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“Eldrion is right. We have covered enough distance,” Kaelan said, scanning Anthea from head to toe.

She wanted to argue, wanted to tell them she was good to continue. But the iron grip on her arm made her pause, made her hold her tongue.

“Find a cave, a rock overhang, anything to shelter us from this rain. We’ll follow soon,” Eldrion instructed the others.

Anthea looked away from Kaelan and Haldrian as they passed them, refusing to see the disappointment on their faces. She kept her eyes on the ground, angry tears slipping down her cheeks, mixing with the rain.

Eldrion waited, waited until the others were outside hearing distance.

Then his fingers grasped her chin, lifting it gently, making her meet his eyes. “I am only going to ask you this once—what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He was angry.

“I’m not doing anything. I’m just . . . I . . .” Anthea choked, stepping back, out of his grasp. She couldn’t say it, couldn’t say she had just tried to keep up with them. That she had just tried to walk up a mountain. And she couldn’t even do that right. After her meltdown at the Iron court, they all thought she was weak and incapable anyway—how could she tell that to Eldrion? No. She wouldn’t, couldn’t. She needed to go inside that cave and see it through. She couldn’t risk them stopping her. “The others are waiting.” Anthea made to step past him to continue walking. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“They can wait. We are not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

“I-I don’t want to.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.

“Fuck, Anthea. I am here to protect you, and I cannot do that if you don’t tell me what’s going on. What do I have to do to make you see you can trust me?” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, his touch warming her chilled skin.

“It’s not . . . it’s not that I don’t trust you, Eldrion.” Anthea kept her eyes downcast on the distant stream. She felt a palm cup her cheek.

“Look at me. Please.”

She complied, raising her eyes. Her breath hitched as she looked into his concerned gray ones. Dark hair was plastered to his face, drops of water adorning his cheekbones. She knew he could see her tears— she hated herself for crying and him for knowing.

“Tomorrow, I will have to watch you walk inside that cave not knowing what would await you there,” Eldrion said, brushing her tears away with his thumb.” I cannot follow you there. I wish I could, but I cannot . . .” He trailed off, removing his hand from her face. “Please tell me what’s going on?”

“I just . . . I tried to keep up with you today. But I couldn’t,” she whispered. “Maybe I am as weak as you all think I am,” she added quietly, looking down again.

“You’re not weak.” He took her chin, lifting her face. “I’ve seen you,” he continued, his voice softening. “I’ve seen you fall and get back up again. I’ve seen you change your approach when something isn’t working, constantly adjusting, constantly learning.” He paused, holding her gaze. “I’ve seen the quickness of your mind, the determination in your eyes. You. Are. Not. Weak. Anthea.”

“How can you say that, when I can’t even get up this fucking mountain without falling to my face?”

“We have done this for hundreds of years. But you . . . you haven’t. It’s as simple as that. It’s my duty to make sure you make it there. I need to make sure you’ll be as safe as you possibly can be,” he added, the sincerity in his voice making her heart clench.

“What if it’s all for nothing? What if I go inside there to just die anyway?” Suddenly she couldn’t stop. All her insecurities, all her doubts were laid bare for the elf in front of her.

“You are not going to die there!”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you are far too stubborn.” He brushed the wet locks from her face with his fingers, stepping closer, leaning down. Anthea felt his warm breath on her face. Her eyes flickered to his lips. And for a moment, she wondered what they would feel like against hers. She already knew how it felt to have his lips against her wrist, against her neck?—

“We should go,” he whispered.

Anthea nodded. They really should.

They didn’t.

“I’m scared.” She stepped into him, wanting to feel his warmth.

“I know. I’m scared too.” Eldrion wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight, holding her against his chest for a long moment before he let her go.

They didn’t talk as they finally followed the others.

45

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Beldor’s familiar voice greeted her.