Chapter 10 - Cammon #2
I stared, torn between confusion and disbelief as she plucked a few leaves from the nearest branch and stuffed them in her mouth.
She grimaced as she chewed once, twice, three times, then spat the sodden mulch on the ground, bent over again, and blew an open-mouthed breath.
Just like at the first signpost, the tiny drawer must have popped open, because Glory’s eyes shone with triumph.
Her smile was dazzling, but I was too itchy and annoyed to be dazzled.
“We done here?”
Her glow dimmed—a small part of me regretted it—and she nodded as she slid the clue to the next landmark into her pocket.
I cleared my throat, caught myself scratching my neck, and strode towards the overgrown lane.
“There’s a clearing not far from here where we can make camp for the night.
” I’d hoped to make it farther, but the thought of walking all evening with this blasted itch was enough to make me want to tear up these protected lilacs out of spite.
I paused and looked at her. “Unless you think we can make the third landmark by nightfall?”
Glory shook her head. “I need to consult the maps and decipher the next clue, but from what I recall of the notes, the third landmark is much farther outside the city limits.”
I scowled. Of course it was. My earlier optimism now struck me as naive. “Then let’s call it an early night. We can start all the earlier tomorrow.”
I hoped it wasn’t a smile tugging the corner of her mouth when she said, “I thought you had greater ambitions for our first day. There has to be a least a few hours of good walking light left.”
A direct reference to my earlier confidence. I scowled and turned my back on her. “Don’t push me, mage, or I won’t let us go below a jog for the rest of the journey.”
I was still itching by the time we made camp, and by the time I stuffed some food in my face, I was miserable, not tasting a bite of the dried meat and not accepting any of the candied fruit Glory offered. Who brought candied fruit on an expedition like this one?
I did accept the nip of brandy from the small bottle she handed me. It was decent quality liquor, but unfortunately, did nothing to help my rash.
My mood remained thoroughly foul as I watched Glory wrestle with her absurdly large tent.
On a better day, when my neck—and jawline, and earlobe, and shoulder—weren’t covered in burning blisters, maybe I would have found it amusing.
The woman clearly had no idea what to do with any of the pieces she’d carted with her, and the set of written instructions only took her so far.
I wasn’t about to help her, but the longer she carried on, the more infuriated I became that her king had dumped her on me.
I’d concede that Glory had so far tackled the clues with more finesse than I would have, but by the devils, there was more than one way to open a box. I would have suggested we smashed the thing open if I hadn’t thought her glare might, in fact, impale me.
The best I could say about her, aside from her beautiful enthusiasm, was that she looked good without her waistcoat on.
Though what caught my attention more than her curves was her hair.
After all our walking, her bun had loosened, and the stray tendrils fell around her face in soft curls.
I saluted their bravery, certain that if she’d noticed them, Glory would have threatened to chop them off unless they returned to their proper place.
She finally wrangled the tent, and only then did I notice her bedroll and blanket.
Even from here, I picked up the traces of magic emanating from the blanket in warm waves.
Because of course the city mage couldn’t rough it for a few nights.
I didn’t know whether to be impressed that she’d carried that garbage the entire day without complaint or disgusted that she’d bothered.
I’d never met a mage who didn’t take advantage of their power to remove the most minor inconveniences, and this one was no exception.
Over the next few weeks, we would be trudging through field and forest, mountain and muck.
There was no place in the wilds for someone unprepared to face the hardships.
“Do you need me to look at that?”
Her hesitation—as though she were forcing every syllable—tugged me out of my grumbling judgements.
“What?” I snapped.
“Your neck. The rash. I might have something in my pack that—”
“It’s fine,” I lied. If I’d been able to make the salve for myself I would have done so already, but I wasn’t here to be pampered.
“If I can’t handle a little itch, I have no business calling myself an explorer.
” I shot a glower at her enchanted bedding to make my point clear.
A bit harsh, maybe, but it was better she have her eyes opened now than when she was waist deep in bog water getting sucked on by arm-length leeches.
Or maybe my mood was more foul because of this itch than I’d realized.
“Right.” Her voice had turned cold. “Good night, then.”
I grunted and rolled to put my back to both her and the fire. The night was quiet, the stars bright, the moon shining, not a whiff of predator to be detected. I was confident that this close to the city limits, we would pass the night safely.
I was less sure that my brush with the wingleaf would allow me to spend that time with any true rest.
As my eyelids sagged shut, all I could hear was the mage tossing and turning in her fancy tent, and I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be much fun for either of us.