Chapter 23 #2
“Listen to her, Atlas,” I mutter. “I don’t like them either.”
“Nooo,” he drawls, pointing at me. “You don’t like Rane because he was flirting with”—he shifts to pointing at Amarah—“her. But let’s hurry and leave. The news crew look like they’re ready to combust for a headline.”
It took us five days to get back into Alameris.
The route dragged us all the way down Central Lake, up toward Ashfer, and then east along the northernmost mountains.
This place is probably the greenest we’ve seen—and will see again—once we leave.
We can’t stay on this side of the continent for long.
Even though we’re three states away from Orwyn, it still feels too close to Thornegate.
Before we made the final trek toward the Vortices, we stopped for food and a real toilet before returning to roughing it.
Amarah and I don’t mind it, but I can tell Atlas is getting tired of the outdoors.
He doesn’t complain outright, but every time a bug gets in his face, he shoots me a sidelong glance.
The truck is parked down at the tourist station by the waterfall, which means we’re hiking. Because Atlas refuses to be carried by me, we’re doing this Mundane-style. I’m fine, but I can see it wearing on both of them as the hours drag on.
Amarah was stubborn too, until she nearly rolled her ankle, and instead of letting me cradle her like I have before, she jabbed a finger toward my back. So here I am, giving her a piggyback ride.
I can’t say I’m complaining, and maybe I should be angry at myself for enjoying how tightly pressed against me she is, but I can’t seem to lie to myself today.
Her arms tighten around my neck as she adjusts, and because her legs can’t hook around my waist, I know she’s not nearly as comfortable as she would be if she’d let me carry her properly.
This is the second time I’ve put my hands behind my back to cup her ass to help support her weight—and the second time she’s jabbed her heel into my gut in warning. Doesn’t hurt, but the message is clear.
Don’t touch me.
I guess all that concern she showed back in Ambarka was surface-level. She still doesn’t want conversation, or care, or to be touched.
I’m deprived, that’s all this is. Too many factors making me crave something I know I shouldn’t want. It’s frustrating, and I guess it makes me… want her.
Liar, liar.
“I… hate you… so… much…” Atlas pants as we finally reach the last incline of this lush mountainside. As far as the eye can see, there are trees and rolling greenery. Straight down is the waterfall, and beyond that, Central Lake glimmers in the distance.
It reminds me of the place Luce and I would spend time together at. The view is similar… yet different.
Amarah slips from my back and steps forward, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight. She stops just ahead of me, not taking away from the view in the slightest. Now it’s perfect.
I feel a warmth against the bond, but it’s like nothing I’ve felt before. It’s not familiar, but it doesn’t feel dangerous either.
“I can see why the Vortices are so strong here. Vendra is in everything—from the air to the soil, to the birds and plants. Here, she gets it all back.” Her lips pull into a somber smile.
“When I was a kid, I’d find the highest point I could without risking a fall.
I always thought that being closer to the sky, closer to the Vayl, meant I could reach up and touch my God the way she often touched me. ”
Atlas’s heavy breathing is absolutely ruining the moment, and I swear I want to cover his mouth and nose. That would kill him, but Gods, could he breathe any louder?
“It was silly,” she continues, “because whether I was underground or in the sky, she was equally close. The first time I was ever cut off from her was in Thornegate. That… was the truest torture.” She takes a long, steady breath and extends her hand as if she could pluck the distant trees from the earth and cradle them.
“What I wouldn’t give to stay here forever.”
I don’t think she meant for me to hear that, so for once, I don’t comment.
“It’s beautiful,” Atlas manages between breaths. He waves a hand weakly and turns away from us, probably to find somewhere to sit before he collapses.
I move to stand beside her and take in the view myself. “It’s pretty, but I think your home is prettier.”
A soft laugh slips out of her. “Yeah, I agree. But it doesn’t take away from the beauty in front of us.” She tucks her hands behind her back, lacing her fingers together. “Both are worthy of being admired… and loved properly.”
I nod, brushing my arm lightly against hers. “Can I ask you something?”
There’s hesitation in her response. “Sure.”
“What exactly is your curse? Nocthariel, I think you called it.”
She takes a deep, steady breath. “There are many layers to the hex. I cannot do for myself, only for others. To give—never be given. To protect—never to be protected.”
“What’s that mean, non-cryptically?”
A somber laugh slips out of her, her shoulders lifting with a small spark of delight. “It’s not important.”
“It sounded bad to that Necroth.”
“It’s probably the worst hex our people can suffer, but it’s not important to our mission.
” She turns as if to leave, but before she fully passes me, her hand presses softly to my chest. “I have a good feeling about this, Butcher. I’ll speak with Vendra and figure out how to open the gates so you can get to your… person.”
Before I can catch her hand, she’s already letting go and walking away.
It may not be important to the mission… but it’s important to me, Amarah.
Fuck me… it’s not the bond.