31. Harper
31
That night, Harper found herself restless, twisting and turning under the folds of her cloak until she was tangled within it and unable to find comfort, still her thoughts, or banish a certain set of violet eyes from her mind. Aedon’s words had unsettled her, though she still refused to believe it would be as difficult as he suggested to approach the king for a way home. If she had a Dragonheart, and he prized them above all, surely that was leverage enough? There was no way other than to focus on that—to admit to anything else would be to fall into the hopeless void on either side of that knife edge.
The next morning, she rose early with the dawn mists around the dell, and went to bathe in the stream. The water was freezing, despite the time of year, but it was just the rough awakening she needed. As she hurriedly dried herself and scrambled to dress, the reeds stirred behind her. She spun around, and a frisson raced across her skin as she found herself face to face with the chest of a shirtless Aedon. Her cheeks heated and her eyes flicked to his muscled and tanned chest before she wrenched back to his gaze. His lazy smile widened.
“Sorry to disturb you. Morning.” Aedon covered a yawn with his hand.
“Morning, Aedon. I was just finishing up. Stream’s all yours.” Her voice was carefully even, and her attention locked on his face, refusing to be drawn to his muscled torso again.
“Actually, I came for some quiet time, to contemplate. Would you care to join me?”
Harper’s eyebrow rose. He did not seem the thoughtful type. “Sure.” It would be a while before anyone else arose or Ragnar needed her help with breakfast. Was this his way of inviting her back into the fold? She had worried they would cut her adrift and she would be left lost in a strange land. Much as it pained her, she needed them.
Aedon grinned, though his eyes were still clouded with sleep, and jerked a thumb over a shoulder. “I think this spot would work best.” He slipped on his shirt to her mingled dismay and relief. She followed him through the mist to a grassy hillock, carefully arranged her cloak on the dew-laden grass, and sat opposite him. She didn’t fancy having a wet behind for the rest of the day.
Aedon took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, the air whooshing from his chest as he gazed around with a sereneness Harper had not seen of him at any other time. “What?” he asked at her cocked head.
“You don’t strike me as the type to sit and think.”
He chuckled. “I’m not, but I do occasionally enjoy sitting and watching the world go by. Though the fog isn’t so great for that.”
Harper’s lip curled. He was irritatingly infectious, curse him.
“I hope I didn’t scare you with the tale last night, Harper. Or what was said afterward.”
“You didn’t scare me,” she said softly. “But I do worry that I don’t know what my place is here—or when I get back home.” The mist had closed around them. They could barely see each other, let alone anything else. It made her feel even more lost.
Aedon sighed, his smile full of sympathy. “Don’t dwell on it for now. Enjoy the present.” He shuffled closer until both sat cross-legged, their knees bumping, and reached out, palms held toward her hands. “May I?”
She slipped hers into his, looking at him with questions bursting upon her tongue. As their skin connected, she inhaled sharply. Her hands tingled—part attraction and part something quite unfamiliar—and she fought back another rush of heat across her cheeks.
“You felt that, yes?” She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He laced his fingers with hers, and his voice dropped, low and alluring. She leaned in. “That’s magic. Right there. I said you would be able to feel it. Mine is strong. I’ve lived here all my life and I’m a pureblood elf. My blood is charged with it. Yours will take a little while to accumulate within you, but soon, you’ll feel it. It’ll be like a stream of water filling up a vessel. Close your eyes. Try to imagine it, feel it.”
Harper did as he asked. Her breathing evened out—hitching for a second as he traced a circle with his thumb on the back of her hand and energy of an entirely different sort cascaded through her. Harper forced her attention inside herself for the source of this energy he spoke of. Deep within her it sat, lurking somewhere in her belly, but she didn’t know if that was what magic felt like, or whether it was the buzz of attraction at their physical contact.
Her bare hands stiffened, even in Aedon’s warm hold, and the frigid damp seeped through her cloak. She felt ridiculous, truth be told, glad to hide behind closed eyes. She still didn’t believe him. Not really. They sat there, motionless, until Aedon squeezed her hands. She opened her eyes to find him smiling at her with an open warmth.
“I know. It seems silly at first.”
She winced. Could he read minds?
“You’ll eventually understand what I speak of. Come. I’ll wager the others will be rousing soon, and I’m starving. I want to wake Ragnar so he’ll make me breakfast.”
She laughed. “You can make it yourself, you know.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “Why should I when I have the best cook this side of Keldheim tending my fire?”
Aedon helped her to her feet, then slipped his fingers from hers. Harper slowly pulled back her hands, acutely conscious of the sudden rush of cold the absence of his warm skin created. She was glad when he turned his attention away from her and strolled into the mists, back to camp.
Pull yourself together, she chided herself, pressing her cold fingers against her warm cheeks. There was no denying it. These elven males were attractive—ridiculously so—and utterly outside her reach. To even try would be folly. He didn’t feel bad, however. Would she know for sure if he was? Perhaps she was insanely na?ve to think that impressions could not be deceiving. Either way, she had started to develop feelings for the enigmatic thief. Where did that leave her morals?
“Harper?” As if on cue, he called for her through the mists.
Even the way he says my name, with that slight twang. Harper clenched her fists until her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palm. “Stop behaving like a lovesick girl,” she snapped at herself. This wasn’t like the tanner. She couldn’t indulge. There was far too much at stake for her, and she was already perilously out of her depth. “Coming,” she called and hurried back to camp, wrapping her cloak around her as if she could banish such treacherous thoughts along with the cold.
“Ragnar said it’s my turn to make the fire today,” Aedon said, scrunching up his face and glaring in the direction of Ragnar’s still resting lump close by, sticking out his tongue. “But it gives me an opportunity to show you how to use magic to make fire. Want to learn?”
“Yes!” Harper suddenly didn’t feel cold anymore, but heated with excitement at the prospect.
Aedon smiled and directed her to build the fire as they always would. “There’s really no shortcut for that,” he mused. Once she was done, he nodded. “Okay. Now’s the fun part. Hold your hands over the wood, like this.”
He demonstrated, grasping her hands and holding them above the fire, as if she were warming her palms on invisible flames. As she did, he shifted, moving behind her and fitting his body flush to hers. She tensed, suppressing an inhalation of surprise and trying to banish the tingles that spread down her arms as his palms covered her hands.
“I’m going to share my magic with you. Don’t be alarmed.”
She shivered as his warm breath brushed the nape of her neck, making something swoop low and deep within her, but she could not hold in the gasp at what happened next. It was a feeling she would not later be able to describe. An energy rushed through her, cold and hot, tingling and smooth, sending every nerve ending into overdrive.
“That’s magic, as it ought to feel.” She heard the smile in his voice. Energy rushed through her, sparking from her fingertips and arcing toward the fire. It was both there and not there, an ethereal light that disappeared when she tried to focus on it. An instant later, the fire sprang to life before her. She scrambled back, pushing into Aedon’s chest at the surprise of its intensity and the sudden onslaught of heat.
He caught them both from falling and laughed, steadying her with his warm hands on her arms. “How was that?”
“Magical,” she breathed out. “How?”
He cocked his head. “You have to summon the magic, but when you know how, that’s instinctive. I can teach you. You’ll accumulate magic like a spring accumulates water. Eventually, it’ll be happily bubbling away for you to draw on whenever you please.”
“He’s showing off,” Brand quipped.
“Well, it’s true. We’re born of magic, and magic is born of us. But perhaps you might need to learn it the hard way.” Aedon flashed her a grin. “Soon, it’ll be as natural as breathing to you, Harper.” He clapped his hands. “Right. Ragnar, how about breakfast now?” He grabbed a stick and poked the dwarf, who sprang from his bedding like Aedon had poked a sleeping bear—loud, displeased, and grizzly. Ragnar chased the elf around camp, shouting obscenities in a language she did not understand. Harper cackled as she ducked out of their way.
“Bloody elf!” Ragnar grumbled. “I was having a lovely dream. Warm hearth, proper bed…” He sighed.
“You can dream about it again tonight, Ragnar,” Harper said, grinning. “But for now, breakfast. I spotted some berries. Want me to fetch them?”
Ragnar’s face brightened at that. “Thanks, Miss Harper. You’re a good help. Brew a tea when you return. I’ll prepare the food.”
Harper dashed off to collect the crimson berries and set to making a tea, whilst Erika and Brand rose, completed their morning training, and patrolled the area as the mists burned away to reveal a rolling, grassy plain before them.
Aedon was nowhere to be seen, but he soon returned with some larger fruits. He tossed them toward Ragnar, who caught them with surprisingly sharp reflexes, though his fingers struggled to close around the furry, bumpy surfaces. Aedon bowed theatrically. “By way of apology for waking you up, dear sir.”
Ragnar grunted in reply and sent a stinging glare Aedon’s way, still looking unimpressed.
“Your first lesson of the day,” Aedon whispered to Harper as he passed her. “Never wake a sleeping dwarf, for they shall resent you ‘til the end of time.”
Harper stifled a smile. “Tea’s ready, everyone.”
“Good. I’m dying for a drink,” Brand said, taking the pot. “Ladies first.”
He offered it to Erika, who took it with a nod of thanks and brought it to her lips. She took a gulp, then immediately spat it out, showering them all in globules of spit and hot liquid.
“Idiot!” she snarled, whirling on Harper. “Why on earth would you make a tea of sun-damson berries?”
The camp stilled as they all turned to Harper. “What? I…”
“They’re poisonous, you foolish girl! You could have killed us all!” Erika tossed the entire pot onto the fire, almost extinguishing it in a hissing plume of smoke, and dashed to the stream to rinse out her mouth.
“I didn’t know,” mumbled Harper. The berries and the plant looked just like ones she brewed in Caledan—perfectly safe to consume. “I’m sorry.”
Ragnar patted her shoulder. “It’s all right, Harper. Don’t worry about it. I ought to have checked. You don’t know the flora and fauna here. All’s well that ends well—no one was hurt.”
“Lucky that Brand’s a gentleman,” drawled Aedon. “If he’d have quaffed it all himself, he’d have paid the price.”
Brand swatted at Aedon, who dodged out of the way. “I’d have known.”
“As you were doubled over dying.” Aedon stuck out his tongue. Brand returned the gesture with a ruder one of his own.
“See?” Ragnar said dryly. “No harm done.”
“Erika’s furious, though,” Harper said in a small voice, her eyes downcast. It tasted bitter, the frustration she felt—towards Erika and towards herself. This place was still so foreign to her that she still felt as though she was drowning but for the support of Aedon and his friends. Feeling so dependent on others stung, and she resented it. Failing them—having them think her weak? Even worse.
“Hmm. She’ll be fine. A little thing like an attempted poisoning won’t?—”
Harper glared at him, eyes full of hurt.
“I’m joking! She’s survived far worse. Believe me.”
“All the same, I think I’ll leave the cooking to you.” She was done. Done before words she couldn’t take back spilled from her mouth. Harper clambered to her feet and retrieved the pot from where it had bounced, then went to a different part of the stream, far from Erika, to rinse it out and fetch clean water. That would have to do for breakfast.