That’s when we ran, too.
I wonder how many humans got away—if any.
Maybe the ones who tried were killed, and the evates were thrown back to the guards.
But it explains why this guy is hanging around our campfire. It’s closer to the captives in the meadow, and from here he can keep a better eye on her.
“I don’t blame her.”
The words just spill out.
No filter.
It’s a fucking curse.
Because that warrior swerves his gaze to me, and it’s outraged. Windows to the blackout.
I scoot closer to Samick until my hip bone is pressing hard into his.
Samick aims a glacier look down at me—and holds it.
I don’t think he likes what I said, either.
I shoot an annoyed look at Samick. “An earthquake happens in the dark, and Connie’s meant to stay put?”
The dark warrior arches his brow, almost like he’s surprised I know her name.
Joke’s on him, because that’s not her name.
I just gave her the name back when she wore Converse. Now, she wears lace up boots.
But that means he doesn’t even know her name.
It brings a frown to my brow. “Does she know you would’ve saved her in the earthquake?”
He just stares at me with a blankness on his face.
What conversation has he had with her, if any?
“Does she know where you’re taking her?” I ask. “What you’re going to do with her? Does she know anything more than she’s been kidnapped, dragged across the country, and some fae keeps throwing jackets and shoes and snacks at her?”
The warrior’s face turns to stone.
But his mouth twists into a slanted line, and I don’t know if he’s fighting the urge to take a chunk out of me.
I shift on the grass, leaning away from Samick and his sudden chill.
A frown turns Samick’s mouth down at the corner. For a beat, he considers me, then, “Do human women need to know these things? It is better for them?”
My face is taken by a deadpan expression. “Yeah. It helps.”
He doesn’t pick up on my sarcasm.
Instead, he asks, “What would you tell her?”
Something in me loosens—a tension uncoiled.
“I… I would tell her the truth.”
