He remembers a river that winds through this stretch of forest. They still haven’t reached it by the time night falls, but it must be close.
Fireflies and starlight are their lanterns after sunset. Gold, violet, and fractured silver. The woods aren’t as dense or difficult to traverse as Rakos expects. Every time he’s thwarted by a particularly vicious snarl of foliage, Bell points out a clear path to the side that takes them north again. Rakos isn’t sure how Bell manages it, but he’s grateful for the minstrel’s keen eye.
“Can we take five minutes?” Bell says suddenly.
Rakos stops. “Are you all right?”
Maybe he should have checked on him earlier. Rakos is used to hanging out with other soldiers and dragonriders, not spindly minstrels.
“Just tired.” Bell bends over, hands on his knees. His blinkmink sways on his shoulder, then teleports to Rakos—who manages not to yelp.
He offers the blinkmink his fingertip. “Can you see Bastard’s magic?”
Bastard nibbles his finger, then shoves her nose in his ear.
“It’s fainter than human magic, but yes. Not quickly enough for me to do anything with the information, though.” Bell rubs his head and straightens up. “We can go.”
Rakos doesn’t move, even as Bell trudges past him. “Hasn’t been five minutes. No rush, we’ve got maybe another hour tonight.”
“Until?”
“There’s a stream I want to reach.” Rakos doesn’t know the name of it. Doesn’t know if it has a name. He’s just seen it from the sky. “Are you good to keep going?”
“Yes,” Bell snaps, and moves forward—heading east.
“Okay, okay, don’t bite my head off.” Rakos grabs Bell’s shoulder and gently redirects him. “This way, no detours.”
“Allright,” Bell snaps again, jerking away. Then he deflates. His face is hard to read in the dim, shifting light. “Sorry. I’m just… sorry.”
Rakos exhales. Fights down the urge to touch him again. “No worries. Just punch me if you need to let off some steam.”
“Noted,” Bell mutters, and they continue.
They reach the stream half an hour later. The water cuts through the woods like a dark glass blade, reflecting shimmering stars and shadows. Not too wide, not too deep, but wide and deep enough that it’s safer to cross by daylight.
“Is this it?” Bell asks at the edge of the stream. Wind ruffles his hair.
“This is it,” Rakos says. “Pick a tree to sleep under. I’ll actually stay awake to watch this time.”
“Great,” Bell says, then crumples to the riverbank.
?
CHAPTER FIVE
Bellamy
Night darkens behind Bellamy’s eyes as his hands and knees hit the damp earth. Bastard squeaks and vanishes. The impact jars Bellamy from his daze, punching air back into his lungs, and his stinging palms are almost welcome.
Better than remaining standing a moment longer.
Too much exertion, too little water, too much stress, too little sleep. Bellamy’s spoiled for headache triggers today. With every breath, tension pulses around his eye. He pushed himself too hard tonight. With or without intending to, he isn’t sure. So rarely allowed to reach his limits, Bellamy doesn’t know what they are. Even on Tavoc, away from Claude’s smothering, Duchess Tavorai or Gregoire or his other oathguards were always there to call an early halt to activities. To bring him water or food he hadn’t asked for.
Bellamy isn’t traveling with oathguards now. Rakos has made their partnership abundantly clear. It’s grudging. Temporary. As soon as they reach Orthin, or as soon as Bellamy falls behind, that partnership is over.
Emotion surges inside Bellamy with another wave of pain. Why should Rakos worry? Why should Bellamy care if he does? He’s never wanted to bother anyone, even though he’s been causing trouble by his very existence since he was born. He’s never wanted other people to botherhimeither. Sometimes the last thing he wants is for people to ask how he feels.
Rakos’s dismissiveness should be exactly what he wants. But for some reason, tonight Bellamy can’t help craving a little more concern.
