They back off, confused but wary.
He just continues to watch me, his eyes dark and steady, as if he knows this is the only way I can let it out. I swing the burning branch at him, but he easily blocks it, careful to only touch the branch and not me, knocking it out of my hands and kicking it back to the fire.
I just return to striking him with my body, needing to cause him the pain he’s caused me.
But the more I hit, the worse it gets. Each strike only deepens the ache in my chest. I want to stop, but I can’t. The anger has taken over, coursing through me like wildfire. “I said take me back!” I shout until there’s no air left in my lungs, until the sheer act of shouting hurts more than the ache inside. And yet, I still keep yelling.
“I hate you!” I scream, hitting him again. My hands are bruising, but I don’t care. “I hate you for taking me! For not caring!” The words pour out of me uncontrollably, until my strength finally fades. My punches grow weaker,my legs wobbling. My arms feel like lead, and my sobs tear out of me, ragged and choking. “Please…” My voice cracks as I crumble against him, my body collapsing under the weight of the grief. “Please… They need me. You don’t understand… and I need them.”
Finally, when I’m inches from collapsing, his arms close around me, holding me up as I sink, my legs losing form. The anger drains from me, leaving nothing but exhaustion. My head falls against his chest, and I let out a broken sob. The world feels too heavy. I can’t breathe under the weight of it. My whole body trembles, but he holds me steady, like an anchor.
I don’t know how long I cry. But eventually, the sobs fade into silence. My fists drop, heavy and useless, and I’m left leaning against him, spent.
Without a word, keeping one hand around my waist, he lays out a bedroll, smoothing it with careful precision. “Lie down,” he instructs, his voice softer now, though still edged with command. “You need to rest. We have a long journey ahead.” His expression is still guarded, but there’s something almost… gentle in his movements as he gestures for me to stretch out.
“I hate you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and tired as I curl up in a ball.
He just nods and says, “I know you do.” Turning to go, he then stops and adds, “If you’re going to curse me, you at least deserve my name.” He kneels in front of me, close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath. “It’s Rylan. You can call me Rylan.” I watch his hand flex at his side, but then he stands up, taking a step away from me.
I look up at him, my breath shaky and uneven, but the fight is gone. There’s nothing left in me. And then he turns away, leaving me in the heavy silence of my own grief until sleep finally, mercifully, takes me.
FOUR
Eirabella
I situp slowly a few minutes after dawn, the sky spilling greys and soft pinks through the trees. Everything aches—my legs, my back, my arms. From across the camp, he notices I’m awake and strides over, his gaze still guarded but lacking the edge it had yesterday. “We’ll ride soon,” he says, his voice even. “How long do you need to get ready?”
“Does it matter?” I uncharacteristically snap. Apparently, grumpy is contagious.
His eyes freeze, but the tick in his jaw is obvious. “You should get up. I’ll accompany you down to the river so you can get cleaned up,” he says finally.
“Don’t trust me to go alone?”
“Not as far as you could throw me,” he says, his voice light, as if as an offering.
But his words do nothing to ease the tight knot of anxiety coiled in my chest. I want to scream at him, to demand answers,but I know it won’t get me anywhere. He’s like a stone wall—immovable, impenetrable.
Pushing myself to my feet, I fight the urge to lift my arms out in front of me, to stretch like a cat. My muscles ache from the day before, and I feel the pull of exhaustion deep in my bones, but I won’t let him see that. I won’t let him think I’m weak. I threw my little tantrum last night, but now it’s time to get back on track and find a way to escape him.
So instead, I change tactics. “When we get to wherever it is that we’re going, may I send a letter home?”
Lord Grumpypuss pauses, his expression unreadable. “To your family?”
I nod. It’s not a complete lie. Janus is the closest thing to family I have left. I hope.
He seems to consider this, his gaze flicking back to me. “Yes. You’ll be able to send word,” he says after a moment. “I’ll make sure it happens.”
“You havefive minutes to freshen up,” he says flatly when we reach the stream.
I raise an eyebrow. “Five whole minutes? Such generosity. Are you planning to just stand there watching me, or did you bring snacks?”
His eyes narrow a little, a flicker of amusement buried under the annoyance. “I’d hardly find watching you bathe entertaining, it’s more like a chore.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh, giving him an over-the-shoulder look as I crouch by the water. “Oh, just turn around.”
He just stands there, arms crossed. “So you can try to run off again?”
I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest in mock offence. “Where’s the fun in trying if you’re expectingit?”
