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“We’re not going to make it ten days,” she said again.
“Not ten days,” I panted, sweat breaking out on my forehead as I tried to hold my weight without her help. “We just have to make it back to the crash site.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Almanera’s goons will be there,” she rebutted.
“My people will be there as well. I have faith. They will be looking for us.”
In the silence that followed, I listened to her heartbeat, steady and calm as she weighed our options.
“Will you bet your life on it?” she asked quietly. “And mine?”
I nodded without pause, certain beyond all doubt that several search parties were already in the area.
“Then I guess we’re heading back to the crash site.”
“We will have to cross it to return to Highblade Palace. Consider it a pit stop.”
“As long as it doesn’t cost us our lives.”
I took a step forward without her help, then another.
“Famous last words,” I muttered under my breath.
Chapter Twenty-One
Olympia
I’ve always wanted you.
It’s always been you.
Always.
I’d spent the day in a daze, hearing Zoei’s words over and over again. They seemed to tangle with each breath until they looped like a holy chant in the echoing hollow.
It made sense now. Before, I couldn’t quite understand why she had reacted so quickly and rashly to the mere suggestion that I may have been involved in the assassination attempt. Even knowing her volatile nature, the reaction had seemed quite extreme.
But now, everything seemed to fall into place.
Hate and love—they were two extremist emotions that sometimes entwined indistinctly.
Those who love often fall into the abyss of hate. Those who hate are redeemed by love.
But this afternoon, it seemed as though she had forgotten her words from the night before. Perhaps it had been the pain that had made her so transparent, reaching into her heart and unearthing words she would not-so-readily part with if she were fully conscious.
But a part of me savored the truth like a piece of candy that never ran out of sweetness. In my mind, I listened to her words over and over again, prying aparthowshe’d recited them—the breathless sincerity and strained candor were a departure from Zoei’s prickly self.
It was as though she’d wanted to cough up the truth before it was too late.
In the scorching light of day, however, the ingenuous shadow of Zoei was long gone. In its place was a wounded animal with a cantankerous attitude.
As Zoei dragged her bad leg along the riverbank, it became increasingly obvious that she wasn’t going to make it five miles. The scent of blood was sharp in the air, and without looking, I could tell that the wound had reopened with her movement.
“Stop.”
She ceded to my command, turning towards me. Her skin had a slightly gray pallor, and sweat beaded along her forehead like a crown.
Harsh breaths punched in and out of her chest.
