“Or maybe he’ll take the opportunity to attack when we’re separated,” Kade retorted, then shook his head. “No. Sorry, Florian. But I think that’s a bad idea.”
Florian sighed, glancing in the cave’s direction again. The centaur had stepped closer to the mouth of the cave. If it weren’t for the bright golden sheen of the Arrow sticking out from his eye, and the beetles flitting around him, he might have been hidden just out of sight.
“Fine,” he finally relented. “Just let me do the talking, I guess.”
He stepped forward, and after a few steps, the others followed. But his movements were slow and measured, and he kept his eyes on the centaur as they walked, each watching the other.
“I told you to leave,” the centaur barked out, when Florian was about twenty yards from the cave opening. He paused where he stood, keeping his hands visible at his sides.
“I know,” he replied, glancing behind him to make sure the others had stopped, too. “But we want to help you.”
“You can’t help me.”
“There’s nothing we can do for you?” Florian pressed. “Maybe if you can tell us more about what happened to you, we could figure something out. We made it all the way here, after all.”
He could hear the centaur make a frustrated scoffing sound, but otherwise he didn’t reply. Florian took a slow, careful step closer, watching the cave entrance carefully as he moved. There was no response, so after a moment, he called out again,
“Can you tell me your name? What happened to you?” He paused, then added, “Were you one of the horse shifters that used to live here? Is that how you knew Aderus?”
The centaur made a pained sound at that, and Florian tensed, ready to jump out of the way. But this time the creature didn’t charge at him, though Florian could hear his hooves as he paced around the cave entrance.
“How do you know Aderus?” the centaur finally barked out, sounding distressed. “How could you have possibly known Aderus?”
This was risky—the topic was clearly upsetting for the creature, but it also got him talking. He gulped, then answered as steadily as he could manage,
“I have some memories from... From the fae who used to live in the Summer Court. A spirit was tethered to me. I have a memory of Queen Soleil mentioning Aderus.”
“Stop!” the centaur exclaimed, and Florian froze. “Stop talking about him. I don’t want to think about him. Or her.”
“O-Okay,” Florian agreed quickly. “Can you tell me your name instead?”
The centaur huffed again, then the sound of his hooves stopped. For a moment, Florian couldn’t see him, and he wondered if the centaur had gone further into the cave to get away from them. But then he answered in a miserable croak,
“I’m not sure. I don’t even know how long it’s been.”
Florian bit his tongue, trying not to groan in frustration. If he didn’t even remember his own name, then maybe this was a losing battle after all.
“I think it was Val… something,” he finally said. For once, his voice was less of a growl. He sounded almost scared. “Valor? Valyris? Valyris. I think.”
“Valyris,” Florian repeated slowly. “We can call you that, if you want.”
“Yes,” Valyris replied. Then he huffed angrily and snapped, “You should go. You shouldn’t be here.”
“We’re just trying to understand what happened,” Florian replied, holding his hands up as he took a few more steps toward the cave. He could now see more clearly into it. Valyris was pacing back and forth, the Arrow in his eye occasionally flashing in the light as he turned to glance at Florian for just a moment, before turning again. “That’s all we want right now. Can you help us with that?”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “No, that’s a bad idea.”
Florian looked back at the others; Kade was only a few steps behind him, but Koji and Rune had lingered further away. He gave them a questioning look, but they looked just as lost as he felt. Finally, he turned back to see Valyris watching him.
“Okay,” Florian blurted out, desperate to keep the centaur talking. “Then could you tell us about what you’ve been doing? You’ve been here a while, haven’t you?”
Valyris scoffed, and Florian’s heart plummeted with disappointment as he turned away. But the centaur only resumed pacing.
“Many things,” he replied bitterly. “Many things. Too many.”
He thought of the map, but couldn’t think of a way to ask about it without making it obvious that they had snooped on his belongings, which was sure to destroy whatever tenuous beginnings of trust they had.
“Where did you go yesterday?” Florian asked. “When you left. We went back to the city, so we didn’t see where you went.”
