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Eno huffed and turned away from them. Drayce appreciated Caelan’s defense, but he knew there was a kernel of truth to Eno’s words, and it fucking sucked. He’d hesitated when the first cat attacked, and he’d panicked with another, going through the entire magazine when a couple of bullets would have been fine. He needed to be smarter than this. Caelan’s life depended on him getting his head out of his ass and being a soldier like Eno.
“While this has been enlightening, we need to get moving,” Rayne drawled in a low voice. He carefully stepped through their bloodbath and picked up one of the dropped lanterns. He squinted at it as if checking to make sure nothing had gotten broken. “I’d rather not hang around if anyone happened to be close enough to hear that noise.”
“Let’s move,” Caelan said testily. He snatched up another lantern and walked to the front of the line as they resumed their march. Drayce fell in line behind Caelan, grabbing one of the last lanterns in the rough and carefully stepping over the bodies. Eno and Rayne were silent behind him, but Eno’s words were still ringing in his ears.
Caelan wasn’t just his best friend; he was the prince. The only prince of Erya. The funny thing was that he wasn’t accustomed to thinking of Caelan as a prince, but simply as his best friend. The guy he spent the vast majority of his time with. The only person in the world who got him and enjoyed hanging with him.
It just didn’t enter his brain that Caelan Talos—moody, hot guy with a sarcastic comment always waiting on the tip of his tongue—was the same guy who would one day lead an entire kingdom and bond with the Godstone, taking in the powers of gods. Not the kind of thing a person thinks about when you’re drinking at three in the morning and shouting at video games.
But the fact was, Caelan was the future of Erya, and he had to be protected at all costs. That was his job on this trip. Not to be best buds and make his friend laugh. No, he had to keep Caelan safe, and he was proud to be one of Caelan’s protectors.
Those thoughts swirled through his brain as they marched on. He kept one eye on the trees and shadows as they moved. They were still being watched, but Drayce didn’t feel as if they were breathing down their necks any longer. The death of the striped cats had convinced the other creatures of the Ordas to back off and watch them from a safer distance.
Drayce didn’t know how much time had passed before Eno finally called a halt to their trek. They’d stumbled into a clearing that was flat enough for them to set up a couple of tents. Drayce seriously considered just collapsing on the ground and sleeping wherever he fell, but a tent meant protection from the bugs and maybe a little protection from things with claws.
He and Caelan worked on the two tents while Rayne stood guard and Eno gathered up some firewood.
“Do we really need a fire?” Drayce asked as they drove in the last stake for the second tent. He glanced at his watch—grateful that he’d gone with an old-fashioned mechanical rather than a flashy digital one—and wished he hadn’t. “The sun is going to be up in less than four hours.”
“I’m going to put up protection,” Caelan replied softly, to which Drayce lifted one brow. His friend smirked at him. “You’ll see.”
“I also thought I’d make coffee in the morning,” Rayne added.
“Oh, gods yes,” Drayce moaned. The idea of spending all the next day walking to Caspagir through the Ordas as it tried to kill them was made tolerable only through the promise of coffee. Even if it meant rationed sugar and crappy powdered creamer.
“Any chance you’re going to throw your sausage sandwiches on at the same time?” Eno inquired as he returned carrying an armload of wood. He dropped it loudly near the center of the camp and kneeled, starting to prepare the fire.
Rayne stood over Eno, his nose wrinkling slightly. “It depends. Did you manage to find any wood that wasn’t green or wet?”
“Not much. Pull what I got aside for breakfast tomorrow.”
“We’ll make another trip out to search when the sun rises,” Rayne said absently.
Drayce sat in front of the tent he’d be sharing with Caelan and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He was exhausted to the bone, and he was pretty sure he was going to fall asleep before he crawled into the tent, which was stupid. The Ordas was trying to kill them. How could he ever sleep again?
But his body wanted sleep regardless of what his brain was telling him.
He’d wait, though. He had a feeling that his friend was going to do a trick he’d never seen, and it likely had to do with the Godstone. He wasn’t going to miss this for anything.
