Chapter 21
“I think we need a break.”
Daerios pushes the note, marked with his familiar, letter-perfect cursive, into the side of my laptop.
We’ve been sitting side-by-side in the Loker Reading Room for the past three hours, working on our Linguistics midterm project.
At first, I felt every pair of elven eyes scalding the back of my neck, but the longer I worked, the more deeply I sunk into our morphological search, the less their gazes burned.
I bend over and scribble back, “Breaking up with me already?”
Daerios rolls his eyes. He bunches up the note, tosses it at my forehead, and starts gathering his supplies. I do the same.
When we emerge into the early-afternoon sunlight, I ask, “So, what kind of break are we taking? A shopping break? A lunch break? A J.P. Licks break? You know, I don’t think noon is too early for cake batter ice cream.”
Daerios watches me skip down the library steps with obvious amusement. “I was thinking more along the lines of a hike.”
“A hike?” I snort. “What, we’re going to hike the scenic streets of Cambridge?”
“No. But I hear there are plenty of beautiful lakes in Massachusetts to hike around.”
“Daerios, we agreed to take a break—not a vacation.”
“I’m not suggesting a vacation. Just a little jaunt out of the Square. Get some fresh air. The gods know I could use some.”
I cross my arms. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to suggest a trip to Walden Pond.”
Daerios wrinkles his nose. “Heavens, no. That place is a tourist trap.”
Unbidden, I laugh, because the words tourist trap sound so ridiculous coming from an elf. “What did you have in mind, then?”
“Have you ever heard of Spot Pond?”
I consider. “No. Where is it?”
“About twenty-five minutes by car.”
“You have a car?”
“No.” He pauses. “But I have a horse.”
“A what?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
We’re standing inside a stable I didn’t know existed on campus grounds.
Above us, penned inside a spacious wooden stall, towers a raven-black stallion with white-tipped ears and a braided mane.
He exhales through his nose, stomping his hooves as excitedly as if there were a body for him to trample beneath them.
I fear I will shortly become that body.
“What?” Daerios asks, reaching out to pat the horse’s side. “Vorrok scares you?”
“Vorrok?” I turn to the elf so slowly it feels as if my head were attached to a clock’s face. “Black horse? You named him black horse?”
Daerios shrugs. “Seemed the logical choice.”
I shake my head. “The sheer thickness of your skull never ceases to amaze.”
“Does this mean you’ll ride with me?”
“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.”
“Well, you cannot ride alone, I’m presuming.”
I glare at him, then pull out my phone. “I’m getting us an Uber.”
Daerios catches my wrist, and I shiver subtly at his touch. I pray he doesn’t notice. “Wait. Come on. Ubers are so categorically dull; this will be an adventure.”
“I know exactly how your adventures usually turn out, Prince of Chaos.” I yank my wrist away. “I read all about Mykonos. I have no interest in being cursed into a green goblin.”
“Prince of Chaos.” He smirks. “I like that.” He leans closer. “How about a purple one?”
I growl, shoving Daerios aside and storming toward the stables’ exit.
“Wait, wait, wait.” He runs after me, footsteps light and creaky on wood and hay. His hand catches my wrist again. I spin to glare up at him and find his steely eyes inches from mine. “There will be no goblins. No curses at all. I promise.”
“We shouldn’t even be leaving campus. We have a project to work on.”
“Listen to yourself. We have a project to work on. Have you even seen Massachusetts outside of the Square?”
“I didn’t come to school here to explore the state.”
“No? Why did you come to school here, then? For the education?”
To infiltrate and destroy your species. “Yes.”
“Well, let me tell you something, Quinn. An education without experience is no education at all.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He leans closer. “It means that it’s time you get outside of your little bubble and see what the rest of the world looks like.”
We’re locked in a staring contest. I don’t want to think that what Daerios said is true.
Don’t want to admit I’m inexperienced, but—but there is something strangely tempting about climbing atop that horse.
About letting him take me somewhere new.
Over a year at this school, and all I’ve done is study and spy, study and spy, study and spy.
And those two objectives still take priority, but—
But maybe, if we go somewhere far away, I can forget about all of that. Just for a while.
“Fine.” I allow a hint of a smile. “Take me on an adventure, Daerios Ariar.”
The ride north takes an hour. We tear down dirt paths and paved backroads, Vorrok leading us through a patchwork of New England neighborhoods.
We pass stone chapels, shingled houses, picket fences waving American flags.
Human families play out in their front yards, tossing footballs or bouncing on trampolines.
All of it is set with a background of startlingly bright fall color—all crimson and honey and amber leaves whispering in the breeze.
But I can take in almost none of it, because I’m trying desperately not to die.
Daerios made us ride bareback, as all elves do. When I tried to protest back in the stables that it wasn’t fair to a beginner like me, he’d only smirked and scooped me up, throwing me over Vorrok’s back.
Now, I’m clinging to the horse’s neck in my best attempt at warding off certain death.
“Come now, Kallister, loosen up.” Daerios’s voice is butter against my ear. “You’re missing the whole ride.”
“That would be the point.”
“You’re fine. I promise. Vorrok is more than capable.”
To his credit, Vorrok is steady as a semi. Bicycles don’t scare him. Cars don’t scare him. A semi itself probably wouldn’t scare him.
“Any chance your magical elf abilities can just knock me out until we reach Spot Pond?” I ask hopefully.
Daerios sighs, pressing even tighter to my back.
And that right there—that is the worst part of this ride. Not the bumps and jostles. Not the near collisions. Not the heart-stopping speed.
The proximity.
Because there’s no space between Daerios and me right now.
Not even an inch. The full length of his hard chest and abs are pressed into my spine.
I feel them flex as he shifts to tell Vorrok to turn or slow down.
His arms encase my body. They squeeze me tighter, now, as if this gesture will somehow reassure me of my safety.
“How much further?” I ask.
“Not long, now. Why? Dreading the moment you’ll be out from under me?”
“More like counting down the seconds,” I mutter.
“I heard that, Kallister.” From behind, I can almost feel Daerios’s lips turn up into a smile. “Nobody likes a liar.”
“I’m not lying,” I bite back.
But I can’t stop the little voice from whispering at the back of my mind:
Darling, you’re lying to everyone—and to yourself worst of all.
Spot Pond arrives not a moment too soon. When Daerios draws Vorrok to a halt at the end of Middlesex Fells Reservation, I practically vault off the creature’s back. Only my legs get tangled up in his, and I end up falling sideways into the dirt.
“Very graceful,” says Daerios.
“Eat shit,” I reply.
“You do have such lovely manners.” He swings his leg over Vorrok’s back and slides flawlessly to the ground. He offers out a smooth-palmed hand. I ignore it, instead pressing my fingers to the crunching leaves and wobbling to my feet. I’m covered in dirt, but I made it. I’m alive.
I turn in a slow circle, finally taking in the warm colors shaking in the trees above us. Sunlight filters in through the leaves, shining down on a dirt path leading down through the forest. At the end of the path, I spy a glimpse of water.
Daerios steps up beside me, brushing my arm with his. “Welcome to Spot Pond.”