“Which province are we in?” I kept my voice soft, not wanting to disturb the peace of our surroundings.
“Sylvaneth.” His voice was equally hushed.
I brought up the mental map I was trying to memorize from what Finn had shown me. We were on the eastern side of the realm, south of the Mistrael Mountains, if I remembered correctly.
“Tell me something about yourself.” I stumbled over a tree root, trying to keep up with his long stride. Reflexively, his hand reached out and caught my arm before I could trip further, and he adjusted his pace.
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. What was your favorite thing to do as a child?Or your favorite color? Or how you got so good with the sword. Anything, really.”
He silently raised an eyebrow, so I continued. “Finn likes to talk”—the corner of his mouth twitched up at my understatement—“so I feel like I know him. At least a bit. Everyone knows my history, better than I know it myself, but you’re still a mystery. I know almost nothing about you, other than you come and go like the wind and are apparently dedicated to keeping me safe.”
He ran a hand over his stubbled chin. “I got so good with the sword because I trained.”
“Thanks, Griff. Very helpful,” I muttered, and was surprised when he let out a low chuckle.
“My favorite color is the ocean back home,” he replied softly, not looking at me. “It’s a light turquoise, and when the sun shines on it, through it, it is the most beautiful thing in the world. And to answer your other question, my favorite thing to do as a child was swim.” He was silent for a moment, before he surprised me again by continuing, “My village, Maraleth, is near the ocean—on top of the ocean, really—and when I was young, I loved to swim out to this beach isle. My father would sometimes join me. We would leave early in the morning, while it was still dark. The weather is more mild than here, and the ocean is always warm. We would swim to that isle and sit there and watch the sunrise.”
As he talked, the image formed in my mind. The colorful painted houses and canals, bridges stretching between them. The turquoise and cerulean blues of the water. The vibrant colors of the sun as it woke up, painting the world in shades of pinks and oranges, the faint purple of dawn breaking through.
“That sounds peaceful,” I said softly.
“It is. There’s nothing quite like it. I’ll take you there someday.”
“Promise?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Promise.”
I hid my grin as something else occurred to me. “You mentionedyour father. Finn talks about your mother, but never him. Where is he?”
“Gone.”
And just like that, the gentle energy between us was gone, turning into a stony wall. I reached out and took his hand, warmth spreading through our touch, trying to regain the playful spirit from before, but it had fled with his single word.
Threading my fingers through his, I squeezed gently, my hand dwarfed in his. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He glanced sharply at our hands. Confused, I quickly dropped his, slowing my pace and letting him go on ahead.
I followed him in silence for a while, taking in the beauty of this forest. The path was starting to turn uphill, and we began climbing. I wasn’t sure how long we walked, but my thighs were starting to burn. But I wasn’t going to complain. Not while I was out here, breathing in nature, even if that breathing was starting to be a bit labored.
Griff waited at the top of a rise, and held his hand out to me. I took it, feeling that jolt of power that was starting to become expected. One of these days, I was going to ask him what that was. But after the way our previous conversation ended, I didn’t want to risk it right now. And it was soon forgotten, for as he helped me up the last few feet, what spread before me took my breath away.
Below was a clearing, surrounded by trees shining golden in the sunlight, the autumn colors reflecting on the surface of a clear pond at the far end. The pond fed a gently rolling river, but what caught my attention was the waterfall, stretching up toward the sky. Even standing on the higher elevation, like we were now, I had to look up, and up, and up, to glimpse where it began.
It cascaded in three tiers, each one broader and more magnificent than the one above, stair-stepping down the cliff face. The spray of mist shimmered in the morning light. From this distance, all I could hear was a gentle murmur, a symphony of falling water, but Iimagined it must be thunderous up close. Two ancient wooden bridges stretched across at different elevations, the weathered planks becoming one with the cliff itself.
“Do you want to go up there?” he asked softly, as if he was worried he might disturb the peace of the area.
I nodded, shocked into silence by the beauty of this place.
He put his arms around me, and in a moment, we arrived on the lowest bridge. Droplets from the spray above hit me in the face, cool in the dim light, startling a laugh out of me. Throwing my hands to the heavens, I tilted my head back and twirled in the mist, dancing to the sound of the rushing water. I spun and skipped, examining the view from every angle before turning back to him, my clothes damp from the spray. What I saw in his face made my breath catch. Gone was the mask he typically wore. His eyes crinkled and a small smile was on his lips. My hair had loosened from its braid, parts of it damp and sticking to my cheek. He reached out and tucked it behind my ears as his eyes roved over my face. My cheeks grew warm as I turned to look out at the view.
Shifting away from him slightly, I lifted my arms over my head, stretching my back from the hike. Feeling his gaze on me again, I glanced over, only for his eyes to dart away. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.
I raised my brows at him.
“Ready for the next level?” was his only reply.
