If not, I’ll get Creed to kick his ass.
Nothing will happen.
“I assume everyone is fine with going with this plan?” Amick asks.
The strain in his tone and in his soul adds to the pain in my heart. The sensation intensifies when everyone grunts their agreement. If I couldn’t literally feel him, he’d have me as fooled as he does them.
He’s petrified that his plan is going to fail them“again.”
Which is his opinion. Not mine. I don’t think he failed them the first time he made this route. Even though they didn’t get to trek this long-ass path, he did nothing wrong.
“Very well,” he finally says after a tense second of silence.
“Everyone understands this won’t be a leisurely journey. No showers, comfortable pajamas, beds, and five-course feasts. Thayla, if you will, take Yemi to your room and let her borrow some armor. Sevryn, you may borrow a pair of mine. Creed and Kyzen gather the emergency supplies. I’ll put it all in the illusion cube, so our hands are free, and we aren’t weighed down. I want to be leaving in the next fifteen minutes.”
He holds his hand out to me, and I lay mine in his with no thought. Him shaking his head confuses me.
“I’ll put the backpack and those waist bags in the cube as well.”
“Oh, uh…I’d rather carry them. If that’s okay?”
His mouth opens with his response ready, but he holds it back as he brings my knuckles to his lips.
“Of course.”
He heads to his room, ordering Sevryn to follow along. Kyzen and Creed are already maneuvering around, so when Yemi links her arm through mine and nods toward my hallway, I don’t say anything.
She waits until I’m in my closet, trying to decide which armor to give her before she speaks.
“Do you want to talk about this before we leave?”
“Talk about what?”
“How you’re upset with me for coming.”
I release a loud exhale as I grab the pair I know is closest to the one I have on already.
Oh…eww. There’s still Oblirian blood on me.
My shoes go flying across the closet, banging against the back wall as I kick them off and then slip Riven’s waist bags and backpack off. I yank on my belt, attempting to get it to come undone, but the damn buckle is stuck. By the third snatch, I’m ready to cut the pants off completely.
“You piece of taurnshit.”
“Me?” Yemi shrieks as she stands in the doorway.
“What? No, this damn belt. The little piece that goes in the hole is stuck.”
“The prong.”
“What?” I ask.
“Never mind. Do you need some help?”
I exhale sharply, flex my fingers, and will my rapidly rising irritation to simmer back down.
“No, I got it. Put this on.”
She grimaces at the armor, making a small chuckle slip through my lips. My throat burns from the sound like it was made of glass as it came up and out of my mouth.
