“How could you?” Arthur calls, as if he has some claim to her.
She spins back around. “I was reminding him who he has to fight for, Arthur Couch!”
Instead of yelling back, or even sneering as she expected when she threw his own words in his face, the young man nods slowly, bobbing his head like a bird.
Her irritation melts, and Mairwen chews her bottom lip. But she has nothing else to say to Arthur. So she turns again, stomping through fallen leaves.
A hand grabs her elbow and swings her around. Arthur’s flickering eyes gouge into hers. “He didn’t let you, though, did he?Iwould have.”
She shrugs. “That’s only proof of what we both already know about the difference between you and Rhun Sayer.”
“Andyouand Rhun Sayer,” Arthur shoots back.
Mair’s blood boils, and her cheeks flush hot, like Arthur infected her with his burning ulcer. “Fine, yes,” she hisses. “We’re neither of us as good as him, neither of us noble and bound to the promise of Three Graces. Is that what you want to hear?It doesn’t matter. It’s him who’s going into the forest, him who’ll face the devil. The men will choose him because he’s everything a saint of this town is supposed to be: brave, strong, kind, generous, friendly! Noble and innocent, and not always angry and doubting like us. That’s how it should be. If we didn’t love him, it wouldn’t be a sacrifice.” She jerks free of Arthur’s touch. “You paint a smile on that sour face, and you don’t let him see anything else. He doesn’t need your frustration and doubts and denials. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Arthur murmurs. He holds his hands away from her. “I understand you perfectly.”
“Good. Because helovesyou, and if he doubts he has reason to survive this night, it will beyour fault.”
This time, when Mairwen leaves, Arthur doesn’t stop her.
Her wild heartbeat presses her home fast, and Nona doesn’t manage to catch up with her after all.
•••
RHUN’S MOTHER HANDS HIM Athick slice of bread slathered in butter, with strips of fried ham on top. “Here. Eat up. You’ll need it.”
He takes his first huge bite while Nona watches. “I’ve got to get to the Grace house,” she says when he swallows. “I love you. I’ll see you... tomorrow morning.”
Before eating more, Rhun balances the bread precariously on the edge of the table and grabs Nona in a hug. It might be his last chance.
She returns it ferociously, but neither says more before she frees herself and leaves him.
Chewing slowly to savor the breakfast, Rhun shrugs his quiver on his shoulder and double-checks he’s got his bow on his back and his long knife strapped to his thigh. The hilt of the knife is made of yellowish bone, smooth and warm under his thumb.
Outside, Rhun breathes deeply as he joins Arthur standing in the center of the yard. The sky is bright, the air warmer than he expected, and all the trees flicker their leaves at him. It’s a beautiful last day.
Of course he shouldn’t think that way, but he doesn’t try hard to stop it. If he’s learned nothing about himself, it’s that he needs to be in the moment to truly appreciate it. Why pretend he might have more beautiful autumn days when he can embrace the promise of his fate and better love thisnow?
Arthur says, “Do you think this place would be prettier if it rained more often? So we had bad weather to compare with our good?”
Rhun laughs. “No. It rains exactly the right amount.”
Giving him an angry look, Arthur starts toward the path up the mountain. But then, Arthur’s looks are nearly always angry, so it can’t touch Rhun’s broad, winning mood. He hums as he goes after, striding longer than necessary, until he’s far enough ahead of Arthur to turn backward and grin. “Keep up, man!”
Arthur says, “What’s the point?”
“I want to be—I...” Rhun waits for his friend. “I’m glad to spend this day with you,” he says.
“Oh.” Arthur turns his head away as he catches up. His eyes widen in shock and panic as he takes in the trees around them, the golden-brown leaves and narrow deer path.
It dawns on Rhun this is very near the place he kissed Arthur three years ago. Fear tenses up his stomach and he swallows. He opens his mouth, but nothing pops in fast enough to fix it.
“I’m all right,” Arthur says roughly. He won’t meet Rhun’s gaze, but then suddenly he does: Arthur’s blue eyes intense enough to curl Rhun’s toes. “I’d run for you. Let me do it for you.”
Rhun thinks,This could be the last time we’re alone. The last time I have a chance to say anything.But then it sinks in what Arthur said.Let me do it for you.
“You can’t do it for me,” Rhun says. “It’s mine to do.”
