“Kade?” I whisper.
He stops. “What is it, kitten?”
I want to ask him if he’s hurt. I should ask him what he’s thinking and make him tell me what happened yesterday. I’m well within my rights to demand an explanation, but I don’t know if I can face the answers to any of those questions. Or worse, his refusal to tell me what I need to know.
“How far is it?”
I roll my eyes, irritated at myself for behaving like a pathetic teenager. He must think I’m an imbecile. This can’t endear me or improve his opinion of me, and the sound of my boots crunching against the brittle earth is as final as his judgment seems.
Kade glances over his shoulder, his expression unreadable in the dim light filtering through the twisted canopy above. “A few hours. If we keep moving, we’ll make it by nightfall.”
His voice is steady, detached, as if the ruined forest and the silence stretching between us don’t affect him at all. But I know better. Kade isn’t the type to let anything slip unless he wants to, and right now, he’s guarding whatever thoughts are rattling around in that infuriating head of his.
Yesterday, he was a torrent of rage and sarcasm, biting words laced with steel. Today, he’s unnervingly quiet, and I can’t decide which version of him is worse.
“I’m okay, thanks for asking.”
Kade stops and I almost slam into him. “Don’t lie, Zara. Not to me.”
“I’m not.” I am. Lying.
He doesn’t respond, just watches me for a moment longer, his gaze heavy and knowing. Then he turns and starts walking again, leaving me to follow in his wake like a shadow. I bite the inside of my cheek and force my legs to move, my mind racing with all the things I wish I’d said and the things I’m glad I didn’t.
We walk in stony silence, past trees that creak in the faint breeze blowing across a blackened landscape that claws at the sky with accusatory fingers. Every so often he asks if I’m ready to talk; I tell him I’m not, and then we stare at each other with glacial expressions before continuing our walk without saying a word.
I don’t know how many hours we spend walking, and all I know is I’m no longer sure which one of us is the greater evil. I’m afraid, and it’s impossible to escape this when the person who terrifies me is myself. Time stretches, broken only by the rhythm of our footsteps and the thoughts swirling through my head. My body aches, throbbing in time with the steady beat of my heart, which has decided to keep going, for now at least.
“Are you sure this is the right way?” I ask.
“Positive.”
His answer is clipped, leaving no room for doubt or discussion. I want to push him, to needle at that stoic calm until he cracks, but the oppressive weight of the forest unnerves me. I stare into the darkness and it stares back, and whatever’s lurking out there isn’t playing nice.
We’re being watched.
We’re being hunted.
We’re being led straight into a trap.
The ground gives way beneath me as the brittle earthopens, its deafening crack as loud as any crash of thunder. My stomach lurches as I plummet into the darkness, the air rushing past me in a chaotic roar. I hit the bottom hard, pain blooming through my ribs as I gasp for air, cursing that I was too slow to reach for my magic.
Or too damn frightened.
I scramble to my feet, looking up at the jagged edges of the pit. They frame the faint light of the sky, but it seems a distant and unreachable world now. Shadows close in around me, dense and unrelenting, and the air down here is colder, sharper, with an acrid tang that burns my throat.
“Zara!” Kade’s voice pierces the silence, sharp and commanding.
I reach for my magic and its sparks feel wet, refusing to catch light. I try again, but nothing happens and I grit my teeth, certain the shadows are somehow stopping my magic from working.
“I’m fine,” I manage, though my ribs scream in protest.
I step back and my hands brush against the slick, uneven wall of the pit, and my fingers come away covered in oily gloop. I’m not climbing out of this hole and I spin around, looking for any other way out.
“Don’t move!” Kade snaps, his tone suddenly urgent.
I freeze. “What?”
“There’s something down there with you,” he says, his voice tight.
