AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Just eat your food,” she said. “The sooner you’re done, the sooner we can leave.”
Hawthorn did as instructed, and a few minutes later, they set off again.
To begin with, it was a pleasant hike. He’d never been this far into Autumn before. A myriad of colours shone in the dawn light, reds, greens, browns, golds. The soft, quick breeze was pleasant too, the coppery aromas of earth and sunlight.
It lost its pleasantness after a few hours, when his calves grew sore, his chest tight and breathless. He looked to Juliana, hoping she showed similar signs of strains, but although her cheeks were red and her eyes dark from lack of sleep, she didn’t seem to be struggling.
When they were children, he’d hated that about her, hated how she dared to make things look easy she had no right to be the master of. She was mortal, magicless, and yet few could match her in the training ring, few had her stamina or could balance for as long, with such focus.
It still irked him now, but he admired it, too.
He certainly wasn’t about to throw stones at her now to throw her off balance.
“I will admit,” he said, stirring against the silence, “I was not overly keen on seeing Lucinda again, but this was not precisely how I imagined getting out of it.”
Juliana paused, ever-so-briefly. “Howdidyou imagine getting out of it?”
“Hmm, good question. Throwing myself from the carriage, perhaps. Creating an injury.”
“You could just pretend, you know.”
“We are not so good at that. Pretending.” He knew that was wrong as soon as he said it, that most of them were skilled at pretending, and that perhaps there were things that he pretended, too.
But faking injurieswashard.
“Next time you need me to lie on your behalf to get out of seeing Lucinda, let me know,” Juliana said. “Or… I could help you with a real injury. If you like.”
“A kind offer,” he returned. “But I shall decline.”
They headed further into the forest. Around midday, feeling weak from hunger, they stopped beside a stream to hunt for fish. Juliana set Hawthorn the task of starting a fire—one task he felt particularly adept at—while she tried to skewer passing trout with her blade.
He rather enjoyed watching her fail at it.
“I thought you’d be better at fishing.”
She looked up from her endeavour to scowl at him. “Usually, I’d have a line, and tackle—“
“There are other ways to fish, Jules.”
“Oh? Pray tell me, master of the craft.”
Hawthorn leapt up and sauntered towards the water, raising his hands in an arch. With a quick flick of his wrists, he scooped out a chunk of water, fish and all, and sploshed it against the bank.
Jules glared at him.
“Admit it, you’re a little impressed.”
“You couldn’t have done thatbefore?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Ugh!” She threw her hands up in the air, and then brought one down to skewer the fish. Hawthorn winced at the sight of it wriggling. She lifted it over the fire and drove her hilt into the mud to cook it.
“You have your uses,” she admitted, with painful reluctance.
“On a scale of one-to-ten as a travelling companion—“
“Two.”
