Chapter 17
The sun sinking between the dense trees unnerved me. The deeper it fell, the darker the forest became. It was too much like that first night after the Rift opened, back when I had acted like a scared little girl who’d had to grow up too fast or end up another skeleton picked clean by myths.
The flames of the campfire Atlas had built danced wildly, their shifting light casting monsters of shadow across the trees. They clawed at the darkness, as well as at my nerves.
I could feel his eyes on me and though he hadn’t said a word, I knew he had caught me flinching more than once.
We ate in silence; cheese, bread, and cured meat washed down with cool creek water. Every flicker of the fire made me tense, my hand twitching toward a knife that wasn’t there. Realizing what I had done, I jerked back, embarrassed.
“Are you sure we’ll be safe here?” I asked, unscrewing the top of my water bottle but keeping one eye on the shadows beyond the firelight.
“There’s no need to be afraid, Alexandra,” he said evenly. “I can fight off anything foolish enough to approach. No one will come near us, and if they do…” His lips curved in a faint smile. “They’ll regret it.”
I hated how much safer those words made me feel, although I would never admit it.
“Must be nice to be you,” I muttered.
“I also have excellent hearing,” he replied dryly, shooting me a side-look before taking a long drink from his own water bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the firelight glinting off the sharp lines of his face.
When he leaned forward to toss another branch onto the flames, the light flared across his features, sculpting shadows along his regal cheekbones and igniting a faint glow in his eyes.
He looked so human, I questioned what else he could be?
His expressions came so naturally, the way his brows drew together when thinking, the way he ran a hand through his hair when frustrated, or how color warmed his cheeks when amused.
It was disarming.
A shiver ran through me, despite the heat of the fire.
He frowned and reached into his belongings, pulling out another blanket.
“Here,” he said, handing it to me.
“Thank you.” I took it, wrapping it tightly around my shoulders. “Are you going to tell me why we’re out here yet?” I asked, unable to hide the edge in my voice.
“Tomorrow,” he said simply, staring into the fire. “Tonight, I wish to discuss something else.”
I raised a brow. “And that is?” I asked, not expecting the answer I received.
“I want to know more about you.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “More about me?” I repeated, my shock easy to hear. He glanced over to me, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“You seem surprised that I would ask.”
“I guess I am,” I admitted, before going on to say, “Especially considering you still have my journal. He inclined his head in silent acknowledgment. There was no attempt to defend himself. He just let the admission sit between us, as if he wanted to move beyond it.
“The part of your life I’ve read begins after the Rift,” he said. “What I want to know is what came before.”
That made me smile, just a little. Somehow, the question felt genuine, like he was trying to bridge the distance between us rather than exploit it.
“To be honest, there’s not that much to tell,” I said with a shrug.
“I doubt that,” he replied, picking up a twig and tossing it into the fire before twirling another between his fingers.
“You wanted to be a veterinarian, didn’t you?”
I nodded before telling him with a weighted sigh, “Seems like a lifetime ago now. But yes, it was my dream.”
“It’s a very selfless path,” he mused, his voice softer now.
I huffed a small laugh when I thought back to why I wanted to work with animals.
“When I was little, all my favorite people were the ones who had pets. I had so many stuffed animals that I barely had room on my bed for myself. But I’d still say goodnight to each one of them before tucking them in.”
He smiled warmly, quick to tell me, “That’s sweet and endearing.”
“Nah, you probably think it’s silly.” I dismissed him with a wave of my hand.
“Not at all. Like I told you before, I too was once a boy.”
“Yeah, but I can’t exactly picture you with an army of stuffed animals you had tea parties with,” I smirked, making him chuckle.
“No, perhaps not,” he agreed with amusement.
“You seem more the type to sleep with a sword in your hand.”
He laughed fully, a warm, genuine sound that made something flutter low in my chest.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” I pressed in a teasing tone, and he raised his hand in mock surrender.
“What is it you say here? I’m pleading the Fifth.”
“That’s a cop out, but I will let it slide this once.”
He inclined his head in mock thanks before asking, “Tell me more.”
I grinned, leaning closer to the fire. “When I got older, I started volunteering at a shelter. I wanted to adopt them all, every stray, every scared little soul that didn’t have a voice.
While my friends spent weekends at the mall, I was cleaning cages and coaxing abused dogs to trust humans again.
” What I didn’t add was how it had also been my first taste of the cruelty that could exist in the world.
Seeing something so innocent and beautiful, sick or injured, broke my heart.
It got to the point where I felt guilty even leaving them once the day was done.
“What is it that draws you to them?” he asked.
“I think it’s the way they communicate with their eyes,” I said softly.
“It’s like you can see their soul. They’re innocent, even in their aggression.
A wounded dog, fearing for its life because of how it’s been treated so far, barking and snarling, it’s like a frightened child screaming, ‘Don’t come near me, please don’t hurt me,’ only in a different language.
Most aggressive animals are just products of bad ownership,” I told him, making him look thoughtful.
“That can be said of people, too,” he murmured, and I couldn’t help but agree.
“There’s cruelty in our world, a lot of it, as you’ve seen for yourself.
The apocalypse doesn’t always bring out the best in people.
But it feels like there’s no in-between anymore.
There’s one end of the spectrum, and then there’s the other…
moral survival or the deadly kind that lives by the rule, kill or be killed,” I said, thinking back to the amount of people I had encountered who had automatically treated others like the enemy.
The ones who would have killed for nothing more than a kitchen knife and a Snickers bar.
“You chose the first, keeping your moral compass intact,” he said quietly, making me blush.
“You’re a survivor. You weren’t born to pick up a weapon and know how to fight with it, but when it mattered most, when survival became the only game left, you bit back like a wounded dog.
You didn’t cower, but you charged head-on,” he added, and I laughed nervously at the praise.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever been complimented by being compared to a dog before,” I remarked, and to my surprise, Atlas actually looked flustered, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
“No, I suppose that wasn’t the right phrasing,” he admitted.
“It’s alright,” I said with a small grin. “The analogy was actually pretty spot on. I’m not an aggressor, I just have a strong will to live, I guess.”
“You’d be surprised how rare that can be,” he said, his voice taking on a softer tone as he continued, “There are many who would have given up in your situation, but you didn’t.
You survived, you adapted, and you turned that strength into something greater, helping others who couldn’t help themselves. ”
His gaze found mine across the firelight, warm and unwavering, like a spell being cast, weaving its way around us both.
“A lot can happen in three years, but don’t sell yourself short, Alexandra. I read your journal, and I was impressed, captivated even, by how thorough you were. It was an intelligent way of handling the hand you were dealt.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, blushing once more at the sincerity of the compliment and not quite knowing what else to say. He gave me a faint smile like he knew.
“Although I have to admit, you weren’t very complimentary of me in that journal of yours.”
I snorted a laugh, grateful for the lighter tone in which he said this.
“No, I don’t suppose I was. Who knows… if I ever see it again, maybe I’ll rewrite those parts.”
“Now that is interesting,” he said, amusement flickering across his features. “I wonder what you’d say this time.”
Jesus, just the thought made me avert my eyes from him, instead looking at my hands in my lap, questioning just how X-rated the rewrite would become.
Yeah, don’t think about that, Alex.
“Surely this isn’t you fishing for compliments, I’m not sure your ego could handle it,” I teased in return, thinking this was safer ground.
“Ah, yes, my ego,” he said, chuckling. “You speak of my arrogance often enough. What was it? An arrogant smirk you couldn’t stand and wanted to punch off my face?”
I winced, despite him currently displaying that same smirk. One that, admittedly, I no longer hated at all. Perhaps I never did.
“Well, Your Majesty, you will be happy to know your smirk is safe,” I replied, lowering my fists to make my point.
“Atlas,” he corrected gently. “Please, call me Atlas. You, of all people, have no reason to ever call me ‘Your Majesty’.”
I nodded, touched that he saw us as equals.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ventured, once more about to test the waters.
“Of course,” he replied, looking curious.
“Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?” he asked, making me glance at the flames dancing in front of us before making eye contact.
“Your world, your kingdom, the royal throne, all of it. You’re a King, and yet here, you went back to being a General. Why and what happens when you get back, is someone in your place?”
He huffed a quiet laugh.
“That’s many questions at once.”