“I’m fine,” I said, blinking against the tiredness.
“You’re making me tired.” He nudged me so I fell back againsthim, and the additional heat did nothing to help my exhaustion. “You can take the first watch when we stop.”
“All right,” I agreed when his conviction found its way into me. “Wake me when you need a break.”
A warm breeze made leaves whirl before us, and I bowed my head when the forest spirit showed her face again. More warmth danced over my skin, and I closed my eyes, listening to Darcke’s low whistle and letting his chest and the horse rock me into half slumber.
A voice pulled me awake. “We should find somewhere to stop.”
My brows pulled. “Why?”
“Because I’m tired?” the man replied.
More confusion filled me, and my thoughts refused to clear. Clouds floated within my mind like a white mist that covered everything I needed to sort through. Faces eluded me, going in and out, and I blinked at the dark forest that was nothing like the warm beach I should be headed to—nothing like my home.
The blanket of white was alluring—welcoming—but I still fought it. Something within me tried to burrow through, but it was as if the mist solidified, keeping anything clear at bay.
“But it’s daytime?” I asked, turning around on the horse.
“No. We’ve been here for hours.” A terrifyingly handsome man stared back at me, his hair strangely short, lying in messy waves atop his head. Even with the war paint dabbed across his eyes and the ridge of his nose, two tattoos peeked through: three dots forming a triangle beneath his right eye, and below his other one, three waves rising above his sharp cheekbone.
Before I could stop myself, I lifted a hand and traced a finger over the black markings. “These are pretty.”
“Very funny,” he replied, his eyes narrowing. “We should find shelter. I don’t want us or the horse out in the open. Who knows what else is hiding behind these trees.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” I replied. “I meant it.”
The man shook his head. “Great. Still, shelter.”
“What do they mean?” I poked the three waves. “This is for the three great seas, but what are the dots?”
“Focus,” the man said.
I tilted my head when a strange brush of anger went over my chest. “Tell me and I’ll focus.”
“It’s a reminder that we only need wind, current, and will to find a way out of anything,” he said. “It’s the mark of my people.”
“I love that.” I cupped his cheek, letting my thumb brush over his hot skin, smudging his war paint. His dark eyes flashed, making them even more alluring—like reflective pools of water drawing you in only to drown you. “Do I have any marks for my people?”
His back went stiff under my touch. “What?”
I waved a hand over my face. “Do I have any tattoos?”
“You know you don’t,heir.”
I brushed my fingers over the crease between his brows. “Am I the heir?”
Something I didn’t like as much flashed in the man’s eyes. “Do you know who I am?”
“No,” I said. “Should I?”
I wanted to get to know him. He was beautiful. I liked the way his lips curved, like they were always holding back a smile, and his face was all sharp angles that I wouldn’t mind risking cutting myself on.
“You don’t think it’s weird you’re riding with me on a horse in this cursed forest?” he asked.
I twisted my mouth. “Not really. It feels like where I should be.Youfeel like who I should be with.”
At least something within me was trying to tell me that was true. I tried to focus on what that was, but the feeling slipped like sand between my fingers each time.
