She shifts a token few inches and I struggle to suppress a grin. Kyor may be a prince, but to Elska, he’s just her bonded, and she’s not afraid to remind him of that fact.
While the rest of us rub our hands in front of the flames and try to ignore the rumblings in our bellies, the prince opens his travel bag and pulls out a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a couple of other paper-wrapped items.
‘Food!’ Benny says eagerly. ‘Kyor brought food.’ He grins wildly at the prince. ‘You know, I’ve always liked you.’
Kyor pauses midway through slicing off a chunk of bread. ‘You didn’t bring food with you?’ His tone is incredulous.
‘Of course we did,’ Ruben grunts back. ‘We’re not idiots.’
‘Then where is it?’
Caz grimaces. ‘We gave it all to the starving urchins. It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
‘It did not,’ Benny mutters.
‘We did it for the kids who starve every single day in the slums,’ Ruben joins in, his attention solely on Kyor. ‘You know … your subjects?’
Ruben’s eyes go distant, and I know he’s thinking of the slums. From the way his lip trembles, he’s thinking of his mother too – her loss still raw, still cutting.
Kyor ignores Ruben as if he hasn’t spoken and looks at his provisions. It’s enough for one person for a good few days, but not enough for all of us for very long. Still, he finishes cutting off the slice and then hands the bread and knife to Benny before proceeding to do the same with the rest of the items.
As a packet of ham reaches me, Elska gets up and stretches, but rather than repositioning herself in front of the flames, she stalks off into the trees.
‘Where’s she going?’ Caz asks.
‘To hunt,’ Kyor grunts. ‘Apparently, we’re going to need more food.’
When we’ve finished eating a good portion of Kyor’s supplies, Caz once again returns to her maps. While the rest of us are struggling with the cold, Kyor stands up and removes his shirt, which he folds neatly before placing it on the log he was sitting on.
‘What are you doing?’ I snap, fully aware that he’s staring at me because I’m having to use every bit of willpower I have not to stare back. How has he grown more physically perfect since I last saw him topless?
‘Get up,’ he instructs me with the same tone he used with Elska. And just like his wolf, I pay it very little attention.
‘You’re blocking the heat,’ I say instead.
Rather than responding, he turns around and kicks dirtinto the fire. The flames stutter and cough, spitting and crackling as they try to stay alight.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ I spit. ‘We need that.’
‘What you need, sweetheart, is to train. So get up or I’ll put the fire out for real.’
My back teeth grind together at his stupid, petty action, but he’s not bluffing. If I don’t get up, he’ll put the entire fire out, and relighting it is just a hassle we don’t need.
Reluctantly, I drag myself onto my feet.
‘Did you bring a sword?’ he asks me.
I give him a flat look. ‘Obviously.’ Only a fool would take the Hirathean Path without adequately arming themselves.
‘Good,’ he grunts.
With a single swivel, he turns on the balls of his feet then moves over towards a tree where a couple of bags – including one big enough to hold several weapons – are propped up against the trunk. While I know he’s expecting me to follow, I linger a moment, not because I’m planning to refuse again, but because there’s something about seeing the ripples of his muscles in the firelight. The way the shadows of the now-muted flames dance across the carved contours of his shoulder blades and back. It makes my entire body forget it’s meant to be walking.
‘We’ll use mine to train,’ he says, swinging back to face me, two swords swaying in his grasp.
With a reluctance that comes as much from moving away from the fire as it does from being close to Kyor, I finally amble across to join him.
‘You’re a fighter, Rose. A survivor,’ he says, handing me the sword. ‘But what you’ll have to face on this trip will make the other Rettlings look like pussycats. You need to be ready for anything.’
