Page 98 of Balance

And there was no way I would let Miles go back out alone. Not tonight.

“I’m s-sorry for all of this…” I shivered from the cold and my shame and pulled my clothes closer to myself. While we might have found some kind of shelter, the fact remained that we were still wearing damp clothes and lacked adequate protection from the elements.

Living with others—even my adoptive parents—had spoiled me for this life. Did I even remember how to survive in the wild? Did Miles?

Well, probably. He seemed to have been doing an okay job before we’d shown up and ruined his little adventure…

Miles’s attention snapped back to me, his thick lips turning down into a deep frown as his gaze wandered over my face.

“You’re cold,” he remarked, ignoring my apology.

“It’s o-o-okay.” I meant it.

“No, it’s not.” He glanced at the blanket, which he had finally finished unraveling, and back to me. Something hardened in his eyes as his emotions turned to stone. “Strip.”

My throat closed, and I blinked at him. Surely I had misheard.

“Excuse me?” My grip tightened, and my fingernails dug into my upper arms.

This wasn’t the first time one of boys demanded I remove my clothing. Damen’s excitement over seeing the mark on my breast came to mind. The randomness of Miles’s order was still surprising. Logically, even without his explanation, I knewwhyhe was saying this now.

I wasn’t stupid.

Still, I never expected him to be so blunt about it. The man wasn’t even blushing!

As if my thoughts had summoned his modesty, his face turned red.

“I-I mean,” he stammered, averting his eyes from mine and clutching the blanket against his chest. “I just don’t want you to get sick. I won’t look at you. You can trust me, I would never—”

“Stop.” My breath caught. I touched his cheek, not missing his slight flinch.

Why did everyone have to harp on this? This kind of reaction was exactly what I had been trying to avoid. “I amnotquestioning your honor. I know the kind of person you are, and I amnotafraid of you.”

“Myhonor? You make me sound so noble…” he muttered.

Of course. “Even though you’renota monk, I still—”

“Now just hold on,” Miles interrupted, suddenly grabbing my hands. “You’re misunderstanding something very important. While itistrue that Ihavebeen a monk, that term doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

A monk was a monk. What else could it mean?

“What are you talking about?” So hewasa monk?

Miles sat back on his heels, pinching the bridge of his nose as his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation while we’re sitting here wet—”

“Tell me,” I commanded. I was on to something here. I couldn’t give him the opportunity to back out of this.

His eyes opened and he shot me a strange look, but finally answered, resignation lacing his voice. “Yes. I’ve been a monk in a past life. I’ve also been a priest, a rabbi, and other highly ranked officials from various religious groups.”

Impossible. That was sacrilegious.

“But you’re a witch.”

“Again, that termalsodoesn’t mean what you think it means,” Miles said evenly, shrugging his shoulders as he plopped himself down to a seat. “Witchcraft is a practice, not a religion. You can believe in no deities, or any deity, and still practice. Outside of that, witchcraft is commonly mislabeled in ignorance. In the past, anyone different was called a witch.”

“…So what is it?” I wanted to understand.

“To practice the craft, you have to be willing to learn about yourself and respect the earth. Plus, witches have many different specialties. Some witches only work with herbs, while some work with crystals. Some don’t even do spell work at all.”