17. Ilaris
Ilaris
Killian was still asleep when I woke, one arm tucked behind his head, bare chest rising and falling with an even rhythm. I felt a kinship to him now, a closeness born from our conversations that did nothing to fizzle out the want humming beneath my skin.
The cruelest of all was not being able to touch him, to feel the heat of his skin against my fingertips, to know the taste of his mouth, his fire, consuming me whole.
Desire coiled low and persistent. The strength of it made me wonder if I should be concerned.
Was there more at play beyond the blood oath?
Loneliness? Fascination? After all, I was a scholar, and anyone else would murder for this opportunity—to walk with one from an ancient age, to hear a firsthand account of a world swallowed whole.
Naturally, my fingers went to my sketchbook.
Settling back against the pillow, I drew him lying there.
Unsuspecting. Part of it felt like an intrusion, a breaking of privacy I couldn’t entirely justify.
Below the sketch I wrote the facts he’d shared with me.
None of the emotion, just the truth as it would be shared when I completed my manuscript.
What would I call it? Cultures and Traditions of the Ancient Giants before the Great Sundering?
Lengthy, but it would get my point across and cause many people to debate the book.
I didn’t expect to be believed outright, but the details I’d be able to share would cause a stir in the scholarly community and expand beyond it.
I’d rise to some level of notoriety, be it good or bad.
I’d likely be labeled as the scholar who always started a conversation and watched closely because of it.
He still hadn’t woken by the time I finished, so I stretched, dressed, and tested out my leg. It felt much better, walkable, giving me only a slight twitch of pain when I put my full weight on it. I’d be able to limp on it out of the village and toward the train station.
The train station. I pulled out the sack of coins, only a few left now. I wasn’t supposed to need money for this trip. The House of Scholars had provided for all my needs. But now?
A glint of gold met my eye, and I lifted my armor free, thoughts forming, my throat tightening.
I stole a glance at Killian’s sleeping form.
If I were to do this, and sacrifice everything, what would I gain?
A seat at the House of Scholars, to finally ascend to academic glory, which, in turn, would give me security.
But everything cost something. My mother had sacrificed for me, was I willing to sacrifice for my future?
There was only one way I’d make it through a journey to four sacred locations with Killian at my side.
When we were done, when we completed what he needed to finish, I’d have a story.
The truth—whether any believed me—would be worth more than a suit of armor.
The chest piece was most important to me.
I wouldn’t part with it. I’d start with the bracers that went around my upper arms. Surely those would be enough for a train ticket or two.
With one last glance at the sleeping giant who had become, against all reasonable odds, the most dangerous thing I’d ever wanted, I crept out of the room.
A tall woman stood in the main room where a few early risers had gathered over the first meal.
When I entered, I felt her gaze linger on me, sharp and intent.
She wore a blue headdress, brown hair hanging in soft waves to her waist. In her hand she carried a shepherd’s crook for catching wayward sheep or lifting them out of danger.
She was beautiful with pale skin that looked as though she’d never seen daylight, or perhaps she wore a veil.
I felt her eyes on me as I exited the inn, crossing the street to the blacksmith’s.
Killian was right, I still had freedom to move without invoking the blood oath.
Still, the memory of what had happened to me in the ruins lingered with me, and I unconsciously rubbed my chest as I entered the shop.
A few moments later I left again, a sack full of coins, my grandmother’s bracers gone.
My heart felt tight, annoyance rippling through me at what I’d done.
Secretly, I made a promise to myself. I’d return and buy them back, even though it was likely that by the time I returned, the bracers would have been melted down and used to forge a new treasure.
I was certain my mother hadn’t held onto the armor for lean years and leaner ones for me to trade it away for train fare.
The knowledge of what I’d done made me want to weep.
As I limped the few steps back to the inn, I caught sight of the woman in blue again.
She stood at the corner outside of the inn, not necessarily looking in my direction, but standing in a position where she had a clear view of the street and anyone coming and going. Perhaps she was waiting for someone.
Inside the inn, I slipped back into the room, and Killian’s piercing eyes met mine.
There was something that intensified the moment he saw me.
He’d dressed, and it was odd seeing him in a shirt for the first time.
He still wore the same pants I’d found him in, but he’d found shoes as well.
I’d expected the clothing to make him ordinary.
They didn’t.
The shirt only made clear how inadequately it fit, fabric stretching over shoulders, sleeves ending mid-forearm, the whole arrangement looking less like a man who’d borrowed clothes and more like someone testing the structural limits of them. He was no more human for the attempt. Only more vivid.
He didn’t speak, but I felt the edge of the question that lingered in his mind. I held up the sack of coins. “I have fare for the train.”
His brow knitted. “Ilaris. What did you do?”
Every time he said my name, something shuddered through me, pleasure and ache in the same instant. I turned my back to him, tucking the money inside my bag. “My armor is valuable.”
“It’s for your protection, not to give away.”
“I sold it, just a few pieces.” I faced him. “Do you propose another way we travel?”
A flicker of emotion passed over his face, brief and contained, and he stepped closer. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. My pulse was not behaving.
“I appreciate what you’ve done, but there’s no need. There’s always a choice. We will find a way without you giving away what is important to you.”
I blinked. “How do you know it’s important? I’ve told you nothing about my armor.”
“It’s logic. You carry it. Something cumbersome, yet you’ve taken the trouble to have it here on a short, scholarly excursion. It means something. I imagine it would have been just as easy to leave it at home.”
I was struck dumb that he was attentive to something so simple.
Actions, not words, told him everything he needed to know.
Sitting on the bed, I tugged on the boots and tightened the breastplate.
Tossing my braid over one shoulder, I picked up my bag.
“Let’s go. It’s half a day’s walk to the train station, and Jasper is waiting for us outside. ”
He didn’t press me, only opened the door and let me lead.
Outside, the woman in blue had not moved.
I felt her gaze travel to Killian, watching him with a quiet intensity.
I quickened my pace as much as my leg would allow, hoping I was walking the right way as Jasper joined us.
He’d slept in the barn and came out licking his chops.
I dared not wonder if he’d stolen a chicken and made a feast out of it.
In his smaller form, it was easier to overlook that he was something else.
More than just a dog. But as he grew, there might be questions. It was best we stayed in remote lands.
The smoke appeared before the smell did—a dark column rising from the south, black rather than white. Fire. I glanced at Killian, who picked up the pace. I matched his speed, even though my leg complained. Slowly the choking stench of burning filled the air, thick, billowing columns of black smoke.
It reminded me of yesterday, the bone creature burning in the wood, the trees taking on the heat. A shudder went through me.
“Wheat is burning,” Killian said at last, slowing.
I chose my next words carefully. “Why do I get the feeling this had something to do with us? Do you think the fire from the forest spread?”
He did not flinch. “In this direction? I am unsure. It is possible, though.”
I nodded. “Wheat is food. The fields down here likely feed many. Unless there’s a feud going on I’m not aware of, unrest across the country happens from time to time, but I’ve ignored political sparring. I’m not sure what factions of the government might control this.”
“Some things haven’t changed,” Killian said. “If someone set the fields on fire to be vindictive, it’s probably best we get far away from here.”
Food on fire. I thought of life in the poppy fields.
I thought of my mother, refusing to sell the armor so we could have food, while I gave it up so quickly to fund my journey.
Killian’s quest. Our quest. Anxiety spiked as we passed the burning fields, and I pulled my cloak over my mouth and nose to protect them.
The question still pressed against my mind.
This wasn’t because of political factions. This was our fault.
Without warning, Jasper leaped through the air, growing to the size of a horse in a flash.
“We need to move faster,” Killian explained.
I mounted Jasper’s back as we set off at a run.
A lingering question bloomed in my mind as we fled. How did Jasper know we were going to run? How did he shift so quickly? It was almost as though he could read minds, a silent communication. Was that possible?
I mulled over those thoughts as we fled the burning fields. Oddly similar to leaving Vold and leaving the forest. Would we leave everything burning behind us?