Recognition settles into her features, and her brows pinch together. “That ghost town dump?”
That pulls a soft snort from me, and I nod once. “Yeah, that place. I’ve been repurposing it with my group, and we’re turning it intolessof a dump.”
She scoffs. “And you think I’m just going to go with you.”
“I know you are.”
Her brows lift. “Really?”
“I do.”
“And why is that?” Naia asks, tone bordering on mocking now, as if she has already made up her mind.
“Because you’re not getting past me to go back to Wraith Peak after all of this. Not while I can feel your location now,” I say evenly, knowing full well that’s where her mind still is. “And because you’re smart enough to know you need more information before you make your next move.”
She hesitates, just for a second, then mutters, “You’re unbelievable.”
“And still going out of my way to keep you safe regardless.”
Naia’s gaze burns further, then she tries to push the anger down with a breath. “Fine, but don’t get used to it. I’m not agreeing with you; I’m just…choosing the better option for now.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
She glares at me again, but she doesn’t argue further, and that’s all I need for now.
***
The ferry ride the following day is quiet. Almost too quiet, save for the boat’s engine and the waves being split as we move.
Naia stands near the railing, arms resting on the edge as she stares out at the water, the wind pulling at her hair and carrying the faint scent of salt. She’s wearing one of my sweaters that’s obviously too big for her, but it stokes something unfamiliar in me.
The Willow island looms ahead of us. Even from here, I can feel the weight of what’s to come and what Naia is going to have to face.
I move to stand beside her, close enough to feel the shift in the bond again, growing stronger now from the proximity, like it’s reinforcing itself the longer we’re near each other. She doesn’t bother to look at me.
“I hope you’re not having second thoughts,” I say, hoping for levity despite everything.
Naia’s jaw tightens instead, and she scoffs under her breath. “As if I were even allowed to have one to begin with.”
She got me there.
Silently telling myself not to rise to the bait, or to let this become a fight in front of the other passengers, I force my emotions into something neutral. “You’re quiet.”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
“That’s rare,” I murmur, leaning against the railing with her. “And usually not the case with me.”
That earns me a sideways glance that’s both brief and biting before she looks away again.
“It’s temporary,” she says.
“Sure.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do,” I respond, gentler now as I study her a beat longer, able to feel every wave of emotion coming from her now.
The water stretches endlessly in front of us, the island growing closer with every passing minute as Ashford disappears behind us.
