CHAPTER 10 TYCHO #2
Before I can shoot, an ice- cold breeze rolls through the trees, and I go still. Malin is frozen in place beside me, his own arrow locked against his bow. His gaze shifts to meet mine. I let out a slow breath, watching to see if it clouds in the air— usually the first clear sign of scravers.
It doesn’t. The air settles, making me wonder if it wasn’t very cold at all.
For a long moment, Malin doesn’t move. Then his eyebrows go up, questioning. He doesn’t want to spook the deer, but I know what he’s asking.
I glance up at the stars, but there’s too much tree cover here. I could send magic into the air to see if anything is there, but if it’s scravers, they’ll follow that magic right back to me. I don’t want to make us a target.
In the distance, someone laughs. It’s not Jax, but we’re too far for me to tell if it’s Leo or Sephran.
I look back at Malin and give a little shake of my head, then nod back toward where we saw the shadow.
But this time, my focus is on the feeling of the air on my skin, on the night sky above.
Nakiis, I think, wishing I could speak mind to mind the way he can. I learned how to recognize the feel of his magic, but I don’t sense it now. Is that you?
Another breeze rustles through the woods, and my heart jumps. But this one isn’t cold at all. Those shadows ahead move through the trees, finding moonlight.
Not deer or elk at all. Wild turkeys.
Beside me, Malin’s bow snaps hard. A second later, I hear the punch of impact, and the surviving turkeys scatter wildly, making a racket of squawking as they scramble through underbrush and attempt to fly.
I could hit another, but there aren’t many of us, and I don’t want to waste the meat. I let the tension out of my bowstring, then shove my arrow back in my quiver. “Nice kill. You didn’t need me.”
“Nah.” He scoffs and strides through the trees. “But you needed something to do.”
I sigh and follow, though he probably doesn’t need help carrying one wild turkey. “That obvious?”
“Only to me.” He reaches the dead bird and yanks the arrow free. “Seph too. Probably. Oh, and Leo. I don’t really know Jax, but I’m sure—”
“Mal.”
He grins, wipes the arrow in the brush, and shoves it back in the quiver. “Trouble in paradise?”
We’re alone out here, and way too far for the others to hear, but I flush anyway. “I don’t know.” I hesitate. “I was gone so long. Maybe . . . maybe too long.”
He picks up the bird by the leg and begins to walk back toward camp. “I’m sure riding fifty yards away from the group made that better.”
“Shut up.”
He whistles low, through his teeth. “And here I thought I was babysitting the recruit. I didn’t realize I’d have to babysit y—”
I shove him in the arm and he chuckles.
Unfortunately we’ve come into view of the others, and I realize they’re all looking at us. Leo’s eyes are on the turkey, and his expression lights up. But Sephran’s gaze is still cool— especially when he leans in to murmur something. Beside him, Jax’s eyes go just as cold.
I nearly stop short.
“Silver hell,” Malin mutters. He gives an aggravated sigh. “Come on.” “What?” I grumble. “Why do you sound annoyed?”
“Because a month ago, I could just pull a flask from my saddlebags and let you all work this out.”
I flick my eyes skyward. “You still can, Mal.”
“No. I’m a senior officer.” He jerks an arrow out of his quiver and whacks me with it again. “That means I’ve got to deal with it.”
This time, I snatch the arrow right out of his hand. “No. You don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Hey.” Malin grabs my bracer, pulling me to a stop. We’re still out of earshot, but the others can see everything we’re doing. I’m very aware of Jax’s gaze . . . and Sephran’s. Leo is staring with the unabashed curiosity of a recruit who senses trouble.
“Let me go,” I say, and the words almost come out like a growl.
For a moment, he doesn’t, and I wonder if we’re going to have conflict.
The weight of honor and duty flicker between us.
I’m not a soldier, so Malin doesn’t outrank me.
But I don’t really outrank him either. Our roles are too different, our sworn obligations inconsistent.
He’s sworn to Emberfall— but I’m sworn to the king.
“Look,” he says quietly. “I know I’m not in charge of you.” His eyes flick toward the camp. “But I’m in charge of them.”
In his voice, I hear the weight of his obligation— and I hear how deeply he feels it. There’s a reason Grey saw fit to award Malin this rank, and I’m seeing it right now.
Actually, I saw it ten minutes ago, when he saw my distress, then dragged me into the woods to hunt for dinner.
But I also hear the heavy implication behind his words: I can be a prick and prolong this— or I can let him do his duty and lead his men.
This isn’t a reprimand, but it stings like one anyway. I exhale heavily, my jaw tight. “I’ll fix it.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He lets go of my arm and claps me on the shoulder. We turn back for the camp.
Once we join the others, tension tries to cling to the air, but hunger takes priority, and for the most part, the soldiers ignore me. Leo helps Sephran field dress the turkey, and when they all vote for Malin to cook the meat, I don’t protest.
I actually don’t say much of anything at all. Malin’s words are weighing on me. I don’t want to be a problem he has to deal with, and I said I’d fix it.
So I sit, I eat, I keep my mouth shut. I listen to their gossip and hide my surprise at how much Jax participates— at how much Sephran and Leo welcome him into their circle. I keep my eyes on my food and offer nothing of my own.
But the whole time, I’m keenly aware of Jax, sitting on the other side of the fire. The light flickers off his hazel eyes, sparking in his hair, gleaming on the buckles of his armor and the few weapons he wears.
My heart gives a tug, but I dodge his gaze. I wait for him to say something. I hope for him to say something.
He doesn’t. So I don’t either.
But all night long, I feel the weight of his presence all the same.