Chapter 2
LIGHTNING
FELíNE AND KAL CONTINUED ON the rest of the afternoon in relative silence, both likely occupied with thoughts of the past. At least Felíne knew she was.
The mention of Kal’s parents had drawn him inward, and she was content to forego further conversation.
The light he’d recently shed on the shurii’s second form and her parents’ involvement in crimes against the people was difficult to grapple with.
Each answer she gained led to another handful of questions.
The more she learned, the less she felt she knew about her family, her heritage, and herself.
And then there was Kal’s past. Her family was involved in the murder of his.
Possibly even directly responsible. But again, that revelation only led to more unknowns.
Why had they been killed? Was it deserved?
She and Kal clearly had vastly different upbringings, but she couldn’t picture parents he obviously mourned deserving a death sentence.
Felíne knew so little of Kal; she didn’t even know where he was from.
Each new plausible explanation seemed worse than the last. Keeping a mental tally of the things she knew versus the questions she still had required more mental fortitude than she feared she was capable of.
All the thinking left her grumpy and tired.
The cluster of coniferous trees they’d navigated earlier in the day had been left behind near the base of the mountains. Despite the exposed nature of the landscape, they hadn’t encountered any other passersby, to her immense relief.
Kal directed Sig toward a hilly sloping plain, and Felíne could just make out a blanket of dense, dark green in the distance. The sun crept toward the horizon behind them, already kissing the mountain peaks, and its shadows stretched ahead.
Felíne studied the terrain. “Gods, it’s a forest.” A massive one, stretching what looked like forever in either direction.
“Yes. Stillwater Wood.”
“That’s where we’re going?”
Kal nodded. “Meress lies at its heart.”
“And you know the way?” she probed.
“I do, yes. Lucky for you. It’s a veritable labyrinth.”
A new bundle of nerves fired in Felíne’s belly. Stillwater Wood. If she entered there, the likelihood of her finding her way out on her own dwindled to near zero.
Her stomach rumbled at an embarrassing octave, and she cringed. Nervous gas.
“Everything alright in there?”
Gods. How mortifying. “Actually, no,” she said, setting her mind to something foolish. “I’m starving. Can we stop for the night?”
“Starving?” Kal asked, dubious. “You ate the last of our hard cheese and a biscuit less than an hour ago.”
Felíne twisted, eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to say?”
“That you shouldn’t be hungry,” Kal replied, unbothered by her feminine ire. “It’s only a few more hours to the tree line. We can camp inside the forest boundary.”
“Kalevar Kaine, I am hungry now. We’ve been in the saddle for days. I am tired, uncomfortable, and sore.”
“Wow. We’re using full names even.”
She wriggled to further emphasize her point.
Felíne could hear the grin in Kal’s voice when he responded again. “I suppose you expect that I jump to accommodate your request?”
“Well, I don’t need you to actually jump, but if you insist…”
Kal laughed. Felíne’s gut produced another dangerous gurgle. She needed to get off this horse. Now.
“Kal, I am so serious. We’re stopping. Right here.”
Felíne didn’t wait for additional teasing. She practically toppled off Sig’s back and strode with as much dignity and haste as she could toward a blessedly dense cluster of shrubs some way off their path.
Tending to her personal needs while on the road was a humiliating experience. While Kal gave her privacy, there was only so much she could do to prevent every little noise from broadcasting her activities to anyone within earshot. Which Kal most certainly was. Curse this diet of meat and ruffage.
When Felíne was finished—and considerably less gurgly—she returned to find Kal had unsaddled Sig and arranged their bedrolls next to a meager stack of kindling.
She sat down next to him and massaged her aching thighs, eternally grateful that he didn’t feel the need to inquire about her digestive habits. She watched him organize the camp space.
“I guess your full name did the trick. Is that really all I have to do to earn your compliance?”
Kal smirked up at her. “Next time, try my middle name and see how eager I am to please.”
Why did he have to be so attractive? She clenched her thighs together involuntarily, then winced at the resulting twinge of soreness. “What’s your middle name?”
“Barringer.”
Felíne sputtered, but Kal didn’t comment further. She took a moment to regain her composure. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“It’s a family name.”
“Kalevar Barringer Kaine,” she said. “Can I call you Barry?”
The smirk died. “No.”
She giggled. “C’mon.”
Kal rummaged through his pack and produced a metal pot.
He filled it with water and potatoes, sealed it with the lid, and set it near the unlit kindling.
“I was only ever Kalevar Barringer Kaine when I was in serious trouble. If my mother said those three words, I knew she meant business. But I was never, ever, Barry.”
Felíne wasn’t sure if the warmth that lit her chest was from the anticipation of a fire or the rare peek into Kal’s past. Her smile was mischievous. “Until now.”
“You’re impossible.”
She leaned forward sternly, one brow raised. “One might even say…unbarryble.”
Kal lifted his face to the darkened sky, probably praying to whatever god he worshipped for vast amounts of patience.
After a moment, he returned to his pack and grabbed his crossbow and a quiver of bolts. To Felíne, he held out the hilt of a short, sharp knife.
She eyed the blade. “Why do I need that?”
“Because,” Kal said, “you’re starving, remember? You’re coming with me to hunt you a second dinner.”
Oh, he was hilarious. “First of all, a rind of cheese and the crumb of a dry biscuit hardly count as a proper meal. Second,” she pointed at herself. “Sore and tired, remember? I’m not going anywhere.”
“Kitty,” Kal said, using his stern voice, “I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”
She sighed, genuine exhaustion creeping in now that her humor had faded. “I’m not alone,” she argued. “Sig’s here.” The horse’s ears twisted in her direction, hearing his name. “Please, Kal. I’ll be fine. I’ll watch the potatoes.”
Kal hesitated. He obviously didn’t want to leave her alone. But she needed him to. Desperately.
“Please, Kal.”
Kal unshouldered his bow and crouched beside her. “This bar here is your trigger,” he said, indicating the underside of the bow. “To span it, you’ll need this.”
“Span it?”
“To prime the bow for firing.”
Kal showed her how to use a specialized lever to pull the string back over the nut, fit a bolt, and engage the firing mechanism. The lever was only for her benefit. Kal had enough strength to span the bow without it.
“It’s loaded now, so be careful. If you see anyone other than me, shoot first. Ask questions later. I won’t be long.”
Felíne nodded, and he stood. “I’ll be fine,” she assured, hoping that would, in fact, be the case.
“Maybe season the potatoes? I’ll start the fire when I return. And don’t shoot Sig.”
Felíne didn’t have time to think of an appropriate retort before Kal disappeared into the dark. She watched the spot where she last saw him for a full five minutes before getting to work.
Felíne gingerly set the crossbow aside and dug through Kal’s pack. She slid a knife into her boot and slung the half-full water canteen over her shoulder. She dug some more.
Did they really have so little food left? No wonder he wanted to get inside the tree line. Aside from the potatoes, they were virtually out of edible supplies. The forest would offer an abundance of food.
Season the potatoes. Ha!
Felíne ran her fingers along a nondescript inner pocket, its drawstring tied tight. It took a few minutes to work the knot free. Inside, she found several small pouches filled with different herbs. She inspected each. Two were fragrant, but none were familiar.
Felíne knew the medicinal properties of many plants, as well as where to find them, but when it came to simple cooking, she had no idea what herbs paired well with which foods. She tasted each herb, surprised to find that most were tasteless. Her nose wrinkled at the bitterness of the last one.
“I’ll season your potatoes alright.”
She tipped all the herbs into the pot and stirred. She doubted they would provide any nutritional benefit, but it was better than nothing. Felíne didn’t know when she’d be able to eat again. Or drink, for that matter. She lifted the pot and swallowed a few hearty gulps of the broth.
Felíne took a potato out of the pot and began munching as she continued her preparation. She would leave Kal at least a few of the starchy vegetables. Guilt reared hard and fast as she contemplated him returning to find her gone, and the thought threatened to stall her.
But she couldn’t think of that. She had to act. Kal wouldn’t second-guess himself. He would do what was necessary. Even if it gutted him the way it was gutting her. She stuffed the rest of the potato into her mouth.
Sig was next.
Felíne grabbed his blanket and slung it over his back. The handsome roan head twisted around to look at her. Did he know? Why did his eyes seem so accusatory?
She patted his neck. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “He’ll be okay. I just need you to get me home.” Sig snorted.
Despite her words, unease twisted like a knife in her belly.
She ignored it and went to get the saddle.
It was heavier than it looked. Felíne braced herself, her legs screaming as if protesting their return to horseback, and heaved the saddle into the air.
She managed to get it halfway up but wasn’t strong enough to heft it onto Sig’s back. The saddle fell back to the dirt.
Felíne panted, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple. She wiped it away. “Gods, horse. When did you get so tall?”