Stopping midway through packing, I eyed the window. The wild called. Sneaking out was practically tradition by now.
No one would rush to check on me. This was immature, or overemotional, or dramatic behavior, after all.
They loved me.
I just didn’t feel it.
Chapter 3
Ripples
The sun was kissing the horizon when I reached my hideout haven. I’d found this sanctuary as a child, and it brought me more contentment than my family home. No one expected anything from me here.
The warm lick of the wind on my cheeks was soothing as I climbed. The sting of coarse rock tearing the edges of my fingertips wasn’t. Surefooted and quick, I scaled up the familiar steep cliff barehanded. Heaving my body upwards, I strained and pulled until I was atop the false promontory, facing the small crack in the cliff that revealed a diaphanous coastline.
It was a remote spot, the dense canopy surrounding it ensconced with the area’s own vegetation. From the ground you couldn't tell there was even a ledge here. This plateau was high enough up to barely see over the walls of the inner perimeter, but not steep enough to see the lower outer perimeter beyond it, and far enough away from the shore that there was no risk of getting splashed by miasma.
This would likely be the last time I could sneak back herebefore the Mistrun. It might be the last time I ever saw it. My heart clenched itself into a tight fist.
Everything was just how I remembered it, the ironwing ant hill on the corner, the fresh perfume of blooming hibiscus clinging to the edges of the Rainbow Eucalyptus that towered over the center of the area. The constellations of deep engravings scarring the rock, knit together into ancient symbols. Even the mossy blanket that hugged them and carpeted the entire edge, with the rolling rock river that I had redirected years ago to create a small wind breaker for my vantage point. Everything was the same.
The handsome fighter from Docksiders who sat in my favorite spot overlooking the miasma sea that surrounded Mesmoria, reading a journal… that was new.
His presence had a gravity to it, and I almost didn't want to disturb him as he glared out at the sparkling sheen of the ocean with his back to me. He was pensive, and I felt like the intruder here, even though this wasmyspot.
I must have made some small noise, because he turned toward me and something fluttered in my chest.
His complexion was that of the far side of the island; he had Southerner features, concealed by the shadow of stubble. I should have been afraid, given the private nature of this location and the sheer amount of Skinscript he wore, but I'd spent too long in the company of criminals to be scared so easily.
His heated gaze raked over me. “Didn't get enough violence, huh? Needed a private view of raw physicality? As much as I love a good piece of tail, I don't appreciatebeingtailed. Plus, I'm not in the mood.” His voice brushed against me, low and smooth. He looked down at his book, pointedly turning his back to me.
I bristled at the implication. “Not everything is about you; I didn't follow you here. If you're going to brood, you could beless aggressively unpleasant about it. Or you could do us both a favor, and leave.”
He snorted, turning back toward me. “You’ve gotta be kidding. I was here first. You’re the one who should leave.”
Anger replaced the color of any flush in my cheeks. Never mind my foolish hormones, I didn't need to hear him speak again. This might be my last chance to enjoy this secret spot, and thisrude,albeit attractive stranger was trying to pressure me into leaving. “All the testosterone from your victory earlier must have clouded your brain. Not. Everything. Is. About. You.”
He was seated in the middle of the crack in the cliff, inmyseat, without enough room on either side for me to squeeze in. His massive frame was occupying so much space that even from this end of the outcrop, it was difficult to see around him. Maybe from the top of the nearby Eucalyptus I could get an unobstructed view of the miasma.
And it’ll maintain a safe distance.
Testing my weight on the lower branches, I was encouraged when they didn’t break beneath me. Hefting myself up, I climbed the tree. The curling bark was loose, sloughing off in flaky sheets as I gained height.
“Hey, watch it,” he warned as stray peels of bark landed in his lap.
Serves him right, seat-thief.
A meatier chunk of bark loosened under my foot, stumbling its way down the branches to smack the crown of his head. A grunt rose from below as it collided with his thick skull.
“Get down from there before you fall and take us both out,” he growled.
“I won’t fall,” I told him, trying to peer around the dense foliage. Disappointment rose when I saw how compact the leaves were, there wasn’t any view of the miasma beyond the layers of greenery. Any higher and the branches wouldn’t be ableto bear my weight. The only vantage point of the coast was where he already sat.
He grumbled something under his breath. “That’s something someone says right before they fall.” He paused. “Don’t think I’ll catch you either. I won’t.”
I clenched my jaw, making my way back down. “You take up so much space it’d be impossible to miss hitting you if I did fall. And I wouldn’t dream of assuming you had a single unselfish bone in your body.” I jumped down the final distance to the ledge.
“Selfish?”
