Page 76 of Aryn

Cato’s face tightens as he watches them fall. “Can we please go?” he begs, losing his bravado for the moment.

“Of course, rha khor,” I murmur, tugging him into my chest once more as I press my lips against his forehead. He tilts his chin, and for a moment, I consider letting go of my resolve.

I want to crash my lips to his and kiss him like I’ve wanted to for days now, to show him he’s not alone. That I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.

It might be too late for this fractured heart of mine either way.

Instead, I give him a small smile. “You’re staying tethered to me the whole time.”

He coughs a weak laugh as he glances at my tail wrapped around his forearm. “Trust me, I prefer it that way.”

Cato is shaky as I help him to his feet, but no one dares to say anything else to either of us. We resume our lineup with Ronan in the lead, and I keep my tail firmly around Cato’s arm as he walks in front of me. He reaches down every once in a while and wraps his fingers around it, thumb drifting mindlessly over my skin before he pulls away again.

It’s midafternoon before we’re on solid ground in the foothills, and we all breathe easier when the river is no longer rushing a hundred feet beneath us. We stop to rest and clean up, and I allow Taryn to tend to Cato’s wounds while I hover at his side.

She cleans his forehead, but determines it doesn’t need stitches. Tiny, rigid bandages close the slice after she cleans it, and she forces Cato to remove his jacket so she can inspect his other injuries. A deep purple bruise circles his wrist and forearm where I grabbed him, and more dark splotches paint his ribcage and abdomen. Nothing appears broken, though, and the minor scratches on the rest of his body will heal easily enough on their own.

The rest of the day is uneventful, and we find another cave to make camp for the night. This one is small, but the tighter space means it’s warmer inside. A large boulder at the mouth keeps the wind from cutting in, as well as hiding us from passing predators.

As night falls, we join our sleeping bags again. Cato fights me when I tell him to sit out of watch rotation for the night, but eventually I convince him to take the extra rest to heal. I curl into his body, needing to remind myself that he’s safe as much as I want to offer him the warmth. His breathing smooths out, but I’m wide awake. The fear on his face keeps replaying in my mind, along with the terrifying realization that I almost lost him before I ever even had him.

Cato

For two more days, we travel through the same hilly, rocky terrain, and despite how much I try to forget it, my mind keeps flashing back to that crumbling ledge. The first night, it took me hours to fall asleep, only to dream Aryn hadn’t caught me.

My stomach damn near fell out of my body as I woke up gasping, and Aryn had to pin me down as my eyes flew open. I only managed to ground myself when I found him in the dark and heard his calming whispers, but I didn’t sleep anymore.

I’m not used to fear. Normally I shrug things off, but this sits low in my gut in a constant, nagging reminder of how close I came to becoming another smear on those rocks. I’m afraid of falling, afraid of fucking sleeping, and every time rocks crumble in the distance, I’m also afraid of them.

I hate it.

Aryn is the only thing that keeps me level, and I hate that, too.

I try to hide how much it affected me, but while my mask has fooled the others, he sees right through it. He doesn’t look at me as though I’m weaker, though, even as he hovers closer during the day and secures me against his chest at night.

He looks at me like I’m worth protecting, and I don’t know how to handle that.

Vulnerability like this has always been a weakness I can’t afford, and yet here I am, drawn to him more and more with every passing hour since that day. It’s like the fall cracked something open inside me, and now I can’t stop noticing every little thing about him—the way his tail twitches when he’s on edge, the low timbre of his voice when he speaks my name, how safe I feel when he’s close.

It’s terrifying.

I don’t know how to make it stop.

I don’t know if I want to.

The further we go, the more signs of life we see. Thin trails of smoke appear in the distance, well-worn paths split off toward homesteads, and the occasional traveler passes, though they give us a wide berth. We pass another tree carved up with the Viskari symbol, but we don’t find any more burned-out camps or outright signs of violence.

Eventually, the river leads us back onto the main road, and the whole group stays alert. More people appear now. A few groups travel on foot, some ride those big horse-like creatures, and we pass a couple of farmers pulling carts. A lot of them stare at us, especially at me, Cameron, and Taryn. Some look curious, others look like they want to say something, but ultimately, nobody gives us any real trouble.

Late in the afternoon on the third day, the trees open up and we get our first look at the trading post called Thralune. It’s small, but it’s civilization, and I’m ready to be somewhere besides the middle of nowhere. No wild animal attacks, no cliff diving adventures, and maybe even a bed.

Creature fucking comforts.

The village sits in a valley where the river curves between the mountains. It forms an inlet behind the buildings, and from here I can see several fishing boats and a few piers. Purple banners with a cracked crown flap in the wind—the Vaelor’s symbol, and supposedly signaling a safe place to land.

I don’t let my guard down for a single second.

The place seems secure enough, with a tall wooden wall for protection. Two guards stand watch at the open gates. One’s a Khileon, like Thulga’s family, and the other is a black-scaled Lu’Mite. Never met a friendly one, but this one at least doesn’t seem hostile.