She drew a shallow breath, praying it was the wind.
But there was no wind. The branches of the tree were still. The sound came again, this time less of a rustle, and more of a brush along bark.
She reached over and nudged Dess, shaking him gently by the shoulder. “Dess,” she hissed. “Dessfar. Wake up.”
He groaned and pulled his bedroll up over his head.
Cursing him silently, she shook harder. “Dess.”
He startled awake, finally clueing into her urgency. “What is it?”
“I think something’s out there.”
His mouth hardened into a thin line, and he drew his sword from where it lay sheathed on the ground beside him. Easing himself upright, he gave her a questioning look. She pointed at the tree above them.
She obliged his gesture to stand, and they mirrored each other, Thia drawing Pagdan’s knife.
They waited for a moment. A minute. Two. When there was only silence, Thia was prepared to count her lucky stars and sigh with relief.
Then a dark shadow hurtled down from the branches.
Dess reacted, driving into the thing, pushing it up against the trunk with his sword against its throat.
Throat? A person. Definitely person-shaped, and faster than Dess, as it drove a knee upwards, leaving him gasping in pain. An elbow connected with his chest, and he doubled over, dropping his sword. Thia twisted the knife in her palm, shaking.
“Is this any way to greet a friend?” the figure said coldly.
Oskaren.
Thia pushed past her, resisting the urge to knock her with a shoulder, and rushed to Dess. He was clutching his stomach, still gasping.
“Are you okay?”
He forced himself to stand. “Just winded. I’ll be fine.”
Thia spun, firing a glare at Oskaren. “What the hell are you doing here?” The girl wore no pack, but had a small sack in one gloved hand.
Oskaren cocked an eyebrow. “I should think it obvious, Faelyn. I’m accompanying you on your quest.”
“My name isThia,” she snapped, just as Dess said, “Absolutely not.”
Oskaren smirked at Dess. “I suppose you think you could stop me, brother?”
He growled. “I’m not your brother.”
“Aren’t you?”
Dess tensed. Thia put a hand on his arm. “Why are you here?” she demanded again.
“I wish to kill the king,” Oskaren said lightly, like she was remarking on the weather. “I hate him.” She paused. “Among others.”
“I thought you didn’t have feelings.”
Oskaren shrugged. “My hatred is more of a state of mind.”
She resisted the urge to tear out her hair in frustration. An unusually self-destructive thought, but it was late, and this girl was an ass. “Wish all you want,” she snapped. “But I need his help.”
Oskaren’s laughed dripped ice. “He will never help you.”
