Page 43 of The Silversmith

“Hey.” His blue eyes were speckled with worry. “You know he’s dangerous, right?”

I watched Gavin—the rough, violent man they knew—as he walked away. Naively, I replied, “I don’t think he’s dangerous to me.”

Ezra cringed at my words, eyes plagued with a sad pity I hated. As if I was blind, stupid prey, running straight into the den of a predator.

“Just be careful, okay? I don’t know enough about him. None of us do, other than that Simeon sent him, and I don’t—” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

I thought of Gavin’s touch, his presence, how it made me feel—safe, warm, alive. That solace I felt whenever he was close. I thought of all these things more than I cared to admit, and I couldn’t imagine him hurting me.

But Ezra was right. He wasn’t the type of man I could simply be attracted to. He was the type of man I could get lost in.

Truly, Gavin Smyth’s effect on me had the potential to be devastating.

“Okay.” I placed my hand over Ezra’s and squeezed. “I’ll be careful.”

And I meant it.

Chapter twelve

One downside of craggy hills and plunging valleys was a brutal, unforgiving wind that dipped through fewer trees, soared, and threatened to literally blow me away. More than once, I stumbled.

But the wind’s attempt to steal my joy, albeit ferocious, was no match for the joy I felt simply existing in the Wymaran highlands. While a few of my travel companions—namely Gemma and Gavin—threw worried glances in my direction every time I shivered, I remained enamored by the magnificent valley to the south, disrupted by veins of rivers going every which way. The same wind that bit into my cheeks flowed over the rich topography below, creating the illusion that the earth itself was breathing.

Around midday, we came across a mountainous range of black, ashy rock, quite different from the tamer verdant hills speckled with gray and brown we’d so far seen. It was far away, but I could see from where I stood how dominating the blackened terrain was, claiming no desire to share space with anything living.

“You see those rocks?” Caz rested a hand on my shoulder and pointed east, toward the range. “They’re formed from volcanoes.”

“Volcanoes?”

“There are cracks deep beneath Nyrida,” he explained. “And below that, the core of our world is on fire. Melted earth seeps back up through those cracks and hardens up top, creating ridges like that.”

“Won’t the fire… burn through?” I cringed, well aware how idiotic I sounded. I would have to “thank” my mother for failing to teach me basic geography.

“Give it another four hundred years, and maybe it will,” Gavin muttered grumpily, and while brushing past us, tossed a nasty scowl at Caz.

Caz shook his head and snorted, watching our grumpy leader hike forward.

“I don’t know that he likes you very much,” I muttered so only Caz could hear. At least, Gavin didn’t like whatever friendship was developing between Caz and me. If I ever had an older brother, I thought he might be like Caz, and I was simply giddy at the thought of meeting Marin. I already adored her based on what they’d told me.

Caz laughed, free and lighthearted. “I think he doesn’t like himself very much, Ary.” With a gentle squeeze of my shoulder, he forged ahead.

We continued southeast, leaving the ashy cliffs in our wake. One day, I thought. One day, I would stare right into one of those pools of burning earth just to prove to myself I could.

That night, I was so exhausted that I hardly saw where we stopped and my dinner almost became my pillow. Someone must have taken the near-empty bowl from me and laid me on my sleeping mat, because I woke the next morning, cozy and comfortable like I’d gone to sleep of my own volition.

I opened my eyes to daylight, taking in our camp. Above me, gray rock—a wide but short overhang—sheltered us, leaving open air on all sides save for where the rock connected with the earth below us. A fortunate shelter from the rain. No wonder I’d slept so long. The sound of rain always soothed me.

“Good morning, lovely.” Gemma smiled down at me. Her outstretched hand held my daily mug of honeyed green tea. “It seems you slept well.”

I sat up and accepted the mug. “Thank you.”

Caz and Ezra were laughing and talking next to the campfire. Finn saw me sit up and came over.

“Where’s Smyth?”

“Hunting.” Finn sat down with his map and unfolded it. “He was gracious enough to insist we stay out of the rain.”

Gemma rolled her eyes. “Yes, what a delightful fellow.”