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I could get used to this, I think, and fear sprouts to life in my torso. I weed it out, crush it beyond distinction.Let me enjoy this, I demand of myself.
Cristen’s dark hair falls across his eyes, hits above his thick lashes. His lips are slightly parted, and I jolt a little when he snores.
A giggle – yes,a Gods-damn giggle– bubbles up and out of me as the tiniest bit of drool droops from his mouth. I clamp a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late.
Cristen stiffens, and his eyes snap open. His tension smooths as he looks at me, the threads of his eyes clear and beautiful in the morning. Each little swirl writhes in pastels, his pupils striking. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he mumbles groggily and sits up. He swishes the back of his hand across his mouth, the light bronze of his cheeks darkening in embarrassment when he finds the trail of drool.
I burst into a full cackle, then double-over and clutch my side. “Agh,” I growl, prodding my fingers along Cristen’s stitch work.
“I’m not sure what that means,” he says, his brow lifting in amusement. “How do you feel?”
“Like a real piece of shit,” I grumble.
He helps me to my feet, and I look down at the makeshift bed we’d slept on. It’s anactualcot. A thin mattress, but a mattress, nonetheless.
I side-eye Cristen. “Care to share how you wovethatin the wilderness?”
“Um,” he rubs the back of his neck and gives me a sheepish smile.
I snort and turn away. “You really are a prince.”
“Where are you going? You’re barely healed.”
“To find my allies. Last I remember, we left them in a rather precarious position. I’d like to know if they’re still alive.” I move to the cave’s exit, combing foliage out of the way. There’s an ache in my chest as my heart whispers stupid, irresponsible things like,Go back to him,and,Stay in this cave forever.
Outside, the sunrise crests the top of the trees. I wade through tall grass and slink back in the direction of the stronghold, wary of my wound as I go. Every step, every breath – pain ricochets through me.Enjoy the peace, I tell myself.
Growing up in Gronem, all I’ve ever known is city life. Without being under attack or bitching with Cristen, I think I might actually likenature. The way the canopy of trees swish and swish. The buzz of various insects forming a numbing, glorious hum. The way my chest doesn’t cave in with each breath, no city pollution waiting to steal years off my life. I allow myself a smile and tilt my face to the sky. The sun’s rays peek through here and there, sinking into my skin with a warm fuzziness I don’t think I’ve ever felt before, but I —
CRUNCH.
I lose my smile.
Crunchcrunch.
I glance over my shoulder.
Cristen moves forward with no regard for my much-needed peace, his boots killing every plant, breaking every twig.
I grit my teeth. “Could you be any louder?”
“Probably.”
“That was rhetorical,” I huff.
Cristen catches up to me and lightly bumps my shoulder. “Shall I tiptoe?”
“Just shut up.”
“I take it you're not a morning person.”
I glare at him. “I’m not alifeperson.”
He grins at me as if I’m joking.
I’m not joking.
“Your temper should be studied,” he remarks.
