“That was one time, and the baker deserved it,” Rey said. “But you saw me at the palace. Men don’t usually turn into foxes, do they?”
“Not precisely, but talking foxes aren’t as rare as you might think,” Sabre said. He glanced between Rey and Eli. “Are you a part of this?”
“I knew your ancestor,” Rey said, graciously omitting the part where he’d run off and chucked the sword in the woods. “And I’m here, so yes, I’m a part of it.”
“And you and Eli?”
“The sword’s in Whet’s Forest,” Eli blurted, stepping between them. He gestured vaguely into the dark. “That way. We should get going.”
“We can talk about the fact that you kissed him while we walk,” Sabre said, and Rey wondered if he could hide in one of Unicorn’s saddlebags for the rest of the evening.
“We don’t have to.” Eli’s voice jumped an octave, and he cleared his throat. “Or we can talk about the fact that you married Laurent de Rue.”
“That’s a long story,” Sabre said. “About as long as yours. But I think if you’re kissing a Starian spirit, I might want to know.”
“Why?” Eli asked. Rey winced. He could see the moment the pain registered on both their faces, and he slipped between them, taking Eli by the elbow.
“We should find somewhere to sleep first,” Rey said. “Somewhere that isn’t this field. Strange things can happen when the Harvest Mother is dead.”
Sabre let out a short laugh. “The big, ugly thing they burn in the country?”
Rey shivered as a cold wind stirred the ashes on the ruined platform. “Try not to insult her.”
“She’s kind of an ass,” Eli said, and Rey groaned.
“Now we definitely have to leave.”
Thankfully, the Harvest Mother’s ashes didn’t seem to hold a grudge, and they managed to find Unicorn and head into the dark without being tangled by vines or dragged into the earth. Eli and Sabre kept looking at each other, the silence so heavy that Rey thought he might choke on it.
“Eli.” Sabre stared off into the distance, his gaze vague. “If I knew what Mother was doing to you, I would have…I wouldn’t have let it…”
“It’s fine,” Eli said. “It happened. We can’t change that.”
Sabre opened his mouth, but Eli pressed on, walking a few paces ahead with his shoulders squared and his hands fisted at his sides.
Rey hurried to keep pace with Eli. “You know he’s still recovering from realizing you’re alive.”
“Yes, I know.” Eli pushed his hands in his pockets. “I just can’t hear it.”
“What? That he cares?”
“That it could have been different.” Eli’s shoulders were slouching forward, and Rey recognized the sullen, stern look of the man he’d met at the border of Gerakia. He slipped an arm through Eli’s, and when he pulled Eli’s hand free and twinedtheir fingers together, he could feel the slightest tremor there. “That he would have done something if he knew. But he didn’t know. He didn’t notice. No one noticed. It shouldn’t matter what they would have done.”
Would Rey have brought the sword to Emeric if he had known Emeric would have gone to Tristan without it? Guilt twisted in knots in his stomach, and he looked away.
“Yeah,” Eli said. “You understand.”
“He cares now.” Rey squeezed Eli’s hand when Eli tried to pull away. “I care. I ran once, but I’m here, aren’t I? Didn’t you say when we first met that people should be able to change? That they aren’t just one thing forever?”
Eli groaned loudly enough that Sabre, walking just in the corner of Rey’s eye, turned with a look of alarm. “Can’t you let me be unreasonable?”
“Not if it makes you brood,” Rey said. “Broody Eli ties up perfectly innocent foxes and drags them into sword-fetching.”
“Innocent?” Eli’s mouth twitched. “You’ve admitted to at least ten crimes while I’ve known you.”
“Petty crimes.”
“I know you mentioned abducting a princess once.”
