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“You look as though you’ve never seen the world,” Renton said with a solemn expression.
“I can’t really argue that studying maps and reading books is equivalent to traveling. I’ve only really been to Firesteep.”
“I must warn you then.” His gaze swept out to the lush isle at the end of the bridge. “The Boglands are nothing like Firesteep.”
Tenah closed her eyes and soaked in rays of sunlight. She refused to believe it would be her last time. She wouldn’t be caged again.
“It’s odd to think how cut off all the isles are,” she said. “We are gifted with such incredible magic, and we’ve reverted back to use of motorized carts and winged beasts for transport, if you’re lucky enough to convince a welkin not to shred you to pieces. We’ve taken several steps back, haven’t we?”
Her chest tightened. She’d loved talking to Ames about the technology in Nightfall—his native kingdom—though it hadn’t compared to how advanced Adra had been centuries ago, what with its snake-like machines that moved on rails.
A zing of nerves rushed through her as Renton sauntered over.
“If you had witnessed the aftermath of Roan’s Wake, you would have voted to shut down the portals too,” he said solemnly. “When Adra fell into darkness under Advanth’s rule, much of its Corrupt spilled into my homelands. I’m not sure I’ve even made a dent in their numbers.”
Tenah’s fingernails cut into her palms. Had skilled killers like him not existed, would Corrupt have already overwhelmed the isles?
Eager to finish this confusing trip with him, she stepped onto the bridge. Ahead, the Boglands offered thick curtains of vines and low, dense trees that would aid in her escape.
Renton caught her wrist. “Tenah, I—”
She spun around, teeth bared. “What.”
Again, fresh pain scrunched up his features. He took a step closer. His hand tenderly pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and all rage dissolved from her body. All that mattered was this moment, Renton holding her on the edge of something terrifying, his rough fingers trailing from her jaw down to her chin.
“I can’t help but want to save you,” he whispered.
Her heart thudded, thick and heavy in her chest, but then Renton was forcing space between them, his eyes refocusing on the Boglands.
“We’re going to take a detour,” he said.
As he set a new pace, she had to jog to keep up with him.
“Wow. Have you considered becoming a healer instead of a murderer?” she asked. “My leg feels amazing.”
She expected an anger-infused response. Instead, he laughed when a swarm of mutant insects peppered her body as soon as her boots touched down on spongy, moss-covered ground. She swatted at them, blood heating. Her boot snagged on a gnarled vine, and Renton gripped her bicep to keep her standing.
“It’s called nature,” he said.
“I lived in the forest, remember? The big, ugly house that burned down.” She slapped an insect into a pool of sludge trapped between a network of tree roots. Its legs twitched as its wings sank into the thick, black substance. “This place isn’t natural. I hate it, and I think it hates me back.”
Renton shook his head then started hacking through the overgrowth of vegetation blocking the path with a crude dagger. Their pace was slow, and Tenah languished in the humidity, so different from the dry heat back home. Within minutes, she was slick with sweat and panting. She couldn’t even appreciate the bittersweet taste of magic that infused the air.
“I’ve heard terrible things about Bogland shadows,” she said, “but how has no one ever brought up the fact that you all live in such insufferable conditions? I think I’m breathing straight water into my lungs.”
“Few outsiders survive the Boglands.” Renton lifted a hanging vine out of her way before she got caught in it. “Those that do often don’t experience the same environment here. The isle plays tricks, weaving illusions. It can affect more than one of your senses.”
Her mouth parted in surprise.
“And,” he added, his eyes bright with amusement, “Vozarians expend a great amount of energy on teaching hatred of our kind. They don’t leave much room to discuss our humidity or sludge problem.”
There was truth in his words. Tenah had overheard nobility boast about the evils of beguilers and nothing else. No wonder Ames had been opposed to her attending lectures and casting lessons in the capital. As an eastern islander himself, he wouldn’t have wanted her raised among such animosity.
“Humor me.” Renton glanced back at her. “What do the fire bloods say about us?”
She frowned. “They say you’re all barbaric. That you enslave travelers and sell them to criminals. That you kill for sport. That you drink the blood of your enemies and decorate your swamps with their skulls.” Her eyes dipped to his armor. “Though it seems you use them for other purposes. Intimidation maybe?”
Renton invaded her space, and she breathed in his crisp scent, finding herself lost in the flecks of wild yellow and green in his eyes. Was that an illusion too? A tactic to throw her off guard? “Are you intimidated?”
