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She smiled at me, leaning up on her tiptoes to pat my cheek. “I’m not. Which is why I’m a good choice.”
“We’ll need to make arrangements,” I said. “It will take time.”
Telean nodded. “Agreed. I’ll wait as long as you need. And then I’ll take our people home.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
From the moment we’d left the others in Eprotha, a stifling politeness and awkward silence had descended between Demos and me. We’d always ignored our simmering tension, yet now, without the terror of Prisca’s fate between us, our interactions were filled with strained courtesies and stiff formality.
Even Vynthar seemed to have gotten tired of it, disappearing into the forest yesterday and failing to return when we’d made camp last night.
Thankfully, just a few hours ago, we’d finally managed to locate the rebels. There was no question that we were close. The smell of damp soil intermingled with the distant scent of searing meat from their fires.
They were well positioned, the fae lands sprawling to the west, while a wide river made a surprise attack almost impossible from the south. Enemies could only approach from the north or east, and the dense forest surrounding the camp also acted as a natural defense, while making it difficult to spot from a distance.
We’d left our horses and supplies, slipping through the forest on foot so we could survey the camp before we made our move.
Rustling sounded somewhere deeper in the woods, and I flipped my crossbow from its position hanging over my shoulder into my hands. Demos’s sword had appeared in his hand so fast I hadn’t seen him draw it.
“Behind me,” he ordered.
I didn’t argue. He waited until I was in position, and together, we crept forward. His power allowed him to move nearly soundlessly through the forest, and I stepped where he stepped.
“Up,” Demos instructed, gesturing to a tree. I climbed it slowly, carefully, well aware that the crack of a branch might draw attention. I’d expected Demos to choose his own tree, but he waited until I was carefully balanced before hauling himself up until he was crouched next to me—one foot on my branch, the other on the branch next to us.
My skin prickled as he leaned closer, until both of us were hidden among the leaves. Something tugged in my stomach. My tree had suddenly become crowded with Demos and his scent.
Scowling, I peered through the forest and into the rebel camp.
Tents—likely made from scavenged materials, but astonishingly well crafted—had been arranged in groups, all surrounding a central hub. Men and women in mismatched leathers and homespun tunics went purposefully about their tasks—training in their arena, cooking on the fires, hauling water from the river. The steady clang of hammer on steel rang out from a makeshift forge, while horses were led in and out of the large wooden building that served as their stables.
I knew now why the Gromalian king hadn’t been able to snuff out the rebels. They were a well-organized, self-sufficient army. Next to me, Demos leaned even closer. His gaze was intent as he watched a man sitting in a chair by the largest fire, signing the pieces of parchment brought to him, consulting with those who were clearly the highest ranking, and giving orders to groups of rebels as they returned to camp.
This was their leader.
Finally, when the sun began lowering in the sky, Demos seemed to have all the information he needed. He gestured, and we both climbed down from the tree, boots hitting the ground with low thumps.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll come back for you once I’ve talked to their leader.”
“I don’t think so.” Tibris was the closest thing I had to a brother. Besides, Demos was the kind of man whose very presence was a palpable threat. Infiltrating their camp would likely prompt an immediate attempt on his life. They would be more hesitant to kill a woman at first sight, which meant it was safer if I went with him.
Demos slowly turned his head, menace pouring off him in waves. I rolled my eyes. This was the exact problem.
“They’re not going to like that we made it past their sentries,” he said.
So he knew there was also a chance they might attack before asking any questions. I gestured to the crossbow slung over my shoulder. I was now deadly with it—thanks to his relentless training.
“We’re wasting time,” I pointed out.
He glanced at the skies, clearly reaching for patience. “I wouldn’t have brought you if I’d known—”
“If you’d known I would want to do everything I could to save Tibris, too? I didn’t need your permission to come here, Demos.”
He scanned my face, as if searching for a hint of weakness. I kept my expression carefully neutral and waited.
“If things go bad, you run.”
I would never run, but if I didn’t agree, he’d never relent. I nodded.
