But her voice flowed with relief. She rushed to his side. “Are you hurt?”
Her reaction stunned him. Perhaps the note he had left and the foolish nobility it signaled was enough to redeem his viscousness in her eyes. “Only embarrassed,” he managed, easing into a more dignified position. He gestured to the trap. “It seems I’ve been ensnared.”
“You’re on a rabbit run,” Anya explained. The openness of her voice had choked off. She pointed, and the faint trail of worn earth and bent grass seemed to materialize before his eyes. He must have unconsciously settled upon the path of least resistance and as a result, walked directly into a trap.
Anya pulled the wire between her fingers and carefully felt toward his ankle. She found the lock and loosened it, then pulled his ankle free. “Expensive snare. A city hunter must’ve set it. They’re miles off if they think they’ll catch the phoenix here. Suppose when you have money to spare, you feel free to take your chances.”
Something was different about her. She was rambling. Nervous. Small wisps of hair had escaped her braid and framed her face, which was shining with sweat.
Gingerly, he pulled his foot free from his boot. He rolled his ankle, testing the damage. It was lightly bruised, more from his lack of blood than from the strain. It didn’t feel sprained.
He felt her examining him. He knew she had never thought highly of him. What must she think of him now?
“I must admit, I’m glad to see you,” he said, pulling his boot back on. It came out stilted, stiff, and he closed his eyes in annoyance at himself.
“You could have freed yourself after a bit of fumbling around,” she said dully.
“That…” He took a deep breath. His eyes sought hers, but she wouldn’t meet them. “That isn’t what I meant.”
At his voice, she lifted her head imperiously. “I couldn’t pretend to know what you meant. Surely only an educated mind could decipher it.”
His words thrown back at him pierced him like talons. “I want to apologize,” he began inadequately. “What I said was–”
“You’ve seen things, haven’t you?” Chastened, he nodded. “And so you believe me now.”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t believe you–”
“What was it, then?” Her eyes found his, and he felt stricken. The anger in them was startling enough.
But in the sunlight, they should be dazzling. Instead, they were flatter, deadened, their beautiful color dulled. Almost as if they reflected no light at all.
She backed away. She still wore his gloves. Looking closer at the dewiness upon her skin, he began to suspect it wasn’t only sweat. Perhaps it wasn’t sweat at all.
If she expected an answer, she didn’t wait for it. “Where is my shotgun?”
He took a deep breath. “I was involved in a misunderstanding–”
“Have you any idea how much those cost?”
Irritation tingled his tongue. “Then why did you give it to me?”
“I wouldn’t have if I’d known you’d steal it. Along with my map.”
He balked.Stealseemed overly harsh, though technically true. “I – I didn’t think you needed it.”
“Then why in all seven skies would I have brought it?”
He lost his composure. “I don’t know. That’s gone, too.”
Her face fell. He realized her connection to her mentor’s map was more than practical. “Gone?”
“The misunderstanding I mentioned,” he said, rising to his feet. He offered her a hand. She stood without even glancing at it.
“What happened?” she demanded. “What did you see?”
He chewed on his tongue, debating his answer. But he saw no point in lying. “An apple tree.”
She nodded. “I know the one.” Her imperious anger wavered. “Did anyone–”
