Page 20 of Dream Reaper

Ava’s dusky-gray cheeks darkened to coal. “I’m not the one who goes on dangerous assignments without a medical bag in his saddle.”

“No, you’re the one who gets herself kidnapped without one.”

“That’s hardly the same thing,” she protested, widening her stance and facing him as if she thought this conversation might come to physical blows. “I had medical supplies, but they were misplaced during the battle. You remember the one. Where my prince turned into a ruddy blue firebird?”

Now her sarcasm matched his, bite for bite.

“Your prince?” Jerrid mocked as he squared off against her in return. “You must be very smitten with him.”

He suppressed a smile, doubting she would find his amusement at all…well…amusing.

But he was amused. He was definitely amused.

He hadn’t thought her skin capable of darkening even more, but somehow it did.

“You know what I meant. My people’s prince. The prince of Gelaira. The dark elf prince. The prince that isn’t from your flame-eaten kingdom in the mountains.”

“Oh, yes, thank you. That does clarify things.”

Her lips thinned and whitened. “So happy to oblige. It must be difficult to keep up with such limited mental capacity. The human mind is much more fragile than I was led to believe.”

Now it was his turn to blush. “That’s rather a low blow. I hardly think it’s necessary to insult my intelligence.”

“You found it necessary to deliberately misunderstand my most basic vocabulary. You didn’t leave me any choice.”

“You always have a choice, lass.”

At least, that was what he told himself when Dragon reared his gnarly snout and began to demand feastings at all hours of the day. He had to believe he had choices, that he could control his fate.

That he could control Dragon.

She eyed him. “As enjoyable as this pointed exchange has been, it isn’t getting us any closer to the ruins.”

“I’ll give you that one with my whole heart.” He splayed a hand across his chest, over the place where that organ beat in his chest.

Where it beat a little too quickly, he noted. Why had their exchange gotten to him? It wasn’t as if he actually enjoyed her company…or her clever comebacks.

They were rather good, as far as comebacks went. He did have to give credit where credit was due, even where snobby dark elf maidens were concerned.

I like Meat Pasty.

The thought forced its way unbidden into his mind.

He reared back physically. Well, you can’t have her! Go back to sleep!

Dragon chuckled darkly and slunk back into the recesses of Jerrid’s subconscious. Hopefully, he would stay put. The last thing he needed right now was Dragon coming out to play with Ava, when they were already in a hard spot.

Echo needed him to get to the ruins, scavenge the place for every useful thing it might have, and get back to that clearing.

He didn’t have time to fool around.

“We’re going to go south, then,” Ava declared.

Jerrid would have liked to disagree just for the sake of riling her, but he compressed his lips and gave a curt nod instead. It was better to capitulate and keep his mouth shut. Bickering wouldn’t help Echo.

He spun on his heel and made his way down the incline to the south, hoping that Talos had wandered far in another direction. Maybe he was lying wounded in a pile of ferns, bleeding out. That would be even better.

They picked their way around the crest of the ravine for ten minutes before Jerrid found a place that looked promising. The drop wasn’t quite so steep—still steep enough they would have to be careful not to roll head over teakettle down to the bottom, but not so steep they couldn’t manage it if they were careful.