33. THIRTY-THREE #2
She raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t very difficult to put together.”
Fucking mind-reader.
She ignored him. “If you won’t tell me what you’re afraid of, then tell me what you’re planning so I can help.”
Calver nearly ran. The tent flap yawned open. He lifted his hand to signal and dropped it twice, three times. Raimee watched him struggle, mouth twisting.
“Oh dear. Have I completely undermined your plan for me to wander along, wipe my nose, and do absolutely nothing but play victim to chance? Bad Raimee.”
Calver dragged his hands down the sides of his face.
Kretch. Was she really any better off if he vanished?
In the very least, he should have been honest with her about her risks.
This entire recruitment was contrived. He was nearly sure Thyatira had been planning all along to hand her over to the Tera’thian Tohatu when they made it to Steila.
The oligarchy could have found another way to discreetly get her to the capital besides military escort.
One that didn’t involve three months of travel through the Jiradesh. In fact…
Calver’s guts turned over: he was surprised they knew which way was up any longer.
How could he be so stupid? Cul’Mon was breeding conduits.
If Cul’Mon gained a full-blooded Ruxian, it was a far better play than using distortion plates as a trap.
This was more than an ambush in Steila. This was now beyond anything Fankalo could have planned for.
If Cul’Mon had a Ruxian, Nelfindar would fall.
Calver’s throat was a swollen stone. He looked at Raimee.
She looked back. It was a look that clucked its tongue and said, “Yes, yes. I’m growing old waiting for you to catch up, idiot.
Please promptly presume intelligent thought.
” He’d underestimated her, yet again. She could distort.
She was probably far more capable than he was.
“Yes.”
He anticipated shock. Horror. She was so weak. Maybe she’d give up. She might even cry. He wasn’t sure he could handle that.
“That feels obvious now that you mention it.”
He’d forgotten this woman was completely insane.
“It’s self-evident that the Steilan rendezvous is a Tera’thian setup, probably planned since the invasion of Tennca'Pui. Maybe even earlier. Why do you think I wrote you that note?”
A sudden ringing began in his ears.
“Everything to do with Thyatira forcing us along with this encampment has been quite deliberate, and without a logical backing. Why not send us to Seraphinden directly from Chira’na with a private guard?
He knew we were onto Thacklore. He was keeping us here, separated in a doomed encampment, to make sure we wouldn’t tell anyone.
I’ve been under lock and key at all times.
For my own “safety,” I haven’t been allowed to see or speak to anyone but him. ”
Calver shook off a sudden desire to storm out.
“Am I detecting jealousy?”
He shook his head.
“You seem fairly calm yourself.”
“You still think you can stop it, don’t you?”
He nodded, chest tight, fists balling.
Her eyes never left his. “I know that’s how you’re used to doing things, but the way my second sight sees it, we both have a better shot at making it to Seraphinden alive if we stick together.”
Calver’s blood cooled. How did she do this? How did she kindle sparks of hope where there wasn’t any air?
He sat slowly on the cot beside her. She didn’t shift to make space for him. Rather, she pressed in closer. Then again. There was fabric between them. It was enough to hold back his curse. Her warmth spread into him. Calver pulled his mind from what was, by all accounts, an impossible outcome.
He stank to Chira’na and back, he was certain. She had to be desperately cold to do such a thing.
Sure enough, there were bumps against her skin. Desperate.
Sticking together wouldn’t work. If he brought her with him, he would lose any amount of reticence he might have had.
This was more than likely to be the last time he saw her, given what lay ahead.
He punched the moment into his psyche, mentally tracing the lines of her body and the way they gave against him so it might linger in his memory.
He’d faced too many farewells before he was properly ready for them, and he didn’t want to forget this.
Truth be told, he didn’t want it to ever end.
But the well of time had run dry. He needed to leave tonight—now—to get away from the encampment before anyone noticed him gone. To chart a course that would allow him to reach Steila before the rest of the encampment.
Raimee squirmed. “No. The farther I go, the more difficult it is for me. And the way I travel… It doesn’t work by focusing on a place. More like a feeling. I don’t know anything about Steila. I don’t know the way.”
Raimee hesitated. “Admittedly, I don’t see you or anything like that. I just get this sort of directional hunch. You’re like a light.”
“No.”
There were no happy coincidences.
Raimee was very still. “What does that mean?”
Cul’Mon must know Calver was moving in on Steila.
Prone to achieving two goals with one tactic, he may have even planned this entire ordeal with the plates as a lure for Calver first, and an ambush of the Red Wing second.
Now that Calver better understood his worth, he knew why.
He looked at Raimee. They shared the same risk.
“Right.” Raimee bit at her thumb, blinking rapidly. “Listen, I’ve wanted to ask you about that.”
Calver didn’t want to even think about the Survivor, for worry of what might happen as a result.
“Yes.”
“I lost you. For the first time in a while.”
The inklings of an idea began to set into his mind, mortared by the faith that, for the first time in a long time, he might not fail—because for the first time in a long time, he was not alone.
He considered the way she’d popped up from nowhere months ago, when the journey through the desert had only just begun.
She fidgeted. “Theoretically. I’ve only tried it twice.”
And she hadn’t moved very far.
“Yes!”
Allying with Raimee came with unprecedented dangers. It was unsustainable for her to drain her own energy to distort the way she had been, and he was sure she was at her limit.
“Calver…” She swallowed and gave him a sad smile that pierced something vital in him. “You know all there is to know of me. I don’t have anything to lose.”
For eight years he’d run from Cul’Mon. Not any more.
If Calver and Raimee came to him, they could fight him on their own terms. And with the ambush planned in Steila, he’d be distracted.
For the first time, Calver would give his old master exactly what he wanted—a Ruxian and a Conduit—but this time, he would be the one two steps ahead.
So long as the Red Wing survived. Taking on Cul’Mon would be pointless if his entire army was available to back him up.
He wouldn’t say ‘promise me’. He couldn’t let her future be tied to the way he felt about it.
“And if you can stop them, what would you have me do?”
She gave him a long, scrutinizing look. “I just need you to tell me you’re one of them.”