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Even with the heartbreak I’m enduring now, I’d do it again.
“You’re right,” I concede. “You’re absolutely right. I suppose what I’m getting at is, we still have two challenges to get through, and there’s no point in dwelling on the past.”
“The past,” she responds, monotone. “Of course. That’s what the challenge was about. So I guess we can just move on from it.”
In my peripheral vision, she crosses her arms, furrows her eyebrows, and flattens her lips.
I’m not the best at reading women. I simply don’t have the experience to guide me when it comes to the female mind, but I can see I’ve pissed her off.
But why? I told her she was right and I released her from any obligation to me. Isn’t that what every woman would want to hear in this situation?
Our hike continues, and it’s tedious. We don’t speak for many minutes as our feet sink into the sand with every step.
Normally, I’m not much of a talker, especially when I’m on a mission, but our brooding silence is too much to bear.
I miss hearing Ro’s voice, even after just a short time without it.
“Where do you think we’re supposed to go?” I ask under the guise of discussing our plan, which is a safe, neutral subject.
“I don’t think it’ll take long to find out,” Ro theorizes, still seeming a little frosty.
“Why is that?”
“Well, this is boring.” She waves a hand at our ugly surroundings. “And if we’re bored, so is Armand. Now, if we were to—”
Abruptly cutting herself off, she closes her mouth before the rest of the sentence comes out.
“What?” I press. “If we were to what? If you have a suggestion, I want to hear it.”
Blushing, she drops her gaze to the ground. “If we were to getdistractedas we did before… Armand would either watch us or interrupt us. But since we’re not doing anything fun or interesting, he’ll steer us to the action.”
I’m not sure if it’s coincidental timing or Armand’s doing, but her prediction conjures up a change.
In the distance, through a fleeting cloud of dust, there’s an outline of a structure—the tiptop of something. It’s tall and thin, like a spire or a steeple.
“Look.” I raise my sword toward the horizon. “A building.”
Ro squints. “Is that a castle?”
“I can’t tell from this far away.”
“Then let’s hurry.” She picks up her speed, moving into a jog.
“We don’t have to rush.” While I match her pace, I study her slender frame.
Her dress is hanging on her instead of fitting snugly as it did before. Just like I regained my scars, her body went back to a state of starvation. I’m worried about conserving her energy.
“You’re just afraid to race me,” she quips, quickening her stride.
“Afraid? Afraid of leaving you in the dust maybe.” I can’t help teasing her.
She harumphs. “We’ll see about that.”
Breaking out into a run, she gets ahead of me. With her short legs, she has to take twice the number of steps I do, but she’s surprisingly fast.
I catch up with her. She goes faster.
Within moments, we’re sprinting like two children with a high stakes bet.
