Is she serious? “I’ve had better days.” I don’t attempt to hide my sarcasm.
“Gage means well.” She gives my arm a light squeeze.
“Right. Because tying me up like a slave is totally understandable.” I roll my eyes. Just try to sugarcoat this.
She frowns. “It’s not as if you gave him a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
Ky snickers behind me.
My cheeks burn. Great. Now he’s heard me quote him. He’ll never let me live this down.
Stormy must get the hint because she goes quiet. She keeps our arms linked, most likely to prevent me from falling.
My feet ache despite the cushioning in Mom’s Uggs. Today’s Thursday. Nearly a week since her funeral, since I thought she was dead. It’s almost worse not knowing. The unrelenting worry curdles my stomach. An ulcer probably formed from all of this. Some Illusoden would be good about now. Too bad Jasyn took it, the same way he rips everything from me.
The endless night continues, making it impossible to tell the time. It’s not too cold, the trees insulating what little warmth there is. Wren’s jacket is tight and uncomfortable and hard to move in. I’d ask Stormy to untie me so I can take it off, but she’d never agree, thinking I was just trying to escape. It might be true in part, but at this point, we’ve made so many turns I would never find my way back to the castle on my own.
A bubbling trickle reaches my ears, like rainwater rushing along a gutter. Faint at first, then escalating to a decent volume. We ascend a hill. When we reach its crest, I freeze. Daylight. There, just down the hill and beyond a stream. While night’s never-ending overture blankets this shore, day’s finale illuminates the opposite one. Finally.
I dig my feet in as I shuffle down the slope. For a second I’m glad for Stormy’s presence. Without my hands to catch me, a fall would probably end in a broken nose. Rocky earth changes to overgrown crabgrass and tufts of white clovers. Gray morning glory blossoms pop up at random, begging not to be choked out by its vines. On the stream’s opposite side, the flora and fauna are painted in shades of white and gray. The tree trunks are the color of ash, their leaves a mixture of butter and cream. Was it once lush and vibrant like the Haven? Robyn said eventually the Second Reflection will become a Shadow World. How much longer until the infinite night reaches its claws across the stream?
“This is the border to Wichgreen Province and the end of the Forest of Night and Shadow Territory. Everything between here and the sea is neutral ground, belonging to neither the Void nor the Verity. We won’t be completely safe until we reach the Haven, so keep your guard up.” Stormy helps me sit on the damp grass, the three men ahead of us advancing to the water. Dew seeps through my jeans. “I’m going to gather some food. Stay here.” She follows the guys, leaving me to sulk.
I scoot back and lean against a tree trunk. The uneven bark bites my spine. A headache lingers between my eyebrows. Should’ve asked Stormy to bring me some water.
“Need a hand? How about two?” Ky squats beside me, sets his flashlight on the ground between us. “I’ll untie you, but only if you ask nicely.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need your help.” I shift and squirm, attempting to get comfortable. Joshua hasn’t bothered checking on me. He stands by the stream. I study him as he takes off his boots, rolls up his pants, and wades into the water. His legs are paler than his arms but much hairier. He bends, letting the mini river flow like silk over his hands. In the next moment he straightens, a wriggling fish in his grasp.
So he’s a fisherman too? What else don’t I know about him?
He tosses the fish to Preacher on the shore, who catches it with ease and sets it on a wet rock. He draws a knife and slices down the slimy middle, cleaning out the guts and muck. I’ve never seen anyone enjoy killing a living thing the way Preacher does now. It’s the happiest he’s appeared in the brief time I’ve unfortunately known him.
If anyone thinks I’m eating that poor, murdered creature, they’re seriously mistaken.
My wrists are suddenly unbound. I whip my head left. Ky grasps the sliced rope in his fist. How did he do that? I didn’t feel a thing. “You’re welcome.” He tosses the rope into the grass, and it disappears with a hiss.
I roll and rub my wrists, unable to deny how good freedom feels. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“But you got it, Ember.” Ky rocks back on his heels and sits, knees bent.
“Don’t call me by my last name. I’m not some linebacker for the New York Giants.”
“No. You are definitely not that.” His eyes comb my body. Looking. Observing. Not the way Blake did at the party. Ky isn’t rude or gross about it. He’s just . . . watching.
“Where’s Kuna anyway?” I pick at the grass, letting my hair fall to conceal the discomfort blossoming on my cheeks. “Isn’t he supposed to be keeping an eye on you?”
“He went back there to hunt.” Ky points the way we came, then cocks his head. “I think I will call you Ember. I’ve decided it suits you better than your first name.”
“And why exactly?”
“Because an ember is neither fire nor ash. Smoldering but not truly alive. That describes you perfectly. It’s who you are. Someone must’ve burned you bad. Hasn’t anyone told you anger is unbecoming?”
The pleasure he’s apparently getting out of this sends a blaze up my arm. One of these days I’m going to punch him. And I’m not going to miss. “You tricked me into thinking we were rescuing my mom. The only person I’m angry at is you.”
“You’re a horrible liar.”
“Don’t act as if you know me.” I will Joshua to look at me, to care. He doesn’t. By now he’s caught three fish. Preacher has them cleaned and lined up in a neat, disgusting row.
“I get it, believe me. No one understands holding a grudge more than I do.” Ky reels my attention back in. Why is it so difficult to ignore him?
Stormy joins Preacher by his fish rock, holding her now-stained shirt out like a basket, a cluster of what looks to be berries resting inside. Good. At least there’ll be something edible on the menu. Joshua sloshes back to shore, two more fish in his closed fingers and a lopsided grin on his face. He used to smile at me that way.
“Forget about it, Ember. David’s a jerk. You two just aren’t meant to be.”
I cast a scowl Ky’s way. Why’s he still here? “Knock it off. I’d rather you call me princess, like before. Even if Jasyn’s not a real king.”
“You think I call you princess because of your relation to Crowe? You really are clueless, aren’t you?” He lets loose a mocking guffaw.
Not what I was expecting, but okay. Take two. “Isn’t it?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.” An elbow to my ribs.
I elbow him back. While his gesture was playful, mine has enough force behind it to make him rub his side. “Why don’t you tell me, then I’ll decide if you’re lying or not.”
“Suit yourself.” Ky crosses his legs, pulls a yellow apple from his pack. He slices it with his knife, then hands me a large chunk.
I’m too hungry to refuse him. I stuff the whole piece in my mouth. Not too crunchy or mushy. Exactly ripe.
“That mark on your face—” He points to my birthmark with the tip of his blade, and I lean away. “It has more meaning than what they’re letting on.” A quiet crunching emits from his mouth. Juice oozes onto his chin. I reach up and swipe it with my thumb, jerking away almost as quickly.