Chapter 28
DAMION WOKE HER in the dark hours of early morning. “Your watch.”
She nodded, shaking off the heaviness of sleep. He lay down, falling at once into snoring.
The fire ebbed low, the air chill. She stirred the embers and threw a few more branches onto the flames.
They hadn’t come as far as she’d hoped they would, not yet across the gulf.
But Anqa and Gur needed to rest and hunt and then rest some more.
They’d settled in a damp hemlock forest on a tiny island not far from the southern coasts of the Pixie Lands.
Or so Honey claimed. They sheltered beneath a high cliff, where Anqa could roost. Against the moonlight, the hulking silhouette of the roc cut an imposing figure, like a giant gargoyle.
Gur snoozed not far off, having licked the blood from the boar he’d eaten earlier off of his paws.
Still, the lingering iron tang churned her stomach.
The fire crackled steadily, its glow illuminating Honey’s pretty, slumbering face. The nymph lay curled not far from where Damion sprawled. Magda took a long drink from one of Damion’s water gourds. He’d also brought ropes, a couple of blankets, and some food from Poppy.
She nabbed a hunk of bread from the basket and strolled out of the firelight’s reach.
Kaelan was on his back on the opposite side of the fire from Honey.
She squatted down next to him. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and rhythmic.
“Want to do some training?” she said, tearing apart the bread.
His eyes opened. “I should be sleeping.”
“But you’re not,” she said, holding out half of the bread to him.
He propped up on his elbow and took the bread. “It’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“What?” she asked, then took a bite of the bread.
“Our . . . connection,” he said, sitting up.
“Unusual for a Pixie, yes,” she said carefully.
His face fell. “But I’m not a Pixie.”
She stood up. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“Don’t you think we should?”
She snorted, smiling. “Why?”
He touched the raised dragon-knots on his coat. “It’s not the same as it is with him.”
“Are you asking or telling me?” she said.
“Why is it different?” he asked.
“Because you’re not him,” she said, standing. “Now, get up, so I can kick your ass.”
She strode away, finding a private spot to relieve herself. After walking the perimeter, she met Kaelan down at the stream just below their camp, where he was cupping water into his mouth.
He started to turn, but she thrust out her foot, hitting him in the back and knocking him into the water.
He came up sputtering and dripping. “Why did you—?”
“You’re off-balance and off-guard.” She hopped across a couple of stones and took position on a large flat one. “Draw your swords.”
He glared up at her, rivulets cutting over his face, tracing his scar before running down his jaw and dripping.
She held out her hands. “All I want you to do is knock me off this rock.”
“Then why don’t I just push you?”
She smiled, shrugging. “Go ahead and try.”
Lazily, he reached out to hook her knee with his hand. She caught his wrist, spinning him, and pushed him in the back, knocking him into the water again face-first.
When he came up, he had his swords drawn.
She smiled and released her daggers.
Until the sun rose, they sparred. He came at her from every angle, and it was quite a relief to her that she was able to stay on the rock.
In truth, she needed the training more than he did.
Though it generally did little good to train with someone of lesser skill, she was so out-of-shape and bruised by her recent battles that simply defending her stake on a slippery rock required all her effort.
Poor Kaelan was soaked. At some point, he’d discarded his coat and his shirt.
He bled from his lip and a cut over his eye and numerous nicks covering his arms and chest, mostly from falling, though a few of them were from her daggers.
Each time she grazed him, she let him get a blow in too, because she didn’t mean to cut him.
Her control had suffered during her exile as much as her strength and speed.
As the pink light of day broke over the treetops, Kaelan moved in again from her weak side, forcing her into an awkward crouch. Her feet barely kept purchase on the uneven rock as she knocked one sword away and then the other, and then threw her elbow into his jaw.
Again he went flying, splashing into the water.
She huffed and retracted her blades, running her hands over her face. “I think that’s enough for the—” When her hands came away from her eyes, Kaelan was still under the water, hung up on a clutch of fallen branches along the bank. “Kaelan?”
She leapt off the stone and into the water, angling beside him to get under his shoulders and head and to pull him up to the surface. As she did, he hooked his arm around her knees and pulled her legs out from under her.
Should’ve seen that coming.
He’d even put away his swords, which she might’ve noticed if she’d been paying attention.
Locking her arm around his neck, she twisted him over, so they both plunged under together. She flattened him to the bottom, driving her knee into his back as she came up. Then she waded to the bank.
He came up grinning.
“I don’t know why you look so happy,” she said, dropping into the grass.
He slogged towards her. “At least I’m not the only one who’s drenched.” He plopped down next to her, raking his wet hair away from his face. “There’s still time you know,” he said.
“Time for what?” she asked.
“To change your mind.”
“You don’t think I should vie for Radiant?”
“I think . . .” he said, picking up his shirt and wringing it out, “that you might be happier if you didn’t.”
“Do you really think I could be happy abandoning everyone here?” She squinted over at him, water stinging her eyes. She swiped it away. “Besides, if Lavana becomes Radiant . . . Endreas will join with her.”
“To fulfill the old prophecy,” he said, tugging on his shirt. “You don’t think he’ll wait to see if she actually takes the Crown?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you’re doing this because you want to join with Endreas?”
“No. I’m doing this because I don’t think that his definition of peace is the same as mine.”
“Then you’re doing this to stop Endreas from fulfilling the prophecy?”
“I’m not even sure I believe in prophecies,” she said. “I mean, look at you. You’re supposed to make the King bow, but you can’t even knock me off of a rock.”
He looked momentarily offended, but then he laughed. “It’s true. I’m not a warrior.”
“And what if they’re wrong? What if neither prophecy is true?
If Lavana does become Radiant and Endreas joins with her, even if she’s already the Crown, no one would stand for it.
Well, some would, if they were paid well enough.
But others would revolt. I can’t see any way past the bloodshed.
I have to be honest with you, Kaelan. I need your help to succeed, but I don’t want war.
I don’t care what any prophecy says. And I can’t see how dealing with Endreas or the King will lead to anything but persecution of those who have fled them.
Once I am Radiant, you are going back to your forest with your nymph.
You were safe enough there before . . . I’ll find myself another Prince eventually.
Hell, I can probably take Riker back from Lavana if she hasn’t already claimed him. ”
“Or if you kill her.”
“Or that,” she agreed. “But if I can avoid it . . . I will.”
A chorus of birdsong, chittering and sharp, swooping and melodic, low and lonely, filled the silence between them.
“And what if I don’t want to go back?” he asked softly.
She dropped her forehead to her arms, which were folded on her knees. “Please don’t—”
“You know it won’t work,” he said. “I can’t remain in hiding. And I’m being hunted, aren’t I? Someone will find me. I don’t want to bring that kind of danger to my home, my family. Anyway, I’m not sure there’s anything for me to go back to.”
“You can’t remain among Pixie kind.”
“Why not?”
She lifted her head. “For every reason you just gave. Your life will be in constant danger. And you can forget about freedom, and Honey. An unclaimed Prince leads to duels and battles. And you’re not a Pixie.”
“That doesn’t seem to make much of a difference.”
“It will if anyone finds out who you really are—”
“Then what? I go into exile?” he asked.
“That’s not a bad thought,” she said.
“Won’t the King pursue me?”
“The human world is bigger than most of our kind realize.”
“Or maybe I could join the Resistance,” he said.
“And do what? Weave them picnic baskets?”
The cords of his neck flexed. “You want me to run away.”
“I want you to not die,” she said. “Is that so much to ask? Why is everyone in this world so intent on getting themselves killed or killing someone else? The only reason I’m doing any of this is because I believe it’s the best way to prevent more needless death.”
“What about the needless death caused by the King?”
She groaned, starting to push up to her feet, but he grabbed her arm.
“You can’t look the other way, Magda. The Crown has been doing just that for generations and look where it’s led.”
“The King can do what he wants in the Realms,” she said. “And maybe Python and his ‘resisters’ aren’t as innocent as they seem.”
His hand slid away from her. “You’re defending him.”
“No. I’m saying there are always two sides to a story, usually more. What your father did to you was wrong—”
“He’s not my father—”
“But you’re making the same mistake he did,” she pressed on. “Don’t you see that? The same mistake that Endreas is making—”
His voice was flint-edged. “I didn’t realize Endreas was capable of mistakes.”
Her forefinger flew up. Her wolf blade snapped out, skimming the air in front of his lips. “Don’t do that. That’s not fair. There’s nothing I can do to stop how I feel or to stop you from prying into my heart. But since you can, you know that I left him. And I have no intention of returning.”
“But you want to,” he said darkly.