Chapter 24
“HOW DID YOU KNOW WHAT to do?” Farrah asked as we settled down in our camp for the night. A small campfire was already burning, and we’d had dinner from our rations and water from our canteens a few minutes prior. “That the pixies had been disturbed and that we just needed to help them?”
I laid out my bedroll and stretched along the thin material, sword within reach.
I had already tried to spy Lord Ethan’s fire in the growing dark, hoping to glimpse it in the middle of the flatland, but I hadn’t.
The event with the pixies had delayed us, so he was farther ahead than I wanted, but we’d catch up the next day, and we’d only need to stay on his tail for a while longer.
“A mixture of experience and fairy tales,” I said. Which really meant a lot of listening to Dave talk about the old days, when magical ancients and folklores roamed the land and humans were few. “A little studying.”
“You lied, though,” Farrah said, tapping her chin.
Ugh. “Uh, what now?” I couldn’t hide my exasperation. Being accused of lying when I was actually being truthful about some things (while still lying about others) was growing tedious.
“There was no mysterious goo,” she said with a mischievous grin.
I blinked, then smiled. “Next time.”
“I’ll take first watch,” she said, standing from her own bedroll near the fire, quarterstaff in her hand. “Someone told me that adventuring isn’t only about the fun things. Sometimes it’s about the boring stuff, so I’m first.”
“I’ll go second,” Rylan volunteered before I could say anything.
Aven brushed past me to sit against a tree near the fire. “Third.”
Huh. Okay. I guessed that meant I didn’t need to stand a watch that night. That was… kind of nice.
I flopped onto my bed, tucking my arm behind my head, and relaxed.
Rylan had his lute across his lap, strumming the strings, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.
“We worked well together today,” he said, plucking out a melody. “It was neat how Ellinore told us what to do.”
Zig leaned on Rylan’s shoulder, stars in his eyes. “We did work well, didn’t we?”
I wanted to puke. My brother was besotted.
“You hear all the stories about how Ellinore the Brave vanquished this or beat that or shoved her sword through another thing. It was nice to help instead.” Rylan shook his lute, something dinging around on the inside. “I think one of those pixies left something in here.”
I laughed quietly. But Rylan was right. I hadn’t thought about what Ellinore the Brave would do at all during that encounter.
I’d acted on instinct, on what I knew. I hadn’t second-guessed myself or tried to be who I thought Aven wanted me to be or what the bards had portrayed me as.
It had all come naturally, and it had worked out in the end.
The pixies were safe. No one in our party was hurt, other than a few superficial bites and scratches. And we had emerged victorious.
For the first time in days I felt… hopeful. Like maybe we had a chance. That we could still save Zig.
I stretched my arms over my head and caught Aven observing me.
“Are you finally going to tell me what I did wrong that you’re so mad at me about?” I asked.
Aven frowned. “You lied.”
Ah, there went that good feeling. “So you’ve said. But I still don’t understand.”
Their shoulders rose and fell with a sigh as they watched the flames of our campfire. “When you apologized, you said you didn’t mean the things you yelled at us about our motives for why we were on the quest. But you meant them. And you weren’t wrong.”
I gulped. “I wasn’t?”
“No. Farrah wanted an adventure, and Rylan wanted to write a song. You shouldn’t apologize for pointing that out.”
They conveniently left out their own motive of reporting to the king, and while I wanted to know why, I bit my tongue. They were finally talking to me without venom behind their words, and I’d rather have that at the moment than an answer.
“Oh.”
“You should apologize for shouting and for not realizing that those weren’t our only motives. But I wouldn’t want you to say sorry for calling us out and doing your best to protect your brother. I… don’t want… You shouldn’t diminish yourself for anyone else. Especially not me.”
“Oh,” I said, softer.
“And I think I can safely say that we all want to help however we can. That we want to save Zig, too.”
Why did they have to be so perfect? I’d always been physically attracted to Aven, and I liked that they bickered with me, but why did they also have a good heart?
Why couldn’t they be… heinous? Or a selfish noble like the ones I’d encountered in the castle?
Or vaguely callous like the king and queen?
It would help save my own heart from stuttering all the time.
“And that’s why you wouldn’t speak to me for half a day? For my own good?”
Aven shrugged. “I also don’t like liars.”
And my heart stopped spluttering. It stopped altogether as fear and guilt gripped it.
I cleared my throat. “Any particular reason?” Hypocrite, I wanted to tack onto the end, but again I restrained myself.
Because, of the two of us, I was the bigger liar.
I was certain of that. And if the secret they had would jeopardize Zig, then I didn’t want to know.
They threw a twig into the fire. “Because I encounter them often in court. Even as the Pointless Princet”—I cringed when they spoke that awful moniker—“I still must be wary of people who want to be close to me. Just in case.”
“Ah. I understand.”
They propped their chin on the heel of their hand. “I don’t mean you. I… haven’t ever thought that about you.”
No. Too earnest. Too intimate. Deflect. Deflect. “Good to know. And I’m glad that you’ve come around and want to save my brother and not just observe and learn from the greatness that is Ellinore the Brave.”
Aven scoffed playfully. “And that’s my cue to work on my arrows. Those pixies pulled off their fletching.” They stood and walked away.
“And speaking of work,” Rylan said, setting his lute aside. “I should study the scrap of cloth.”
Zig woke from the half doze he’d been in on Rylan’s shoulder. “Oh yeah.” He removed it from his inner pocket and handed it over. Rylan inspected it with a furrowed brow and pinched mouth, then set it on the ground. He waved his hand over it, and that was when I decided not to watch.
If Rylan figured it out, that meant the candle would drop three marks.
We still had days of our journey remaining, even if I wasn’t certain of how many exactly.
We were running out of time.