Chapter Eighty-Nine Daje
It was about three days into our journey that I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t meant for traveling.
I wasn’t meant for spending long days riding on a horse only to then sleep in a shitty inn for a few hours at night.
I wasn’t made for quick meals of dried meat, fruit, and nuts while the only warm food came from equally shitty taverns.
And I certainly wasn’t made for close quarters with a man who drove me up a fucking wall and a woman who I couldn’t ever tell if she was teasing or flirting with me.
But here I am, getting ready to end our fourth day of nearly nonstop riding with yet another stay at an inn where I’d likely have to share a bed with Cass and his cover-hogging tendencies.
I never thought I could miss something as simple as a soft towel.
Or a meal that wasn’t a questionable stew. Or, fuck, peace and quiet.
“At least it isn’t raining today,” Elora says, and for a moment, I worry I’ve spoken my grievances out loud.
My gaze tracks over her braided red hair where it hangs down her back, some strands having come loose from the plait.
My magic coils beneath my skin like it’s on the alert, perked up by Elora’s signature in a way that won’t let me forget just how close she is to me.
“Let’s hope that streak continues once we cross over the border,” Cass replies from our left, his horse choosing that moment to whinny as if in agreement.
True enough, the rain had been a constant companion the closer we grew to the north. It is expected in the late autumn season, but its predictability didn’t change the fact that traveling in the rain is also another thing I wasn’t meant for.
We continue on, riding in a silence that is all at once comfortable and not.
Adapting to not speaking for long periods of time didn’t come naturally to either Cass or Elora, though at least the latter didn’t send covert, suggestive glances my way.
My conversation with the prick back at the first inn had played on repeat in my mind until I was begging any gods that might hear my pleas to have mercy on me.
It isn’t necessarily that I don’t want Elora’s attention, nor is it that I find her anything other than lovely.
It’s that, frustratingly, I know Cass is right.
She doesn’t deserve someone only capable of being partially invested in whatever might be blossoming between us.
Bahira still occupies a portion of my mind that is tangled up in the space between oldest friend and longest yearning.
Though she and I had never truly aligned on when those feelings blurred between the two, a part of me had hoped—for far too long—that, eventually, we would find common ground.
That there was enough of myself embedded in that steel chest of hers that she might one day see me in the same way I saw her: magnificent.
Stunning. She was the chaos of a wild hurricane, and I was the eye of the storm, able to withstand her strength.
In theory, us falling together should have been inevitable. In actuality, it was anything but.
I had thought cutting her out of my life like a frayed thread on a tapestry would be for the best. But the problem, I have found, is that the thread I snipped was merely a portion of the one deeply woven within me.
And what remains isn’t something so easily ignored.
Even if I am starting to view it differently than I had before.
I love Bahira, yet that love can mean many things. Something that I foolishly have taken much too long to finally accept.
“Finally.” Elora’s sigh of relief as she spots our stop for the evening makes a small grin tug on my lips. “I swear on all the gods, dead and alive, that I will never again travel outside of my small bubble.”
“Is swearing on dead gods going to do anything?” I ask, enjoying her snort as her head bobbles from side to side.
“Probably not, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to include them.”
“That’s the sort of legacy I want,” Cass chimes in, tightening his hold on the reins as he urges his horse to slow. “Someone to find me so powerful that swearing on me, even in death, is good luck.”
“I’m afraid the road to being elevated to feared deity is quite difficult. Especially if you aren’t born into it,” Elora teases, and I huff a breath, mentally scowling at the retort I know Cass is going to supply.
“Quite a few people have likened me to a god, though the context was a little different.”
Elora tilts her head back to laugh, brushing against my chest with the movement.
Her scent—cinnamon and vanilla—laces my next inhale.
Once again, my stupid body reacts before I tell it to, and my fingers curl into her hip.
But if it bothers Elora, she doesn’t show it.
Instead, she looks over her shoulder at me, a smirk tugging on her pink lips.
We reach the small structure indicated on the map given to us by Sadryn.
There had been a note added in the margin stating that while this place seemed unassuming, its proximity to the border had made the residents of this settlement more wary of new faces.
Though it is true only mages can cross through the Spell, the uptick in missing people from border towns had made everyone jumpy.
As we traveled along the fae border, Elora insisting the northern beaches would be the best place to look for dragon glass, places had not grown friendlier.
Stares grew longer as the people sussed out whether our intentions were well-meaning or not.
It gave us no choice really but to only stay for a few hours’ rest. Cass had been given enough coin by the council to more than compensate for our stays, and he made sure to tip generously to hopefully avoid anyone giving us trouble.
So far, curious glares were all we had received.
The Inn, appropriately and simply named, is built entirely from dragon stone, its rectangular structure shining beneath the faint moonlight coming from above. Smaller buildings made from the same stone line the main road on either side, their insides glowing with amber light.
“I’ll see about getting the horses in the stable,” Cass says as we come to a halt. The hairs on my arms rise as the sensation of being watched washes over me, even though no one else is walking the dark road.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go alone.” My eyes scan the fronts of the businesses. An apothecary is next to the inn followed by what appears to be a weapons shop. A few unmarked buildings line the rest of the way, the sound of voices coming from them not the comfort it should be.
“Aw, worried about me?” Bringing his horse to a stop, Cass dismounts and walks over to take the reins of my own horse. I hesitate but relent when Elora pats the top of my hand.
“Let’s go secure our rooms so we can eat and get some rest before we’re back at it tomorrow.
” Sighing, I release the reins and slide off of the horse, reaching up to help Elora down.
Her hands plant on my shoulders as she swings her leg around and then dismounts, stumbling just slightly when both feet touch the ground.
“By the time I’m able to get off of a horse without any help, we’ll already be home. ”
I chuckle as my hands remain near her hips, making sure she is steady before letting go. “I don’t mind helping you.”
Her light gray eyes meet mine, and even in the cover of night, I can make out the pink that flushes her cheeks beneath her freckles. “I suppose it’s not the worst thing to be in need of your assistance.”
How else can I be of assistance to you? The thought comes on so abruptly, the tenor of the voice in my head so surprisingly deep, that I suck in a breath as I jerk back a step, leaving Elora to wobble for a moment.
Fuck. “I’m sorry,” I rush out, moving back in to do…
something. Anything. Elora just smiles as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before turning to reach for her pack.
I slam my eyes shut and silently berate myself.
Cass plants a hand on my shoulder, shaking me once and forcing me to look at him. His face, annoyingly, mimics my internal sentiments.
Elora and I watch Cass as he heads down a grassy side path to the back of the inn to look for the stables.
He hums a tune and quietly sings about our “glass adventure,” prompting me to shake my head as I whisper to Elora, “Let’s keep the chatter to a minimum once we go in.
” I reach over to take her pack. She doesn’t immediately hand it over, but when I arch a brow in question, she sighs and allows me to grab it.
Her posture immediately straightens without the weight of all her books.
“You say that as if I can’t help but to chatter.” At my responding silence, she glances over at me and then slaps her hand against my arm in response to my expression.
I snort while we climb the wooden steps to the tavern’s front door.
Pausing before it, I mentally recap where my weapons are—a dagger strapped to my belt and one slipped down into my boot.
Another in my bag and, finally, one given to Elora.
Dilan would have trained her to use it, but I know it’s been a while since she’s actually practiced with one.
Still, I lean down to speak close to her ear.
“Should things go south quickly, for whatever reason, do not hesitate to protect yourself with blade or magic.” Once she gives me a nod of confirmation, I take a deep breath and open the door.