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“And?” Was her terse response.
“Would it kill you to admit that you’re in pain?”
“What good would it do?” This time, she turned to glance at me. “Will my wound miraculously heal itself?”
“Well, no. The point was to talk to me. Problems shared are problems halved.”
“Would you like half of my wound?” she snarked.
“I’m going to thump you with this stick,” I warned her ornery ass.
“If you do, I’ll push you off this damn log,” she growled.
“And then who’s going to help you with Almanera? Between your limp and your brain deficit, you’d be dead in seconds.”
“Brain deficit?” she echoed.
“Uh-huh,” I said, paddling quickly to get us toward the middle of the river. “You could make a fortune renting out the space between your ears.”
Zoei’s makeshift paddle landed on my knee with a wet splash.
“Are you trying to cripple us both?” I yelled over the rush of the water.
I couldn’t quite capture her response, but it sounded likeyou deserve it.
I had flown above lake dragao before, but only en-route to Nestia. Views from the hovercraft always made the lake seem like a magical green concoction—a sun-drenched treat waiting for the goddesses to sip at their leisure.
Paddling through its rushing waters was another experience entirely. Perhaps if we weren’t being hunted by a lunatic, the journey could have been quite peaceful.
The waters were greener up close, and the sun created an almost shimmering effect on the surface. I wasn’t given much time to admire its beauty. Rather, I focused on dredging the branch through the water, trying to match Zoei’s pace.
I thought she would be weaker with the leg wound and considerable blood loss, but I’d underestimated her arm strength. She paddled twice as quickly, the muscles in her biceps bunching and releasing in a mesmerizing display of strength.
A part of me wanted to berate myself for not being able to compete, but in this endeavor, I knew we were not evenly matched. Zoei favored her Sire, a ham-fisted man who prided himself on brute strength, while I favored my mother, who was tall and lean and statuesque. Zoei’s biceps alone were three times the size of mine, and she barely grunted with effort as she moved the paddle around like it weighed nothing.
I, on the other hand, was starting to strain with exertion. Just fifteen minutes into paddling and I wanted to give up.
The downstream tide aided us considerably, pushing us along even when I paused for several breaks. Zoei said nothing each time I stopped to breathe, staring straight ahead with a frown creasing her brows.
I spent most of the time charting the angle of the sun, watching as it threatened to dip below the horizon. Dusk was approaching, but slowly. Perhaps an hour away.
A sharp gasp ruined the serenity of the flowing water. I glanced at Zoei, squinting past the sunspots in my vision.
She was staring down, her gaze transfixed. For the first time since we’d set off, her paddle lay still.
Unmoving.
Streaks of red curled slowly over the broken branch, marring the shimmering beauty of the water.
Several feet ahead, a body lay face down in the riverbank. The red and gold colors they wore were distinctive. This was one of Zoei’s people laying in the dirt with a giant wound circling his neck.
“Ronan.”
Zoei knew him. My heart hurt for her as she stared at the unmoving body, barely breathing as we watched the blood drain from the large wound. It colored the shimmering green waters a ruddy red.
“Ashore,” Zoei whispered reedily, and I pushed the log to the bank with a gentle wave of the sand below us.
“Be quiet,” she warned, as though I was unaware of the imminent danger. I frowned at her back, but doubted she saw it.
