Page 52

Right. Payback. After rejecting him so thoroughly earlier, she shouldn’t have hoped there was another reason. Though what would that reasoning be? What did she hope? Nothing. There was nothing to hope for.

She sat up, gingerly pushing away from him to right herself. She held a blanket to her bare chest, realizing he’d stripped her of her wet clothes. Smart.

“Maybe just stay–” Ollie said.

But Tarley straightened, knowing she needed to be the one to hold herself up. That was the way of things, the way to be safe.

“About earlier–” he stated.

“Forgotten,” she said and attempted a weak smile.

He frowned.

Her throat suddenly felt too tight with emotion that wanted out, though she couldn’t understand its origin. This was what she wanted. She cleared her throat of it, deciding the best way to move forward was to avoid it.

“We can start for Seven’s tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure? You seem, weak–”

Tarley bristled at his statement even if it was accurate just then. She was—but didn’t want to be thought of that way. Unable to meet his gaze, she said, “I just need a good night’s sleep and some breakfast. All will be well. Did you eat dinner?”

“Tarley. Now’s not the time to be efficient and responsible. Rest,” he said and moved toward the tent’s entrance. “I’ll get you–”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

He scowled at her, shook his head, then ducked out of the tent.

Tarley took a deep breath, clearing away all the confusion clogging up her thoughts. She hated the way her heart snagged in her chest, as if there were a sharp stake inside of it, scraping at the soft tissue to make it bleed on the inside.

She was sure that returning to Sevens was the right course of action. He could get a horse and return to where he came from. She could return to the safety and predictability of her routine. Only those thoughts made her innards feel weighted with an anchor. There was a sensation that in moving toward Sevens, she’d be moving away from something very important and toward the unknown of a something dark and lonely, which, she knew, was a foolish thought indeed.

16

The hike to Sevens was slow and arduous. It left little room for talking, not that Lachlan was inclined to talk even if he’d been able. His body—usually healthy—had other intentions, it seemed, since he spent so much time trying to catch his breath. Tarley hadn’t driven them, stopping frequently to check on him, giving him the opportunity to rest, and ascertaining if they were moving too quickly.

She forced him to stop when he tried to push, giving him rations and water. At the halfway point, she offered to make camp, worried he might be overexerting himself, but he’d insisted he was fine. Really, what he needed was distance. Her proximity made it impossible to think clearly.

“I need civilization.”

She’d chuckled quietly. “Sevens as civilization,” she muttered, still amused as they continued.

The night before had punched a hole in his self-awareness. Witnessing Tarley collapse, watching her descend into unconsciousness, seeing the pain she’d faced. His helplessness had been aggravating. He’d only wanted to take it from her, willing to face death again if only to keep her from what she’d been going through.

As he’d sat in the tent, her head in his lap as he caressed her hair, he realized for the first time with utter clarity, and then shame, how right his father had been. Lachlan was selfish and immature. He had been underhanded and a coward. His father’s criticism had been right.

Perhaps Lachlan’s incredulity at not being included in decisions about his own marriage were fair, but he couldn’t forget his father’s harsh words following his ridiculous behavior.“How could I trust an immature boy with the welfare of a nation?” his father had asked, is face red with anger at learning what he’d done to Princess Truisante. “You have never thought about anyone beyond the tip of your nose. You will go to Sevens, Lachlan. I hope while you are there, you will find the means to grow a backbone and the sense worthy of being a king of Jast one day.”

Lachlan had sat in that tent, tending to Tarley, eyes shut remembering his father’s frustration, ashamed with such a harsh truth about who he’d been, and what it had taken to make him recognize it.

Rather than consider his shame and Tarley’s astute observations of his character based on his stupid boots, he focused on the Whitling Woods. As they approached the village, they left behind the mountains of their former camp giving him a change to appreciate their surroundings. It was beautiful when considered it objectively, something he hadn’t done before the attack. He’d been so preoccupied by his predicament, he hadn’t stopped to consider what was beyond the tip of his nose.

Sevens, according to Tarley, was situated at the edge of the woods at the last curve of the River Grimz before it opened up into the rich fertile farmland of the Fulstrom Valley. Giant evergreens rose like guards on duty, their jutting limbs creating shadows that seemed to hide the forest’s secrets. Peppered in between like flocks of animals were grove after grove of deciduous trees clothed in various shades of green, some flowering, some with the new fruit too young to eat. There were bushes and brambles, animals scurrying to hide in them as they walked.

Though it was daytime, Lachlan couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched from the shadows, even as he told himself he was being foolish. His mind was playing tricks on him because of the stories about the witch in the woods, the vampires, the master of ravens, the fairies.

Tarley tried to engage him in inconsequential camaraderie. She was chattering again. While he shrouded his feelings in silence, she did it with noise and movement. She was trying to smooth things over on a superficial level with him. He was still stinging at her rejection and worried by her unexpected collapse the night before, but he was more concerned about the potential danger they were walking into that might get her caught.

Tarley’s amusement about Sevens representing civilization became clear as they walked through the village. She hadn’t undersold the size of it, and he couldn’t imagine how any of its inhabitants were able to make a living. As they walked, Tarley explained that the Queen’s visit and the retinue set to arrive from the Court of Jast had provided an influx of coin and people.