Page 30

CHAPTER 30

The camp was active with soldiers tending to evening chores, and every single one eyed Elva with derision as she passed.

‘Want to tell me where the hell you’ve been and why you’re half-naked?

’

She looked at Avi and a flood of emotions barrelled through her.

His eyes were pinched with concern as they travelled over her, and not for the first time she wondered how shitty she must look to garner such sympathy.

He limped towards her, and she noticed with relief he wasn’t using crutches – at least his leg was on the mend.

‘Fought the priests. Nearly died. Then nearly died again in a river. Hence this,’ she said, gesturing at her appearance.

‘I’m sorry – what?

’ Avi exclaimed, his eyebrows raising so high they disappeared into the sweep of his mussed hair.

She poked her head into a nearby tent, a man’s curse sending her retreating just as quickly.

‘I’m your guard, and you disappeared for an entire day.

Do you know how worried I’ve been, Elva?

You’re lucky Advisor Gudren isn’t here yet or he’d have us both whipped.

’

Warmth bloomed in her chest at his concern, but she stopped herself from hugging him as two soldiers passed, giving them a wide berth.

‘I’m really sorry Avi, I didn’t mean to make you worry.

I promise I’ll explain, but first can you help me find my tent so I can get dressed?

’

He tipped his head back in silent prayer, but a second later he nodded and began limping down the rows of tents, his uneven gait fast compared to her exhausted waddle.

In the previous camps her tent had always been located opposite Fyn’s; the concentric circles of the layout making it easy for her to be watched at all times, but she couldn’t find her belongings anywhere.

They continued searching.

And searching.

Her trunk was nowhere to be found and she was getting more irate with every passing second.

The novelty of the hot springs and adrenalin of the fight was long gone.

Was this some bullshit prank Winsten had concocted?

She wasn’t in the mood, and the longer they looked the filthier she felt.

‘You might not want to hear this, but Oriann’s tent is just over there, and she might have spare clothes until we can figure out where your stuff is,’ Avi said after they’d searched another row and failed to find anything.

By this point she was shivering so badly she wondered if it would just be better to ride back to the hot springs, but agreed when Avi opened the tent and she saw a pile of clean clothes, ones that Oriann had been using to train in, sitting on the bedroll.

Her fingers were stiff as she undid the buttons Fyn had so carefully closed, but even that memory was sluggish.

How could she be this cold twice in one day?

When she finally managed to tug on the items and pull on clean, dry socks, she was feeling a little less bitter about the whole situation.

Her boots were still wet, so she stuffed her feet into a pair of Oriann’s silk slippers.

They were flimsy and too big but they were dry and that was enough.

She grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, still too cold to forgo extra warmth, and emerged from the tent to find Avi standing guard.

She laughed at his expression, tense and drawn, and her amusement grew when he scowled at her.

‘I want food and a firepit,’ she said to him, and without talking he turned and led her to a campfire two tents down.

She didn’t complain when he sat her down next to the fire, despite the mass exodus of soldiers upon her approach.

The warmth of the flames was delicious and she stretched her fingers out in front of her, letting the heat seep into her frozen extremities.

Avi came back with a bowl of stew, and without prompting she dug into the broth, inhaling it in a series of gulps.

She was so hungry she didn’t even notice the bland taste.

He took the empty bowl from her to refill without asking, and when he was sitting next to her again, second bowl in hand, she filled him in on the day.

When she was done he let out a low whistle.

‘I don’t know what I want to hear more about, the blood-cursed priests or the fact that you and Prince Fynton are finally getting along.

’

‘Honestly? Me neither,’ she said, scooping the last chunk of meat from her bowl.

She sighed and stretched her legs towards the flames, feeling markedly better now that she was fed.

‘In Fynton’s defence, you’re hard not to like,’ he said, bumping his shoulder gently against hers.

‘I was worried when I couldn’t find you.

’

She bumped his shoulder back, letting her weight remain when she realised how warm he was.

‘It’s going to take more than that to get rid of me.

’

Avi let out a low hum, but said nothing more.

Twilight was creeping, and the sparks of the campfire were vibrant in the darkening light.

Her eyelids drooped, the white noise of voices soothing as she soaked in the warmth of the fire, the warmth of Avi.

‘Elva, you okay?’

She sat upright, blinking as she reoriented herself.

‘Sorry, I fell asleep.’ She glanced around the firepit; a couple of people had joined the circle, and she realised the person on Avi’s other side was Oriann.

She wiped her face, embarrassed to feel drool on her chin, and smiled sheepishly.

‘It’s been a long day.

’

Oriann grinned.

‘Don’t worry about it.

’

‘Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.

’

‘I’m here to help you, Elva, with whatever you might need,’ Oriann said.

Elva glanced between her and Avi.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, and Elva got the sense Oriann meant something more, but couldn’t figure out what.

‘Let’s get you to bed,’ Avi said, wincing as he bent his injured knee.

She straightened and shook her head.

‘Oriann’s tent is just there,’ she said, pointing down the row.

‘I can sleep there, if you don’t mind, Oriann?

’ She felt guilty for co-opting her tent, but she didn’t much feel like explaining to Fyn why she’d shared with Avi again.

Oriann smiled, her eyes flicking to Avi before she faced Elva again.

‘It’s all yours.

’

‘I’ll walk you over,’ Avi said.

‘It’s just there, Avi.

There’s no need to strain your leg.

’

Avi hesitated, but when she poked his knee and he hissed, she stood up and stepped away without him.

‘Stay and enjoy your evening. I’m going to pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow.

Thank you, Oriann.

I owe you one.

’ She leaned down, driven by an urge she couldn’t articulate and gave Avi a light hug.

‘And thank you, Avi.’

He looked at her, laughter and concern warring on his face.

‘I’m watching the tent from here,’ his voice faded into the hubbub of conversation as she left the firepit.

Her thoughts were sluggish as she moved.

When she was standing outside the tent, she turned and waved to Avi, who was staring at her with an intensity that made her chuckle.

He grinned, attention only breaking when Oriann laughed and Avi turned towards her, his focus lost in the chaos of the firepit and the woman at his side.

A hand clamped over her mouth.

The world went sideways, and she was dragged down the side of the tent.

She yelled, her voice muffled by the man’s meaty palm and she dropped into a fighting stance – or she would have, if Oriann’s slippers had any grip.

Instead, her foot slipped and she stumbled, the brief wobble in her balance giving her assailant enough time to push her against a wagon.

Her sense memory kicked in and she brought her knee up, smashing it into the person’s stomach, making the man double over with a grunt.

She reared back, using the wagon as purchase to land another hit when the sharp blade of a knife pressed against her throat.

‘I’ve been waiting for this moment,’ her attacker said, his breath too hot next to her ear.

She tried to squirm away but the tip of the knife pressed in further and a small trickle of blood ran down her neck.

She tunnelled into her calm and focused.

The voice was familiar, whispered, but familiar.

She turned her head slightly so she could get a better view of the man, dread spreading through her when she recognised the mop of wilting hair: Winsten.

‘What the fuck do you want?’ she demanded, her voice steady.

She had a feeling she knew what he wanted, and when he pressed his mouth to her ear, the moist air sending shivers of revulsion down her spine, her suspicions were confirmed.

Anger thrummed in her, but she forced herself to stay still, letting the rage coil, until the path forwards was clear in her mind’s eye.

She could yell for Avi, but she didn’t want him to get in trouble for leaving her in the first place.

Or she could do what she’d been dreaming of since the ship.

‘Females need to know their place,’ he said, the words muffled against her neck as he unbuckled his belt.

With his attention split, she seized her opportunity, channelling weeks’ worth of pent-up anger in her punch.

She jabbed him in the kidney, and when the pressure of the knife lessened, she threw all her weight into her movement.

Rearing back, she slammed her forehead directly into his face.

There was a crunch and a shout as he staggered backwards, hands grasping at his face while he called her a cunt between mouthfuls of blood.

She lunged to the side to grab the forgotten knife and picked it up, making sure her movements were steady to compensate for the slippers.

Winsten took a step towards her but she backed up, leaving a body’s distance between them.

He cursed again and spat, and when he turned to glower at her, his lips pulled back in a growl that showed two missing teeth.

She was going to have the mother of all headaches when this was over, she could already feel a throb deepening behind her eyes from where she hit him.

‘You’re a pathetic waste of a man,’ she spat.

He growled and lunged for her, all control gone.

Her knowing pulsed and she could see the fight play out before it happened: as soon as he was within range she’d subdue the bastard in a heartbeat.

She shifted her weight and was ready to counter when a black shadow careened from behind the wagon and tackled Winsten to the ground.

He slammed into the earth, the stranger deftly moving so he was straddling him.

The figure raised a fist and crunched it into Winsten’s nose.

He raised his fist and hit again.

An ethical person would run over and pull the stranger off, but she didn’t.

If the figure hadn’t appeared when they had, Elva would have driven the knife into his stomach and let Winsten bleed out, slow and painful.

A shout came from the rows of tents, breaking the stranger’s focus, and another shadow ran around the corner, diving for the two figures on the ground.

She thought the man was cursing in fright, but when he moved into the light she saw it was Lonn, telling Fyn he was an idiot.

Fyn shook off Lonn’s worry and stood, blood dripping from his knuckles and onto Winsten’s figure below.

‘Are you okay?’ Fyn asked, voice hoarse as he turned to scan her, looking for wounds.

‘I’m okay,’ she said, taking a step towards him.

His eyes narrowed and she lifted a hand, finding a trail of smeared blood on her neck.

‘He did this to you?’ Fyn asked.

She nodded.

His eyes shone with silver vengeance as he stood over Winsten, the man’s whimpers garbled and incoherent.

Kneeling, Fyn withdrew a knife, and sliced it across Winsten’s throat.

Elva braced her hands on her knees as the reality of the situation came crashing down around her.

She took a breath to steady herself, the world tilting.

The pain behind her eyes was growing as her battle calm seeped out.

She lifted a shaky hand to her face, hissing when she prodded her tender forehead.

‘Come with me,’ Fyn said softly.

She jolted at his proximity, cursing herself for losing track of her surroundings.

He gently took her elbow and steered her through the camp.

Laughter came from the fires and she wondered how much time had passed since she’d left Avi.

Too much time.

Not enough time?

She didn’t want him to worry, but when she opened her mouth to try and say something, no sound came out.

Fyn guided her through the circles of tents until they were at the command pavilion.

Except he continued walking, leading her to the other side where a small tent sat in its shadow.

He opened the flap and beckoned her inside.

While the tent was standard size, the bedding was not.

Lush furs in rich colours lay atop a thick bedroll, which took up the entire space.

She stopped, questions rising to her lips but he ignored her expression and pushed her gently inside.

She rolled her eyes, but pain blossomed at the movement, and she kicked off the slippers to crawl onto the bedroll.

Fyn unlaced his boots and padded to a small trunk in the corner, rifling through its contents until he brought out a small box.

She watched him cautiously, unsure what he was doing.

He opened the lid and pulled out a small tub of salve, ducking to sit next to her.

His callused hands were gentle as he brought a small cloth to her neck, wiping the blood away before coating the wound with salve, jawline tensing as he moved to her forehead and smoothed it gently across the place she’d slammed into Winsten.

She didn’t know what to say.

Clearly Fyn didn’t know what to say either, because they sat in silence, looking at each other for minutes, until he sighed and rubbed his face.

‘I don’t know where to begin,’ he said.

She smiled, or tried to, but she was so tired she wasn’t sure her muscles were listening.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

She nodded but he cocked his head to one side, eyebrows raised.

She took a breath and exhaled loudly, unable to help the tremor in her voice.

‘I’m okay.

I’m shaky; I didn’t expect to have to deal with that, but I am okay.

My head’s throbbing, and I feel cold for some reason, but I’m okay.

’ She realised she’d been saying she was okay a lot, which was a clear sign that she was not, in fact, okay.

If it had been her warriors, she would tell them shock was a perfectly logical response and there was nothing to be ashamed of.

She wished she could take her own advice.

She looked at Fyn, trying to focus on him so she wouldn’t burst into tears.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, pointing to his hand, unable to stand the silence.

He nodded and stretched his fingers.

‘Yeah. They hurt but I’ll be fine.

’ He reached into the box again, and she watched him wrap his hand.

She wanted to help, but her limbs were leaden.

When he was done he placed the box down and looked at her.

This was weird.

She huffed and threw back the covers, crawling properly into the bed so she could at least be warm while being uncomfortable.

‘Is this your tent?’ she asked, though the answer was obvious.

‘Yes,’ he said, leaning over to tuck one of the thickest blankets around her.

‘Do you know where my tent is? I can’t find it.

’ Her voice was soft as the warmth of the blankets cocooned her.

She hummed in contentment, running her fingers through the soft fur.

Fyn continued piling them on, and only when he was satisfied she was tucked in did he meet her gaze.

‘I moved your things to be closer to me the other night. I heard what Winsten said at the river, and I...’ he said, an anguished look on his face.

‘Bold move,’ she said, and his eyes narrowed in warning.

She snickered, unsure why she found this funny because it definitely wasn’t.

‘You could have saved me looking like a clown trying to find my tent though.’

When he didn’t say anything she dropped the smile and met his gaze.

‘You didn’t do this, Fyn.

’

He nodded, but the glimmer in his eyes said otherwise, and she knew whatever he was feeling was fuelled by the roar of Ever inside him.

She untangled an arm from the bedding and reached for his hand.

He pulled away, clearing his throat.

‘I know you’re entirely capable of taking care of yourself, but you’re sleeping here tonight.

I’m going to have soldiers posted outside.

Shout if you need anything,’ he said, rising from the bedroll.

‘Where will you sleep?’ she asked.

Her eyes were heavy and her brain was hazy.

All she wanted to do was fall unconscious.

‘There’s bedding in the command pavilion.

’

She was so tired.

So, so tired, but something didn’t feel right.

He turned to tuck in the blanket one last time, and she grabbed his hand.

His skin was hot and as soon as they touched a tiny, tired tug pulled from behind her ribs.

‘Stay.’

Fyn stilled, and her mind caught up to her mouth.

She met his gaze, and a sense of hindsight washed through her.

‘Stay with me,’ she said again, unable to explain why she was asking him, but knowing it felt right.

With a huge amount of effort, she wrestled her other hand free and threw the covers back, offering space on the bedroll for Fyn to lie down.

She rolled over, snuggling back into the pillow, aware of his controlled breathing, his cautious movements as he slipped under the covers beside her.

She couldn’t explain why, but as soon as she felt the warmth of his body against her own, her trembling subsided

And when he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, she tumbled into sleep.