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In a good way.
A new way that has me second-guessing my every move.
Kiaran elbows me at some point and laughs, and I don’t know why, but my mouth twitches.
“What?”
“You relax.”
“Yeah, yeah. Trying.” I swallow the rest of my ale to buy myself time. Being around Kiaran is like having a puppy—a big, strong, sexy puppy—and the thought almost makes me choke on the ale.
Relaxing doesn’t mean I’ll turn into Taj and fuck everything in sight, right?
Good thing I can’t see.
“Tell us,” I say to hide my slight unease, “what did you decide about our journey south? Can we buy provisions here?”
“Probably,” Taj says. “We’ll have to see if the innkeeper is still in a good mood. I mean, we weren’t that loud, were we?”
Heat rushes over my skin. I open my mouth but no sound emerges.
Dammit.
“The clothes fit us,” Ariadne says. “Taj still has coin, enough to buy food for the way, maybe a blanket or two. We’ll pass through the town, buy what we can, and be on our way.”
“You’re afraid the Temple might recognize us,” I say.
“Aren’t you?”
I shrug. “Many things could go wrong.”
“Such an optimist,” Taj says. “What about you, Kiaran? What do you think? It’s a straightforward plan, isn’t it?”
“You are coming with us, Kia, aren’t you?” Ariadne whispers. “Have you made up your mind?”
I had forgotten that Kiaran was with us only temporarily, until he decided what to do.
When he doesn’t reply, the knot in my stomach tightens. I thought that was set, I thought this group was tight. I let my guard down last night with them, but he’s still unsure?
Resisting an urge to grab and shake him, I stuff my mouth with the last bit of bread. “We need to reach Stalia or Tarcsto before the snows.”
“I thought winter would be milder down south,” Ariadne says.
“It is.” Taj chews loudly. Probably with his mouth open, the uncouth bastard. “But there are marshes and they freeze just enough to let you wander over them only to suck you in at unsuspected moments.”
“Have you traveled all over the Empire?”
“No, but I’ve been to the south, twice, on two separate campaigns. If we manage to cross over here”—he places a cup down on the floor with a small thump—“and reach Stalia, as you say, before the marshes freeze over, we stand a good chance of continuing down, maybe by boat if we manage, to Pise or Sutri.”
“Are those towns pro-Fae?” Ariadne asks quietly. She sounds worried. Probably as much about the journey as about Kiaran’s lack of response.
“They were last I heard,” I say. I think of my parents’ last message, a few months ago, which used the code we had always used to say that things hadn’t changed. “The cities in the Rising Moon Lands are Fae-friendly.”
Not a written message. Obviously. They had sent me seeds in a small pouch.
I planted them in the garden of the Temple, in a small town close to the Summer Capital. That was before the Unnamed god spoke to me and I made the mistake of listening.
Or so I thought until recently. A mistake. An error in judgment. A loss of self-control. But that mistake led me to Ariadne. To them.
