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After a long day of travel, I start to teach Bitty some tricks to help with intuitive fighting.

“I don’t have fighting instincts!” Bitty complains.

“Instinct is not the same thing as intuition. Instinct is reacting and doing what comes naturally, but intuition is learned. The more we do this, the better you’ll get.”

Bitty gives me a dubious look but moves back into a fighting stance. “Ok, come kick my ass again.”

“Oh, I will, but this time, you can’t hit me with your hands.” I grin, as I run at them. Bitty barely has the chance to register what I’ve said before I’m on them.

I can still see everything running through their mind before they move, but they are quicker. Bitty has to rely on what they’ve learned about fighting in general rather than exactly what comes after each move they already know.

I’m about to elbow Bitty to the side of the head when they drop to the ground, twist their legs in mine so I trip, and then pin me by sitting on my back.

“Ok, I got you down, but I was so excited I couldn’t think of anything to do next that didn’t involve hands!” Bitty laughs as they roll off me, out of breath.

“Is that a usual move for you?”

“Dropping onto my ass? No!”

I nod as I sit up, raising my eyebrows and doing a dramatic shrug with my hands in the air. Bitty beams at me, and then their gaze moves over my shoulder. I turn, and behind me stands Tovi, leaning against a tree. How long she was there watching, I have no idea.

Our day is long and cold. I regret ever thinking I would miss the wind because the Nemoris wind is awful. Whenever we’re in areas that aren’t densely packed with forest, the wind feels like needles, despite the layers.

Only the incredible plant life brings me joy today. There are all manner of plants that I’ve never seen, or only read about, like a veritable expanse of teeny tiny green leaves with the teeniest tiny pale blue flowers dotted through, creating a carpet of the flowers. I want to lie down and snuggle into the cushion they create on the forest floor.

There are enormous trees of bright green leaves that start out red. With the sun streaming through, the young, red leaves at the top and at the ends of each branch turn to a bright yellowish green. The smell is intoxicating. A pungent citrusy smell with a woody, almost medicinal tang to it.

I’m not the only one in a mood—Riley’s gray pallor and pinched face suggest he’s not doing so great. This is further proven when he refuses to respond to Tovi’s playful teasing.

As if the long and cold day wasn’t miserable enough, the rain then comes in earnest. So much so that after only an hour of straight downpour, we spread out to look for a cave to shelter in. Tovi finds one first, a giant cavernous thing on the side of a mountain, but it’s out of the rain and already has a large stack of dry wood. Clearly, we are not the first to seek shelter here.

There’ll be no inn for us tonight.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It’s been two nights, and we’re still stuck in this Divine-damned cave. The rain is not as bad as it was, but there’s no sign of it letting up enough to travel.We’ve talked through all our plans, including the route and possible scenarios when we get to Erdu City Castle. It seems like breaking into the castle is our only option. But for now, I am sick of going over the same conversation again and again. This is why I like to work alone.

Riley is sitting with his back against a wall staring outside, knees bouncing and looking sweaty. He hasn’t said much to me since that night. Gone is the constant simmering smirk on his face, the lingering stares, the cheeky comments at every turn. A sullen and gray shell has been left in its place. I wouldn’t have been too worried if it wasn’t for the fact that the other three have also been looking at him with concern.

After lunch, where Riley—yet again—barely eats anything, Tovi is napping, and Bitty and Beans are stretching. Beans is telling Bitty a story of his time before he found them. Riley is back to his position against the wall, looking like he might sprint outside at any moment. Like he’s a caged animal, ready to snap.

I’m propped against the wall opposite him as I sharpen my blades, watching. His knees are bouncing again, pale skin still pallid and sweaty. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, spearing his fingers out shakily to stretch them. I’m not even sure if he’s aware he’s doing it. His eyes are glassed over as he stares down the passage. Dark circles under his eyes indicate he’s sleeping even less than he usually does, which isn’t much. Decided, I put away my knives.

I crouch down beside him, looking outside for a moment. I don’t think he has even registered my presence. “Do you want to do some hand-to-hand outside?” I whisper, and he jumps, glaring at me.

Standing without a word, he strides outside. Not waiting for me or looking at anyone. Riley’s silhouette disappears, swallowed by the rain. Looking back to Beans, he gives me a knowing nod and returns to his story with Bitty.

Riley stands in the rain with his back to me. We’re both barefoot and not wearing leathers, and his thin shirt is clinging to every muscle. Where Beans has defined muscles, cut without a single inch of fat, Riley is pure bulk. I’m still not sure who I’d put money on in a fight: Beans who is taller with muscles on top of muscles, or the slightly shorter Riley and his solid mass.

Riley has put his dark, blood-red hair in a bun, the rain already darkening it further. I watch his hands repeat their clenching before I clear my throat, and he whirls to face me, eyes rimmed in red.

We start with basic training drills to get our bodies moving. There is no force or strength behind the blows, though they get faster and faster. Mud squelches between our toes, the sounds of slapping as our hits connect over and over. We’re both covered in mud from head to toe. It’s not until Riley slips and connects a punch harder than he intended, splitting the skin over my cheekbone, that we stop.

He rushes forward to grab me before I tip over, grabbing my face in his hands so fast I don’t have time to react. And then I don't know how to react as his focus is wholly on me. Our breathing is hard, the rain smashing down as he hisses, prodding at my cheek. Hissing as if he is the one with a cut face. It doesn’t hurt, even as his hot fingers press and wipe at it. He declares it minor, and nothing is broken, before making eye contact with me. Still holding my face.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a hoarse voice, eyes flicking back to the cut. Still holding my face.

I gently tug myself out of his touch. “It was an accident, Riley.”