disagreeing, but at least he doesn’t argue outright. With a soft command and a move of the reins, his horse plods forward, clip-clopping down the cobblestone road and eventually leaving Main Street behind.
The night is cool and pleasant, but no one seems to know what to talk about, so we ride in silence.
Just as we’re turning down the road that will take us to the cottage, Ash stiffly says, “Even if it wasn’t an illegal substance, I don’t think it would be a good idea to tamper with the shadow pixie magic. It’s too dangerous.”
“The magic won’t touch Kit,” Rowan says. “I’ll draw it, and hers will recoil.”
Ash clears his throat, and though it’s dark and I can’t see his face, he feels annoyed. “I mean, it’s too dangerous foryou.”
We sit in stunned silence for several moments. When Rowan finds his voice, he laughs, uncomfortable. “You wanted to take me to Animal Control. What do you care?”
Ash huffs. “I wouldn’t have done it.”
“What difference does it make to you if I live the rest of my life hallucinating a nightmare?” Rowan demands, sounding almost angry now. “Won’t your life be better if they lock me up in some padded room at a fae hospital?”
“You know it wouldn’t,” Ash says, matching Rowan’s agitated tone. “I would…”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Justsay it,” Rowan demands.
“I would miss you.” Unable to help himself, Ash adds, “Marginally.”
“You’re getting sappy in your middle years,” Rowan says.
“Shut up.”
I sit perfectly still, wondering if they’ve forgotten I’m here and terrified that if I move, I might interrupt this cathartic discussion they’ve accidentally initiated.
“I didn’t know you cared,” Rowan jokes, his voice marginally lighter.
“Of course I care. My achievements look better next to your failures.”
I gasp, but Rowanlaughs.
“You quit the game early,” Ash adds. “I passed the bar, and you weren’t around to gloat to. Our whole dynamic was destroyed. It’s a miracle I achieved anything in your absence.” He looks backward. “And I’m angry that you didn’t come to me for help. Seven years, Rowan.Seven years.”
“You couldn’t help me.”
“But I would havetried.”
“Why?” Rowan demands.
