He blinks, mutters something under his breath that sounds likefuck. I’m tempted to ask when that became his favorite word. I’m tempted to ask him a lot of things.
While Elliot drinks, I adjust my bag over my shoulder. A tight knot is forming beneath my neck, and I imagine a night sleeping in the forest won’t help. I peek sideways at Elliot, just as he’s capping the canister. There’s a lot I don’t know about this adventure of ours, a lot I most definitely should have asked before agreeing.
Especially since I told no one where I was going.
Idon’t even know where I’m going.
Elliot is still placing his canister back into his pack when I start walking again. There’s nothing I hate quite like introspection, not even exercise. I glance at the contents of my bag as I walk, more to keep myself busy than to check I have everything.
Two jars. The glossy black Initia Stone. A miniature container, filled with Astoria Lake water. A separate pouch with the fae king’s hair and the mermaid scales and the dragon claw. It’s all still in place, but the memories look more anxious than they did before we left. It’s like they know something is changing.
Do they think I’m going to release them? Allow them to return to their owner?
I’d sooner absorb them myself.
“More to the south now,” Elliot says. I’m not sure when he caught up to me, but he’s steadily keeping pace. His pack is back in place over his shoulders, and he looks all too comfortable for someone who has been walking all day.
I puff out a breath, staring straight ahead, rather than at him. In front of us, massive craggy mountains sprout from the desert and stretch for the gray sky. Overhead, a slender green dragon whips between the mountain turrets. Not far behind him, a harpy follows suit. A male, whooping at the top of his lungs.
A teenager, I’d guess.
“Have you ever thought about it?” Elliot asks from beside me. Both of his hands are on the straps of his pack, the only possible sign he’s more fatigued than he looks.
“About what?”
“Flying,” he says. He nods to the harpy, then the dragon. I realize the latter has a rider, clinging haphazardly to its back.
“I have no interest in that,” I say. I tilt my head slightly, following their trajectory until they disappear betweenmountain peaks to the north. “I’ve found the ground to be challenging enough.”
“Have you?” Elliot asks. His lips tilt into a subtle smirk, but within seconds, it blossoms into a full smile. “I suppose youaresweating.”
“I’ve noticed you aren’t,” I say. Blush scours my cheeks as soon as the words are out. I rush forward, hoping he won’t read into my words. “Are you one of those people whoenjoythis? Walking. Trekking. Exercising.”
He barks out a laugh, and it shoots dopamine through my entire system. The blush on my cheeks grows hotter, and pride swells deep beneath my ribcage.
Make him laugh again, my body begs.Let us hear it again.
“I do enjoy this,” Elliot says. He’s looking at me, but I do not allow myself to look back. “Even with you, Cora.”
“I’m honored,” I say. My words drip with sarcasm, and I can only hope it’s enough he thinks I don’t mean it. When, truly, my body is humming.
We walk in quiet for several minutes. We are officially in Flight Realm territory. The ground has fully transitioned from grey rock to pale sand. Mounds and mounds of it, the color of powdered clay and as fine as dust particles. Every step sends a puff of it into the air, and before long, I can feel the scrape of it on my throat.
“You see that?” Elliot asks. He points at the same peak he has multiple times now. “That’s where we’re going.”
“You’ve mentioned,” I deadpan.
“No, look closer,” he says. His hand remains lifted, finger directed at that same, lopsided pinnacle. It’s one of the shorter mountains, maybe technically a hill, tucked between two enormous peaks.
I ignore my instinct to argue with Elliot that Ido, in fact, see the peak. I lean forward, eyes squinted at the peak. There’snothing remarkable about it. The mountains of the Flight Realm are broad and jagged, a collection of freestanding crests and interconnect stretches. They’re all sandy and grey, dotted with dark trees and scattered boulders.
I’m still blinking dumbly at the small peak when Elliot steps closer, crowding into my space. I can feel his body heat. It should be miserable in this desert and with my skin already sticky with sweat. Instead, I welcome the gentle brush of his arm against mine. I let his heat consume me like the loveliest of fires.
“Don’t look at the top,” he says. He takes my hand, and my breath catches without permission. He doesn’t comment, and for whatever reason, I don’t pull away. I let him hold my hand in his, let him point my index finger as if it’s an extension of his own body.
“There’s the peak, right?” he asks. His voice is a rough mumble as he leans closer, his chest pressing against my shoulder.
“Right,” I say. Barely a whisper.
