I let go of the bars and wrap my arms round my chest.
‘I wonder what he’d do to you if he were to find out,’ she muses. ‘I doubt he’d be sogentlethen.’
‘Ingra –’
But she cuts me off. ‘I just hope he was worth it.’
Her voice is drained of vitriol, yet I still flinch. In that moment I see myself through Ingra’s eyes. And she’s right – I am a traitor. A traitor and a fool. Of all the people I could’ve fallen in love with, I fell for the son of my oppressors. Heir to a dynasty of blood and gold, ruler of the empire that vanquished my homeland. The very person I ought to hate.
Shame burns my throat and spills down my cheeks. A quiet sob escapes my lips before I can clamp them shut.
Ingra is unmoved. She turns her back on me and sighs softly. ‘Oh, run along, Irabella. Save your tears for your sweet Emmeric. I hope for your sake he never discovers what you truly are, or you’ll be swinging from the noose right next to mine.’
42
Flint
Time escapes me. Trees knit together overhead, concealing the sky. I have no way of telling day from night. Not a single ray of light – whether sun or moon – can break through the permanent veil of gloom that hangs over the darkest depths of the Greenwood. Neither Sheen nor I have slept. We’ve just been wandering the forest, searching for a way back to the Bandits’ camp, to no avail. My voice is hoarse from calling Spinner’s name, though Sheen had pointed out the futility of this plan – even if she could hear us, she would likely assume it was just another of the dryads’ tricks. I comfort myself with the knowledge that if I don’t manage to set an example to follow, others can at least learn from my mistakes.
‘Keep up, would you?’ There’s a particularly cold bite to Sheen’s usual frosty tone.
‘I’m trying,’ I mutter, blinking hard in an attempt to stave off the exhaustion seeping into my bones.
A will-o’-the-wisp glimmers to life beside me. I aim a kick at it, but it simply vanishes, another appearingin its place several yards ahead. Only a handful remain, flickering lazily among the trees, which have spent the better part of the night twisting out of shape – gnarled branches twining together to block our path, forcing us back in a different direction. I wonder if their present stillness is indication that the nymphs have got fed up with their games, or whether they sleep during the day like other forest-dwelling creatures.
At the mere thought of sleep my limbs seem to turn to liquid and my pace slows to a disjointed stagger.
Sheen, who’s striding swiftly through the undergrowth, glances back over his shoulder, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘What now?’
‘I’m tired.’
‘You’re always tired. Or hungry. Or bored. Really, it’s like travelling with a child.’
I swallow my irritation. ‘Maybe if we could just stop and rest for an hour or so –’
‘In case you’ve forgotten, Harglade, you’re the reason we’re in this mess. The least you can do is help find our way out of it.’ Sheen snorts derisively. ‘You seriously believed it was yoursistercalling to you? That she just happened to be here, in the Greenwood?’
‘I wasn’t thinking about that –’
‘You weren’t thinking at all.’
I glare at him. ‘Do you mean to tell me that if someone you loved was calling your name, you could just ignore them?’
‘You forget I possess something called rationality,’ says Sheen. ‘You’re too hot-headed for your own good.’
‘I’d rather be hot-headed and irrational than a miserable prick like you,’ I shoot back. ‘I can’t imagine you know how to love anyone.’
His eyes spark with rage. ‘You don’t know anything about me, Harglade.’
‘No, you’re right, because you don’ttellme anything. You don’t talk to me, and when you do, it’s to make me feel like I’m some airhead you can’t stand to be around. I wonder, does it take practice, being that sour all the time? Or were you just born that way?’
Sheen’s voice goes deathly cold. ‘Are you finished?’
But now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop. The anger proves energizing. ‘You know, I like to look for the best in people. Always have. But when it comes to you I draw a blank. From the moment we met you’ve treated me with utter contempt. Do you have any idea what that’s like? Being forced to spend time with someone who makes it painfully clear howrepellentthey find you? Because it’s not exactly an ego boost.’ I let out an empty laugh. ‘Seriously, Sheen, I don’t know what I did to make you hate me so much.’
A deafening silence follows. My heart pounds as I wait for him to respond.
Eventually, quietly, he says, ‘I don’t hate you.’
