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“What?” Della snaps before I can utter another word. “Did you at least think to bring payment in exchange for her help?”
Payment? That demon mentioned nothing about the cost. Panic rises as I do a mental inventory of everything I brought, and there is not a single coin among my possessions.
“Her magic will have a price,” Cassius says gently.
I take a deep breath. “I will give the witch whatever she wants.”
“You should be more careful about making such an offer, especially to someone so powerful they could ask for more than you’re willing to give,” he warns.
For Alaric, there is nothing I wouldn’t give.
“It doesn’t matter. She can rip my heart from my chest if that’s what it takes.”
Silence descends upon our little group. Lawrence, who has been silent for a while, gives me a sidelong glance, his expression, unreadable. When I meet his eye, he looks away.
I would offer the oracle witch my heart on a silver platter if she asked for it. I don’t know when it happened or how, but something changed. It’s impossible to pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but it was somewhere between my return to Windbury and agreeing to come to Nightwich with Alaric.
Somehow, that vampire, my mortal enemy, became dear to me. I regret not telling him as much the last time we were together. With the steady swaying of the horses, I lose myself in thoughts and memories.
We ride until dawn in silence, slowing to a walk halfway through the long night. Eventually, the sun lightens the sky on the other side of the mountains, bringing a small amount of warmth with it.
Cassius pulls the horse to a stop, and Della and Lawrence follow suit.
“We’ll rest here for a few hours,” Cassius says as he dismounts.
I try to move my leg over the horse’s neck, but two strong hands grip my waist and lift me off the horse, setting me on firm ground. Taking one step, I stumble, not expecting my legs to be so sore and tired. Cassius steadies me.
Lifting my head to thank him, I swallow the words down. He’s not even looking at me, too busy having a silent conversation with Lawrence. Cassius nods decisively. Then Lawrence and Della take off running on foot toward the south with vampire speed.
“Where are they going?” I ask.
Cassius drags his gaze to mine, letting go of my arms when he’s sure I won’t fall over. “They are headed south to Gloamfarrow for supplies. You should have a seat. You look exhausted. Did you sleep at all?”
“Was I supposed to sleep?”
He doesn’t answer, only laughs, pulling out a small packet from my bag and handing it to me. Unwrapping the wax paper, I break the teek bread in half and offer it to him. He waves it off.
“That will not sustain me,” he says with tension in his words that makes me nervous. “Sit and eat. I will gather wood to build a fire.”
I look at the vast openness of the world around us. “You need to feed.”
Should I offer him my blood? Afterall, it’s my fault that he’s out here. With how fast he secured our reason for leaving and packing a small bag, I doubt he had the opportunity to feed before we left Nightwich. He either didn’t trust me to wait for him, or he understood the urgency… I suspect that it’s the former—he practically said as much.
Cassius eyes me like he might want to do more than feed. I take a large bite of the teek bread and take in the vast plains. The ground is hard and flat. So far, other than a handful of copses and stretches of dried grass, the earth has been mostly hard, cracked mud.
At my back is the edge of a small, wooded area. The sound of a nearby stream follows the line of trees.
“Do not worry yourself about that, little bird. Della and Lawrence will bring reserves. We planned for this. Now sit and eat.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to stand around and watch you do all the work. Let me help.”
“Fine, you can help me gather what we need. Look for dried moss, leaves, and sticks. I’ll gather the pieces.”
We go our separate ways, gathering everything until there is enough for Cassius to build a fire that will last several hours. He kneels, arranging the wood we gathered, then pulls a flint from his pocket and strikes again and again. Sparks fly, landing on a nest of moss and twigs nestled in the center.
“Why don’t you take the horses to the stream for water?” He braces his hands on his knees and straightens, then points toward the trees. “It will give you a chance to stretch your legs while I set up the tent.”
Taking up the horses’ reins, I lead them to the nearby small stream surrounded by a small copse of barren trees. The trunks are a ghostly white with dark patches that look like claw marks. I munch on the teek bread, struggling to chew. Even taking sips between bites, it takes a while.
