Chapter Thirty-Four
ABBY
IT’S HOURS BEFORE the rain ultimately lets up, and by the time we’re finally crawling out from underneath the tarp, the sun is just beginning to rise behind the trees.
I’m exhausted to my bones, and I don’t bother hiding it as I stand on shaky legs and drink the remainder of the water I’ve managed to collect. It isn’t much, only a third of the container, but it’s better than nothing.
“Well, that was eventful,” Kie says.
He’s met with silence.
Mason hasn’t spoken in a long time, just the way I like it, and I haven’t, either. There isn’t anything to say, and it seems that whenever I do speak, it only gets me in trouble. Especially when Mason’s taken it upon himself to read into my every word.
“How are you feeling?” Kie continues.
I assume he’s talking to Mason, but when I notice it’s me he’s staring at, I shrug and turn away. He doesn’t honestly care, and I’m not in the mood to entertain him. I’m barely functioning, and anybody with half a brain can see that.
Kie clears his throat, trying to draw my attention. He’s probably not used to people ignoring him.
I’m sure when he’s in his fancy royal estate, everybody rushes to do whatever he commands. This is likely the only time in his life he’s had to work for something, and even then, all he’s doing is walking through a forest so he can beg some god for…something. I don’t even know what he wants from Zaha, nor do I care.
The faeries are pompous, little assholes, and the shifters are grade-A douchebags. I haven’t had the misfortune of meeting a troll yet, but I assume they won’t be pleasant, either.
Mason begins putting away the tarp Kie set up last night, and I pick chunks of dried mud off my skin and clothes. I’m covered in it, so much that it feels heavy. Under normal circumstances, I'd want to wash it off, but after the river incident, I’m happy to continue the rest of this trip covered in filth. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever voluntarily undress in front of these two, and if I smell, that’s their problem.
Kie mumbles something to Mason, but he’s ignored.
I can’t lie and say I don’t enjoy watching it happen. I bet this is the first time Kie’s ever been so thoroughly ignored, and I’m pleased I get to witness it.
Kie huffs. “This is ridiculous.”
He rummages through his pack and pulls out the dried meat he and Mason have been eating. Well, the remainder of it. I helped myself to a significant amount while he was stitching up Mason’s side.
“It’s safe to talk now that we aren’t in the shifter lands,” Kie says.
Does he not realize safety isn’t the reason why I’m not speaking?
Silence stretches, and Kie sighs. Deep down inside, a small part of me feels bad for him. He hasn’t gone out of his way to make me as miserable as Mason has, but he’s getting treated just the same.
Actually, now that I think about it, he does deserve to be treated the same way. He’s the one who decided to gift me to a fucking god. That alone says much about who he is, and he doesn’t deserve my pity.
Mason throws something in my direction, and I scramble to catch the wraps I’ve been using on my knees. The skin looks terrible, but the fresh air was good for them. Dark scabs are growing in nicely.
I give them a quick wrap before shoving everything into my backpack and throwing it over my shoulders.
Despite knowing I’d regret it forever if I didn’t try to escape, I still feel ashamed. Getting caught in such a sad state was embarrassing, and I’m trying hard not to think about how pathetic I must seem to these two.
I’ve never considered myself to be a pathetic person before.
“How about a truce?” Kie blurts out.
I wish he’d stop talking.
He enters my line of sight and gestures between Mason and me. The shifter is standing several feet away, but I’ve been excellently pretending he doesn’t exist.
“Mason will promise to be kinder to you,” Kie starts, “if you promise to stop running away.”
I shrug, not wanting to be the first one to acknowledge Kie, before sneaking a glance at Mason. He’s pulled up his shirt and is prodding at his ribs, not paying attention to either of us. I can’t help but stare at the wound on his abdomen.
It’s mostly healed, and my jaw drops as he rips out the last of his stitches. This isn’t right, and I swallow down bile as I eye the dark-pink scar covering the area where his guts were exposed just a couple of days prior.
If humans could heal from such severe injuries in only a day or two, I can’t even begin to imagine how different we’d be. We’d be unstoppable.
I’d try my luck at killing Mason if I could heal so quickly.
“A truce,” Kie repeats.
He’s talking to himself, and it’s starting to get sad. He seems to come to the same conclusion as he storms toward Mason. Kie can be frightening when he wants to be, and I step back as he grabs Mason’s face and forces the shifter’s attention onto him.
The two are similar in height, and after seeing them fight, I’d say they’re pretty evenly matched. There’s still a constant power struggle between the two, though, one I’m quickly realizing is entertaining to witness.
Maybe that power struggle is why Kie is so into Mason.
I wonder who would fuck whom. My initial guess would’ve been that Mason would fuck Kie, but now I wonder if they would switch on and off, as they’ve been doing here.
Mason meets Kie’s gaze, and I wish I knew what was going through his head as he licks his lips and smiles. I’ve never seen Mason smile, and I’d say he has a nice one if I didn’t hate him so much.
He has one of those smiles that scream I know something you don’t know , which I’ll admit I’ve historically been a sucker for. I’ve always had a love for guys who treat me like shit, and they always have one of those smiles.
“A truce?” Mason asks, sounding amused.
Kie continues holding Mason’s jaw, refusing to let him turn away. Mason’s lips twitch as his eyes shift toward me.
I fight the urge to shrink into myself.
“And you’ll stop trying to run away?” Mason asks.
Is he actually considering this? I’ve already mentally decided that running away isn’t worth the trouble, but these two don’t know that.
After a moment’s hesitation, I nod. “Yes.”
Kie releases Mason, and the shifter works his jaw side to side, as if the grip hurt. I should remember not to get on Kie’s bad side.
Kie’s hands come together with a loud clap. “Great, then it’s settled.”
He’s beaming, his lips pulled into a satisfied smile. His violet eyes practically shine as he walks toward me, his muscular frame surprisingly lithe. When he gets within arm’s distance, I step away.
I don’t want him too close.
Mason scans my wrapped knees as he finishes the last of his packing. He’s evaluating my work, and after a long moment of stillness, he seems to decide it’s good enough and turns away. I suppose I should take it as a good sign he’s no longer going on about how he can smell my infection.
I’m sure the dehydration comments will begin again the second I pee, though.
I have not one bit of privacy between these two.
“Lead the way,” Kie chirps, gesturing for me to begin walking.
He and Mason have always been the ones to set our pace, and I don’t trust him giving that control over to me. It feels fake, but when a good minute passes and nobody moves, I start walking.
Kie and Mason quickly fall into step on either side of me. It’s a new walking position, and I can’t say I’m a fan. I prefer it when we walk in a straight line, and I don’t like how they crowd me in. It makes me painfully aware of how small I am beside them, especially when they hold silent conversations over my head.
An hour passes before I can’t take it any longer.
“So…” I start, trailing off.
Walking in a single-file line was more structured, and I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence between us with words. It was also helpful that most of our traveling was done at night. Darkness equals silence—everybody knows that—but sunlight begs for conversation.
“How long has Kie been in love with you?” I ask Mason.
The shifter peers at Kie over my head, his lips downturned. “Why does she keep asking that? What did you say to her?”
Kie snorts, sounding mildly offended by the accusation. I don’t see what there is to be offended about. There’s no shame in unrequited love.
“I didn’t say anything to her,” he says, quick to defend himself.
He then turns to me, and I pretend not to notice how his eyes trail from my head to my toes. Both his and Mason’s gazes have gone from disinterested to worried, and I’m not a fan of it. Concern coming from them feels disingenuous. It is disingenuous.
“I’m not in love with Mace. He and I aren’t—nor have we ever been—together,” Kie says, answering my question. “At least, not in the way you’re thinking. We share a forked mate bond.”
I nod, pretending to know what that is.
Samuel gave me what I thought was a pretty comprehensive explanation of mates and bonds, but he didn’t say anything about forked bonds. That’s probably what they call same-sex relationships here, or it’s some fancy royal term I have no reason to know or care about.
“She doesn’t know what you’re saying,” Mason says.
That’s rude of him to assume. He’s right, but he doesn’t know that.
Mason’s arm flies before my face, and I instinctively recoil. Despite our temporary truce, I don’t trust him. Not one bit.
He shoves away a branch I was just about to run into. “This explains why her face is all scratched up.”
Kie snorts as I scramble to touch my cheeks. It’s scratched up? I ran head-first into several branches last night, but I didn’t realize they’d leave a mark.
“What do you know about mate bonds?” Kie asks, ignoring Mason’s statement.
After the delysum fiasco, I know better than to answer that loaded question.