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“Because it’s not clear to me. Because I don’t know, I don’t remember.”
Raider looked away, breath suddenly raking through his lungs, heart suddenly hammering. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Seth was silent for a long time, still for a long time. Then he started working on the food. He slid a steaming rabbit from the spit onto the unused cooking pan, turning it into a plate.
Raider was aware of that peripherally, but he didn’t look at Seth. He didn’t want Seth to see the fear that might show in his eyes.
Maybe Seth saw it anyway. He certainly saw something, judging by the shift in his manner and tone. Almost caringly, he held out the food in Raider’s direction. Almost gently, he said, “Here, eat.”
When Raider took the laden pan, Seth next held out a water skin. Raider took that too.
Usually, Raider very much enjoyed his food, and there was a lot to enjoy about the rabbit. Seth certainly knew how to cook, including how to make sparing but excellent use of spices. But fear had a bad flavor, and it took a while for Raider to swallow enough of it down that he could really taste the meal.
Seth expressed little enjoyment himself, eating in a businesslike manner. Then again, he probably always ate like that.
Still thirsty from the quiva, Raider lifted the water skin to his lips then stopped himself. “You found the well? It’s not dry?” In the desert, you never knew.
“I found the well,” Seth confirmed, and Raider drained the water skin.
The silence having been broken, Seth circled back to their original argument.
“Raider, I need you to discuss plans with me. Coordinate. I need to be able to trust you.”
“You can trust me to get you to Aqarat. How else would I get paid?” he added glibly, hoping to redirect the conversation.
Seth, however, was not to be sidetracked. “Get this straight: I am not going to wait behind like a goddamn princess in pearls while you take on dangers alone.”
A laugh burst from Raider. Now that was an image.
Even Seth couldn’t suppress a huff of amusement at the picture he’d inadvertently drawn. Then he pressed, tone softening, “Don’t do that again.”
Somehow, that soft tone got to Raider in a way that the harshness had not. It prodded at a tender place inside him, one he hadn’t known was there. The sensation brought with it a sense of foreboding.
That was a tone he might listen to.
He said in surprise, “This is going to be a difficult trip.”
Seth snorted. “Are you just now realizing that? We’re a terrible match.”
“Maybe so,” Raider said, even though that wasn’t what he’d meant. “But we’re both here. We’re both fine.”
“Are you, though? Fine? You were really out of it.” Seth added, as though he couldn’t help himself, “Out of it in a dangerous place. If you’d been alone—”
“Good thing I had you, then. Even if we are a terrible match.”
CHAPTER 12
RAIDER, SETH HAD BEGUN to realize, had a lot of different moods. He’d been in a strange one for several days now, ever since the incident with the jackals (and the quiva). He’d been … withdrawn. Actually, he’d been entirely normal, but compared to Raider’s usual flamboyant manner, normal was withdrawn.
The days had been uneventful, quiet—and painfully dull.
Seth should have been pleased. With Raider riding silently ahead of him, Seth should have settled into the rhythm of travel, the particular emptiness that came with traversing endless miles without stimulation.
The trouble, Seth thought, was that, even silent, Raider was stimulation enough to keep Seth’s mind from settling. Being Seth’s guide, Raider usually rode in front, and that meant he was almost always in Seth’s direct line of sight. Which meant Seth spent a lot of time observing him.
Raider was an excellent rider, a fact that had been proven many times when his reactive mare had shied at a darting lizard or a rustle in the scrub. Raider sat her beautifully, his body lithe and supple. He was kind, too, with his hands and voice.
And the longer Seth watched Raider in his brilliant silks, the more right they looked. The red kaftan gleamed like a ruby. Flashy, yes. But beautiful.
