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‘It has nothing to do with …’ I faltered, remembering just in time that using names, even on a low whisper, would be a sure way of drawing attention. ‘Withthat. I’m trying to win a war here, alright?’
He raised an eyebrow.You’re not alone in that.
‘Really?’ I muttered sharply. ‘Shouldn’t you stop provoking alves, in that case?’
The silence fell too icily, and only then did I hear the sharp accusation below those words, the edge of my frustration. For the blink of an eye, his fingers hung motionless between us. Then he snapped to his feet with a brusque shrug and strode past me the way he’d walked off last night – all aloof disinterest, all arrogant spite.
‘Creon!’
Too loud. Too desperate. Every single eye around the clearing snapped towards me, no longer even pretending not to be watching me.
Kneeling by his bags, Creon did not turn around.
Oh,fuck.
Sudden tears stung my eyes, painfully hot against the morning cold – so I was only making things worse, now? Creating trouble even if there hadn’t been any trouble up to this point, even if hehadbeen fine until five minutes ago?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
‘What’s going on?’ Edored said loudly, his hand already on his sword hilt. ‘Are you alright, Nosebreaker?’
He really had no right – no damn right at all – to start using that moniker now, to remind me that I was still family, that he was being an insufferable bastard only out of the purest concern for my wellbeing. I mumbled some unconvincing reassurance, focusing my gaze on the half-eaten bread in my fingers, blinking away the misty haze snaking into my sight.
Creon ignored the accusing looks of the alves with seasoned indifference. He did not grant me the sorriest excuse for a smile during the torturously long minutes of our travel preparations, either, and when we hit the road in tense, tired silence, he lingered ten strides behind me, apparently preferring Edored’s company in the back of the line to mine.
A clearer message than any hand signs could have conveyed; whatever game he was playing, I’d played it wrong.
But what in hell was he trying to do, if it required treating me like a gods-damned stranger for days around people who knew damn well we were no strangers to each other?
I’m fine.
And yet …Did you expect me to be happy about it?
Was that the point he was trying to make? A demonstration of just how unhappy this journey was making him, if civilised discussion wouldn’t convince me to change my ways?
That … that didn’t sound like him, did it?
I shouldn’t have been panicking – not until I’d talked with him, not until I knew what truly bothered him. But not panicking was easier said than done in hours and hours of walking with nothing else to do; every step was another moment to imagine all that might be wrong, all I might be ruining at this very moment by not running to him and swooning in his arms. Was that what he wanted me to do, then? Damn the opinions of the rest of the world, damn the allies we so desperately needed?
Perhaps it was. He’d always done better on his own, after all – but did he really expect me to follow him there?
And if he did, how hard could it be to just tell me?Em, I don’t think I can handle this after all– that was a message I could work with. This ridiculous combination of reassurances and the opposite of them … what did he want me to make of that?
By the time we crossed a clearing and caught the first glance of Zera’s legendary temple, still miles away from the hill on which it was built, I was too agitated to care much about the marble spires jutting from the foliage or the sea of wild flowers growing over the arches, claiming the sanctuary for themselves. All I could see were walls. Walls meant a chance at privacy. Privacy meant a chance at honesty, or at least at explanations.
But once again the continent was larger than I’d imagined, and it took hours until we finally reached the foot of the hill, from where a rickety wooden staircase wound up the steep slope. The sun was long past its highest point by that time. My frustration had deepened to a throbbing headache, and each glance at Creon only added to the injury, his unwavering mask about as comforting as a blade to the throat.
I’d thought of him as an overly flattering portrait come to life on my arrival at the Crimson Court. He’d turned back into that gorgeous, dangerous shell – but it seemed an entirely different disguise now that I knew the male hiding below, the single damn person I loved more than anyone else in the world.
Hedidn’tdoubt that, did he?
The half-rotten wooden steps groaned alarmingly as we climbed the hill, splintering every now and then below a careless foot. I found myself half-wishing I would trip spectacularly and tumble down the slope; even Tared could hardly complain if Creon were to jump after me to save my neck.
But my limbs behaved annoyingly well, my body more in control of itself than it had ever been thanks to months of daily training sessions. I reached the top of the hill with sore feet and a clammy back, but otherwise unharmed.
Chapter 11
Thespacethatopenedup before me must once have been a lovely garden.
