Smiling at the fanciful idea that one day maybe I could write a travel guide myself, I don’t notice Trick approaching the fire until I catch the familiar citrus scent of the candies he likes so well. He drops to sit next to me, and I can’t help leaning against him, seeking the familiar comfort of his presence.
But then I remember his reaction to the amulet and scoot a few inches away. “I’m sorry. I know the amulet—”
He puts an arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay. If you can be brave enough to wear it, I can be brave enough to sit next to you. You and me against the world, right?”
I nod, swallowing hard and fighting the burning in my eyes. I won’t let my companions see me cry. I’ve been fierce in my attempts to never letanyonesee me cry, but there are some injustices—physical abuses, and starvation when I was forbidden food for two or even three days for some imaginary infraction—when I couldn’t hold back the tears, no matter how hard I tried.
Even after I realized my tormentors wanted me to cry and would back off when I did, I refused to give them that satisfaction. A fellow servant once whispered to me I’d surely have fewer scars if I’d only give in and wail, like she did. Grovel.
Beg.
She was rubbing salve into the bleeding stripes on my back when she said it, so it was hard to ignore her wisdom.
But I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let them see how thoroughly andcompletely they diminished me. Ground me down into nothing. Less than nothing.
Into nobody.
“I’m sorry I was so out of control in the palace. They hit my head with a club when they came for me. I was still dazed when we were in the throne room, and then that poor girl …”
“Trick—”
“Soli,” he says quietly. “The sorcerer’s binding. It feels like—like nothing I can describe. Like having magical cords wrapped around and around and around me. I’m—You know about my hatred … my fear of being bound or locked up.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry. I’ll ask her to make it stop. Retract the magic.”
“We have to get away from these people,” he murmurs, checking to see if anyone is within hearing range.
Part of me wants to agree, but the weight of the quest stops me. “I … don’t know. I think I have to do this. To help save Artemisen. Save Altarra.”
His arm tightens around my shoulders, and then he removes it and clasps his hands between his knees. “Okay. We can talk about this later. Anyway, should you be resting? I know you’re tough, but you’ve spent most of your life indoors. You must be as worn out as I am,” he says, so kind and caring that I can’t help but return his smile.
“It was a long day, but somehow I’m hanging in there,” I say, wanting to make him understand. “It’s like I finally have the chance to step outside the smallness of my life, and—”
“And you’re braver than I am to do it without protest,” he says, reaching over to take the spoon from my hand. “Let me help with this, at least.”
When I let him take the spoon, a wave of warmth slides through me. This may be the most terrifying, impossible quest in the history of Altarra, but I’m not alone.
My friend is with me.
And Trick thinks I’m brave, so maybe I’m pretending hard enough to become brave, after all.
He’s right, though. I’m exhausted. If today was this hard, what willtomorrow bring?
The thought sends a chill to replace the warmth. Who am I trying to fool? What could an indentured servant contribute to this journey beyond the simple fact of my existence as a nobody, fulfilling an oracle’s almost indecipherable rambling?
When I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head on them, closing my eyes, Trick puts a hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re tough, Soli. You’ll take care of me, and I’ll take care of you.”
“Soli is doing a great job taking care of herself.” The words sizzle like ice dropped into a hot skillet, and I open my eyes to see the prince standing across the fire, glaring at Trick.
Trick shoots a lazy grin at Kaelen. “She always does. But whether or not I help my friend is none of your business, is it?”
Kaelen’s face hardens, and his body tenses—a lightning strike in the shape of a man.
I jump up, not willing to wait for the thunder. “Stop! Both of you, please. Just stop.”
“Yes, stop,” drawls the Sylvan’s familiar aristocratic voice from behind me. “This quest has enough danger without adding the stress of two rabid dogs fighting over a bone.”
“Rabid?” Kaelen says, and
