We eat dinner in silence, and the three guards are snoring on the bedrolls even before I’ve finished my tea.
Wandering over to Mathis’s horse to retrieve the wound kit, I feel Rylan’s eyes on me. An eyebrow lifts as I make my way over, kneel on the bedroll next to him, and reach for his hand. He resists at first, but then lets me take it, a silent question in his eyes. The worst of the blistering stops below his bronze cuff so I don’t feel the need to ask him to remove it, but the rest of his skin on his wrist and hand is still angry, red, and raw.
Tipping the remnants of the teacup onto my hand, I squeeze the last of the liquid out of the tea leaves and gently lay them onto his wound.
“Kellaroot. Makes for a good tea. And an even better salve,” I explain. Then, tearing a strip of fabric from my tunic, I wrap his hand in the leftover bandage. “Try to keep it dry for a day. I’ll change the bandage on both of your wounds tomorrow.” Then, just because, I gently lay my hand on his bandage, as ifwilling his wound to heal under my touch. I imagine it cooling under my touch.
He blinks and looks down at his hand, then back up to me, the lines of his forehead smoothing. Quickly, I yank my hand back. “Sorry, that probably makes it worse; my hands are always hot.”
He turns his wrapped hand as if examining it in the campfire light, but his eyes are on mine, and he shakes his head. “No, it didn’t make it worse.” The amber in his irises flares, red-hot like the flames. That fire, his Strength, it consumes him, from the inside out. And right now… it feels like I’m enveloped in the heat as well.
Clearing my throat as I push myself to my feet, I feel a gentle tug, but when I look down, my hand is empty. I must’ve imagined it. I’m halfway to my bedroll when I hear him say, “Get some sleep. We’ll arrive in Narathia in two days.”
Narathia. The kingdom’s capital.
I spin around to face him, a torrent of questions on my tongue, but the openness in his eyes has shut down again again, and I know anything I ask will go unanswered.
We’re going to the capital. At least now I have a destination.
I stretch out on my bedroll and dream of all the things that could be waiting for me there.
“You’re riding with me today,”Rylan announces as we all get ready to mount the next morning.
Mathis flicks his eyes to me as I frown, pulling myself up to my full height to meet Rylan’s gaze. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll just ride with Mathis again.”
Rylan shakes his head, his voice calm but firm. “It’s going to be two long days of riding if we’re to get to our destination on time, and my horse is the strongest. Mathis’s horse will get worn out carrying the both of you before we reach Narathia.”
I open my mouth to argue further, but the logic of his words stops me. Still, the idea of spending the next two days so close to him, especially after everything that happened last night, makes me uneasy. I begrudgingly nod and stare up at the gigantic mare, trying to figure out how I can mount her on my own when I feel his hands wrap around my waist and easily lift me into the saddle.
“Rylan, no! Your hand.”
He slides in behind me, settling into his seat, his arms coming around me to grab the reins. “I’m fine. Thanks to you, Eirabella,” he whispers, dark and deep against the shell of my ear.
I let the shiver spread through every blood vein as his scent envelops me. I could easily become intoxicated in it, dragging my face up his bare torso, just breathing him in. Shaking my head at the thought, I ask the question I’ve been longing to ask since the moment he uttered the name, “Who’s Valora?”
I crick my neck back to look at him as I feel him stiffen, but he does everything in his power to avoid my eyes. As if not even hearing my question, he lets out a loud whistle, and Grellor and Yosef trot out ahead of us, before his horse falls in line after them, Mathis waiting until we pass to follow behind.
I swallow, knowing I’m not going to get the answer I’m looking for. The next words are heavier on my tongue, and it’s a few minutes before I say them. “Your Strength is fire.” He doesn’t say anything, so I just continue. “Why did you let yourself burn last night? You could’ve controlled it.”
His voice is steady, almost detached, as he replies, “I toldyou. You needed to know if you could use your magic. I got you your answer.”
“But surely there were other ways to test me,” I press, unable to comprehend the lengths he went to.
“None as effective,” he says simply. “It’s not like you haven’t been trying since you left the village.”
He knew. Of course he knew.
“Thank you,” I finally say, my voice quieter than I intended.
Rylan’s response is just as subdued. “Don’t thank me. I just did what had to be done.”
The morningon the road drags on seemingly forever. Now that I know our destination, my thoughts are focused on why I’m expected there. The king’s courts are there. The king’s dungeons. Maybe this all really does have to do with Samfer and his, and my, crimes. But Rylan said I was going to be safe.
Impending incarceration in the city dungeons doesn’t sound “safe,” especially considering King Halford’s legendary stance on no tolerance for criminals. My thoughts whirl like a tempest, circling around one simple, overwhelming truth. And before I know it, I whisper, “I’m scared.”
I don’t even realise I’ve said it out loud until Rylan shifts slightly behind me. “What about?” he asks, his voice low, but with an edge of genuine concern.
The question hangs in the air, and for a moment, I hesitate, unsure if I should even bother explaining. But the frustration, the fear, everything that’s been building inside me breaks free. “For just one moment,” I say, my voice trembling, “put yourself in my shoes.”
