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I could win. Easily.
But I let Ro gain a good ten feet on me—not too far away that I can’t protect her, but enough distance between us that she knows she’s beating me.
When she glances back to see how behind I am, I’m rewarded with her triumphant laugh. Despite my agitation, my foul attitude dissipates from the lovely sound.
It’s wonderful to see her like this.
Carefree. Fun.
She’s holding up the bottom of her dress so she’s not inhibited by the fabric, and the skirt swishes around her thighs. Her arms are pumping, and some hair comes loose from her braid. The wild strands fly behind her, whipping in the breeze.
I love these fleeting, wondrously happy moments with her. There’s something magical about finding joy in each other’s company, even when we have every reason to be too terrified to have fun.
Unfortunately, Ro’s stamina is lacking, and we haven’t gotten more than a quarter mile before she slows down.
With ragged huffs, she declares, “I’m a little out of shape. You’re going to win.”
“We passed the finish line somewhere back there.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder, accepting my loss.
When Ro turns around and starts walking backward, she’s wearing that grin I love, but her happy expression quickly morphs to one of shock. Her lips form an ‘O’ as her jaw goes slack.
“What?” I ask, spinning in a full circle to make sure there isn’t anything following us.
“You,” Ro breathes out. “You were smiling for a second.”
“I was?” I touch my face, which has returned to my normal frown.
“Don’t do that,” she softly commands, halting as she puts herself in front of me.
“Do what?”
“Stop smiling.”
Gazing at the sand, I admit, “My mouth is crooked because of my scar.”
“Hence, the ‘resting bitch face’ you mentioned?’”
I resume a sluggish stroll beside her because it’s easier to talk about this while we’re not facing each other. “It’s off-putting. I try not to impose by making anyone uncomfortable with it.”
“Kai, you shouldn’t avoid smiling because you think it would bother someone. And if they are bothered by it, they’re assholes. And you shouldn’t care about what assholes think anyway. A person is worth so much more than what they look like.”
She’s full of conviction, and I believe she believes all that.
Perhaps in the Earth realm, this is the idyllic opinion to have—a person’s value isn’t placed on their outward appearance—but I can’t imagine such a world where that sort of compassion exists, and it definitely doesn’t in Valora.
Among the fae, perfection isn’t just the norm, it’s expected.
A particularly strong gust of wind blows, and some of the dust clouding my view of the horizon clears.
A solid granite wall isn’t far off. Houses loom behind it, and a large arched opening leads to a street.
I recognize the city.
“It’s Sterling,” I mutter with surprise.
“The capital of Dawn and Dusk?” Ro cocks her head curiously. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” I gesture to the pointy top of the building I saw earlier. “That’s the belltower of the temple.”
