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Areanel couldn’t help scrutinising the way he opened and closed his mouth, stuttering like a siren caught out of water. When his eyes widened, flittering around the trees in search of something that wasn’t there, Areanel’s gaze turned assessing.

A hand smacked her shoulder, jostling her from her thoughts. With his arms slung around her and Nymlaris’s shoulders, Percival grinned down at her. ‘What are you two whispering about?’ Sweat fell from the hair at his temple, landing on the bridge of his nose and rolling down.

‘Nothing,’ Nymlaris snapped, shaking out of Percival’s hold. ‘Ugh! Get off me. You stink!’

He wasn’t wrong. Areanel wasn’t as tall as her brothers, so when Percival wrapped his arm around her shoulder, his pungent odour stuffed itself up her nose, making her stomach roil.

‘It’s not that bad,’ Percival defended, but as he spoke, he raised his arm off Nymlaris, nostrils flaring as he sniffed. The sudden recoil had Areanel biting back a smile. ‘Okay. So, maybe it is,’ he said around a gag.

‘Well, if you’d listened earlier,’ Nymlaris lectured, ‘and didn’t have to run all the way here on Ilymathar, baking in the sun, then maybe your wolf wouldn’t have been so thirsty, and you wouldn’t be so sweaty.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Percival waved a dismissive hand, still refusing to let go of Areanel. Instead, his arm tightened around her, pulling her and her nose further into the rancid scent. ‘But where’s the fun in that, Nym. Right, sissy?’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

‘Get off me,’ her words muffled against his chest, struggling to push him away with her arms trapped between their bodies.

Percival’s frame blocked her from Nymlaris, but she heard the familiar crunch of leaves beneath his boots as he sauntered away.

Pushing against him, Areanel managed to slip an arm out from under his hold and pinch his side. Hard.

Flinching back, he scowled at her. ‘Ouch!’

Ignoring him, Areanel turned to catch up with Nymlaris, but he had already reached the front of the wagon. His hands skimmed over his clothes, patting his hair as he talked to Sevain, who trotted beside on his tawny gelding.

‘Hey, Percy?’ Areanel asked when he fell in step with her. They were farther from the wagon, where none could hear. She glanced between the wagon and Percival’s profile, then back again.

‘Hmm?’ he hummed.

‘We haven’t been able to talk for a while.’ The questioning raised eyebrow had her quickly adding, ‘Just the two of us, I mean. And, well, there’s something I wanted to tell you…’ Her voice fell away, suddenly unsure of how to broach the topic.

‘Yes?’ Percival probed. ‘Wait a minute.’ His eyes suddenly widened, and he turned abruptly, gripping her shoulders as he walked backwards. ‘Oh, gods! Don’t tell me; you’re pregnant, again!’ He was practically shaking her by the end of his sentence.

‘What?’ Her voice came out as a squeak.

Percival ignored the way her head vigorously shook in denial. ‘Rymedur really needs to give you some breathing room, Rea. Aurora’s barely a toddler, and another child would—’ He rambled on, not paying attention to the numerous heads that whipped in their direction by his raised voice and the words that tumbled out of him.

Areanel slapped a hand against his that still held her by the shoulders. ‘No! Stop.’ She flicked a finger at his nose, abruptly halting his rambling. ‘I am not pregnant, you idiot!’

Percival laughed at her reaction, swatting her hand away like he was trying to hit a buzzing fly. ‘Fine. What is it then?’

‘About what happened with the council…’ The way his chuckle died in his throat and the sudden way his grin fell was a jarring reaction that had Areanel’s resolve wavering. Maybe this wasn’t the right time? But she needed to say it. To apologise.

Steeling herself, Areanel took a deep breath before the words tumbled from her mouth. ‘Percy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for the conversation to turn to him.’ Percival’s eyelids slammed closed, his nostrils flared, and he abruptly turned his back to her. ‘I should have known,’ she explained, ‘that bastard Eborthorn would have brought up Ti—’

‘Don’t.’ The single word was clipped, curt. A command. His hands had curled into fists and his strides had become harsh as his boots slammed into the dirt.

‘Percy—’

‘I said—’ he interrupted with a yell that had her taking a cautious step back. For a moment, he had sounded like their father—filled with rage.

It startled Areanel, how his fists shook at his side, and his pale face had taken on a sudden purple tinge, veins bulging in his strained neck as he leaned further into her space before speaking through clenched bared teeth. He must have seen something in her face, though, because Percival took a second to take in a steady breath. Rubbing a hand down his face, he sniffled, and his tone was calmer as he addressed her. ‘Can we not talk about it?’

‘You must talk about it eventually, Percy. It’s not healthy to keep it locked away.’

Still, he refused to look at her, but his steps had slowed to match her pace. ‘Oh, yeah?’ He sent her a sceptical look. ‘If we’re being so honest and sharing our… past experiences, why don’t you tell me what happened in The Pit?’

The question had her muscles going rigid. He wasn’t wrong. She was being a hypocrite. Sucking on her teeth, Areanel relented. ‘Fine,’ she sighed. ‘We won’t talk about it.’

‘Thought so,’ Percival snorted. Then, after a silent moment, he added, ‘I am talking to someone about it. So, you don’t have to worry about me.’ That easy smile returned, but it wasn’t the one that brightened his eyes. Suddenly, Areanel felt sorry for dredging up the past. He had been doing so well.