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Solin had used the flames to conjure images of creatures I’d never seen before: from scaly monsters that lived in the heart of a volcano in Fulkaan, right to the smallest glowing grubs in the glaciers of Quomuz.
But now, he sat with the chief and chiefess at the head of the fire, eating the feast that had been prepared in honour of the wanderer’s arrival, and laughing at whatever the stranger said.
“Do you think he’d tell me if I asked him?” Niya asked, entirely fascinated by the visitor’s clothing.
“I’ll ask him tomorrow. Once he’s not so swarmed by everyone.” Hyath smiled. “It seems too thin to be skin and too strong to be plant. And I have no idea what those things are that keep blinding us when he moves or how they’re secured.”
“What do you think, Runa?” Niya asked, tossing my uneaten roasted cattails to Natim where he curled up his long fawny legs and warmed himself by the fire.
Syn was elsewhere, stalking the younglings for feast scraps, filling her belly until she burst.
“Me?” I blinked, dragging my attention from the stranger.
My nape prickled as I thought of another stranger who’d once fascinated me. A stranger who now had a name, yet seemed determined to stay as far away from me as possible. Glancing at the outskirts of the clearing, my gaze found Darro where he sat cross-legged with Zetas sleeping beside him.
He hadn’t eaten any of the feast and the faint ruby tinge around Zetas’s muzzle hinted they’d shared their own dinner before joining the celebrations.
“Yes, do you recall any more of your past? Maybe seeing his clothing triggered something?” Niya prompted. “A memory of—”
“It’s called a farna,” Aktor muttered over my shoulder.
By the fire, can’t he leave me alone?
I stiffened, cursing that he’d sought me out yet again. I’d hoped with the excitement of a new guest, he’d be busy with his parents, playing the part of heir.
Niya and Hyath turned to face him, their smiles genuine and no longer suspicious. I couldn’t blame them for buying into his suave act. He’d played his part of a doting betrothed to perfection and had somehow erased my friends’ memory of what he and Kivva had done to me and Darro.
“A farna?” Hyath asked, nibbling on her last mouthful of roasted pigeon.
“I asked him myself.” Aktor crossed his arms with a boastful grin, his ash-snake seeming to hiss in the firelight. “His name is Rakka and he’s originally from the Vetak kingdom. His village grow worms that create something called silk. The glittery bits are chips of sapphire they trade their silk for, and they glue them on somehow, so they don’t come off. You should ask to feel it. The silk is even softer than rabbit fur.”
“Did he bring any of those worms with him?” Niya asked. “Or more...what word did you use? Sapphires?”
“You’ll have to ask him. I doubt it. He’s travelled from the very north to the very south. He said it took him many years to explore from Ravi to Wai and everywhere in between.”
Aktor’s ebony gaze landed on me, burning into the back of my head because I refused to turn around and face him. But I felt his stare. Felt it far too keenly.
“He speaks multiple languages and has many tales. He’s ready to tell some of those tales, that’s why I’m here.” His fingers tapped my shoulder, sending a shudder through me. “Solin requested I retrieve you, Runa. You’re wanted beside the Fire Reader and in your rightful place as his successor.”
“Beside you, you mean?” I snipped, glancing to where Darro sat.
He no longer relaxed but vibrated with violence.
His legs had come up and his arms were wrapped tight around his knees as if restraining himself. His hands balled into weapons; his face chiselled into furious stone.
Zetas no longer napped beside him either, her yellow gaze locked onto her packmate as if fearing he’d explode at any moment. The haze of his shadows danced in the night, blanketing his shoulders with black wings.
Two emotions hit me.
One, an overwhelming crest of longing made it hard to breathe. I wanted to be sitting beside him. Whispering with him. Sharing the night with him. I couldn’t deny he still wanted me when he acted like this—like he’d happily rip off Aktor’s fingers and then his arms for daring to touch me.
But then, anger doused my longing.
Darro could’ve chosen to sit beside me. He could’ve stayed close and staked his claim and slipped into the Nhil way of life, same as me. We were running out of time to figure out how to break the blood bind and it made me furious that he was wasting it by staying away from me, all because of some misplaced idea that he would hurt me.
He would never hurt me.
