Page 23 of Aryn

It’s not friendship between us, exactly. More like a mutual understanding we can’t fuck this up. His calm presence isn’t the annoyance it used to be, and I’ve started to view him as something steady.

Someone I have to rely on.

A cautious smile spreads on his mouth as he shrugs. “We need to be prepared for everything, and the weather could kill us much faster than an enemy.”

Sovran gestures at another box tucked deeper in the van. “The elements will be your greatest challenge at the beginning. There is cold weather gear for all of you. Long undergarments, lined pants, several layers of shirts, along with outerwear—winter coats, hats, gloves, scarves, and boots that are durable enough to last.”

Taryn looks over the boxes, ticking items off in her head. “We’ve got packs and sleeping gear, clothes, and a decent amount of food to get us started. What about weapons?”

“I wouldn’t rely on guns,” Sovran says bluntly. “Ammunition is heavy, and the noise could draw unwanted attention. Bring them if you feel the need, but blades are the safer choice.”

My fingers wrap around the worn leather grip of my machete, so familiar it feels as though it was crafted specifically for the curve of my palm. “Fine by me. I prefer a blade to a gun any day.”

Sovran dips his chin. “Each pack is loaded with a few necessities. There are matches, rope, fishing line, a first aid kit, some lightweight cooking gear, and a few canteens. Spend this evening packing what you need, but mind the weight of your load. You’ll be carrying it for a long distance.”

“We’re really doing this, then?” Aryn asks, staring at the bags like they might have the answer.

“We leave in the morning,” Sovran answers.

Ronan folds his arms over his chest, chewing on his bottom lip. “You’re sure this will work? We’ll be able to pass safely?”

“You will.”

“And we’ll be able to cross back to this side?”

Sovran nods again. “The magic works the same regardless of which direction you are traveling.”

“And, uh, what about the time between those two events?” Cameron asks, wringing his hands as he stares at the packs. “Any insight from that crystal ball noggin of yours that might tell us what will happen once we get there? Maybe a little play-by-play we can make notes on?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Sovran says gently.

“Who needs a plan, anyway?” I ask, fingers flexing around my hilt. “We go over to Ellie-Ray—”

“Elyra,” Aryn stresses, sounding like I've offended his entire bloodline.

“Fine, eh-leer-uh,” I stress, just a touch sarcastically. “We figure out who the good guys are, and kill the bad guys if they get in our way. We convince them to help us take down the big bad, and save the world.”

“Simple as that, huh?” Taryn deadpans.

I toss her a wink. “Simple as that.”

“Damn, maybe we should just let you handle it then,” Cameron says.

“Ah, afraid I still need you to open the door for me. Afterwards, you can just stand aside and let me do the heavy lifting.”

Aryn scoffs and shakes his head, but the tilt of his lips tells me he’s trying not to smile. “Trying to force your way into the history books?” he asks.

“Sure am. A few years from now, you can kick back and think of me when your nose is stuck in a book about Cato the Conqueror.”

“You wouldn’t make it past the first village on your own, human,” Ronan says with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “If you could even find a village before some wild animal made you their supper.”

Cameron hums, studying my frame. “He’s probably too bitter to eat.”

I flex my pecs, smirking when both their eyes drop to watch. “No bitterness here, baby. Once you get past the hard candy shell, it’s nothing but sweet inside.”

Aryn’s gaze lingers a beat too long on my chest before he drags it back up to my face. The corner of his lips curves into a barely there smile.

“Sweet inside,” he echoes, voice dry.